#what a dumb title

[beginnerblueglass]

“The Empire Strikes Back” is such a dumb name tho.

[satoruhour]

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops—

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:

you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai &lt;3 ok gn

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Gabriel trying to entertain an iPad baby as his confidence rapidly declines - A Compilation

Not going to transcribe these as its just songs being "sung" if you can call it that.

Anyway.

Chug Jug With You Audio Source

Happy Birthday Audio Source

Under the Sea Audio Source

Chug Jug (again) Audio Source

[heartburiedingreece]

[myokk]

Imelda x Poppy🥹💓

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

how have i written 11,000 words of AU adar angst/smut??? how on EARTH did this happen????

i... want to be free of this.

ANYWAY, for those who wish to partake, here is what's published thus far. i sense a move to Ao3 coming, peeps. this thing has plot now and supporting characters.

*heavy sigh*

[toasteaa]

toast!!!!! Idk if you saw this Neuvi outfit mod yet but it seemed very much what you might like :3

https://x.com/dailyhyvgrandpa/status/1829436458228138485?s=46&t=HqOx7uNx6Lp0NeJzstmOFw

I have been sent this video at least ten times and each time I see it I go stupid for a little while. A long while.

And as I'm typing this, I'm realizing that the text on the video said that this is his wedding suit and I have to go sit down again because the thought that just barreled itself into my brain is LOUD.

I forgot what I was going to say omfg. Something about being partial to his canon outfit (his spats, cummerbund, and jabot are gone :( he's naked...) but I do enjoy the translucence and subtle glow of his shawl and the romaritime flower boutonniere! He really is so very lovely...

[phin-tastic]

i cannot describe the rage i feel when i click on a fight club deep dive youtube essay, and it’s just… some dude, talking about how this film is the purest portrayal of masculinity and how “men love it because it’s so relatable”.

i mean, i love it because it’s relatable. but not in the way those sigma film bros do.

i love it because i’m gay, hate capitalism and would like to recreationally get beat up.

[eerna]

hello! this ask ended up becoming a very long tangent so feel free to ignore it lmao. just had some thoughts on tpt and idk who else to rant to

i feel like i generally enjoyed tpt but also agree w a lot of criticism ive seen about it (was definitely put off by wrens lack of agency and so disappointed that we didnt see her reunite w her parents…that phone call w her mom was the most emotionally evocative scene for me in the first book and lowkey made me cry).

idk if someone already brought this up but a small thing that bothered me was that the thistlewitch’s bargain with oak never came back to bite him or was even mentioned again. specifically the exchange where she asked him to grant her a request upon becoming king, and he agreed since he didnt plan to be king anyway even though she implied she’d seen otherwise in his future. i get that this is foreshadowing ultimately that oak would become a king through marrying wren rather than inheriting, but it surprised me that the ramifications of him thus having to put his money where his mouth is re:thistlewitch never actually come up when he has the whole ‘oh i’d still be a king by marriage’ realization in tpt.

like it seems like it should be plot relevant that oak is now indebted to a hag who is somewhat implied to be conspiring (or at least affiliated) with mother marrow / bogdana, given that he specifically questions why mother marrow sent him off to the thistlewitch to get info, when she already could have told him that wren had melliths heart. idk was that part ever explained? i listened to the audiobook so if it was i might have zoned out or something, but i lowkey kept expecting that piece to be revealed as part of the hag conspirators’ plan

i guess that its just a red herring having finished the book now, but i was still confused that oak never even reflects back on it in his inner monologue at some point, especially when he realizes that he is still on track to becoming a king when he marries wren? like the book just ends with him being like ‘i guess ill be a king :) for you :)’ so i suppose hes either forgotten about the thistlewitch or doesnt care

maybe i read far too much into this one interaction or just missed something. but idk it just seems like a missed opportunity and/or dropped plot line to me and i really feel like that red string corkboard charlie day meme just thinking about it.

thank u for reading if you got through it all :,)

No worries, I enjoy reading ppl's takes in my inbox, be it positive or negative~ SAME the Thistlewitch was the BACKBONE to all my TPT predictions and then she ended up irrelevant. Then when the entire consort VS king/queen topic popped up I was like OH SMART, this could be a good middle ground. But no. Despite all his best attempts at avoiding it, he is still getting a crown, hence the hags can still collect that boon one day. And what if the boon is "Reignite the Court of Teeth's insurgence and march against Elfhame and put your hag bride on the throne". What then.

[illhaveyouforbreakfast]

Morgana confronts Arthur's army, saying they have no hope of defeating her.

"I am a high priestess of the old religion!" She snarls, casting a spell that sends a wave of destruction at the knights. It's stopped in its tracks against a shimmering wall of energy. Merlin steps forward, eyes glowing gold, hands raised.

"And I am your god."

[mazzystar24]

They should play lover you should’ve come over by Jeff Buckley when Eddie is fixing shit with buck after their divorce era or when they’re at their peek angst as a personal treat for me 🥰❤️🫶🤭🤭

[mummer]

we are so fucking back

[leeeeeeef]

everything is fine

courtesy of my awesome gay brush i made over a year ago

[theloveinc]

my roommate is dating the son of one of the richest families in my city and is crying bc me and my other roommate told her to get a prenup and figure out who is paying the mortgage on the house she's trying to move into with him

[knifeeater]

Hello i'm illiterate. What does the iwtv dante inferno i need protection from the wolves post mean. I'm dumb i'm so sorry and i. Desperately need to know

hey, please don't apologize! i was worried this would be kind of unclear because i skipped over a connection in the tags: i have a pet theory of louis walking daniel through the nine circles of hell and showing him his sins along the wayside, similar to the structure of dante's inferno, louis being the ghostly guide virgil aswell as the topological space himself (sometimes i factor in armand as virgil but let's keep it simple for this purpose). there is a reference to the forest of suicides in s1, so louis as an autobiographical narrator is certainly aware of dante and we know how he loves to weave in literary devices.

this is about guilt as foreshadowing, primarily concerning louis' culpability in claudia's death. in the first two images we see louis breaking a birds wings, hoping claudia will eat them, and shortly after lestat makes a hidden reference to armand cutting off his fledling and first love nicki's hands. in the same episode lestat calls claudia a baby bird. if we read iwtv as louis consciously including those references into his narration, we can interpret this as a connection to him prompting claudia's turning, the pain she expresses of never being able to grow up and experience 'flying from the nest' as it were but being kept in a perpetual subjugated daughter state. i believe louis' feelings of guilt express themselves here in a parallel of having a hand in her wings being clipped to having, through his passivity and active alienation towards claudia in paris, a second-hand in her eventual death.

so at the deepest center of dante's hell is a frozen lake, colcytus, which is reserved for the worst sinners, the traitors: caina for traitors of kin, antenora for traitors of city and state, ptolemea for betraying hospitality and judeca after judas iscariot for betraying your lord (lol yes ik this is a medieval text). At last in the frozen bottom of hell is the devil, 'dis', lucifer who betrayed god himself.

the quote from inferno is from the ptolemea section, in which a man forever gnawing anothers head laments him and his children being incarcerated in a tower where they starved, something he references as being hunted like wolves ('i was being hunted'). he now forever rips apart his cruel jailor with 'long fangs'. colcytus overlaps in my mind pretty well with the deepest layers of louis' very christian/catholic shame - the 'murder' of his brother and 'sister' claudia, the betrayal of his community, falling in love with a bad man who's a danger to his child (x2), betraying lestat with a judas kiss and at the end lucifer himself, the fallen angel - am i the devil, am i of the devil. in colcytus a lot of references to blindness and being veiled to the meaning of your own story appear which is very interesting to narrative agency and louis' self-justification too.

then ethel cain references dante in ptolemea - claudia is the daughter of cain, the man who pressed the same blade to his brothers sternum he would later kill his lover with, the one he's never quite sure didn't have a hand in paul's death. before her 'conception' louis makes a deal with the devil. lestat the aristocrat, the wolf hunter, louis accepts his love and his motives. him taking on the page of hearts from this trickster is a moral choice concerned, as every deal with the devil is, not just with love but also power, money and influence. it is a choice which leads to claudias birth into death, her parents union born out of the dark gift, birthing a child into sin, violence and pain. what's interesting in cains text is the interchangeability of the wolf and the hunter which is one of my favorite themes in literature, one i noted in tvl aswell - lestat's stylized (himself) as a werewolf figure, an outsider, hunted, wild and uncontainable. rice was influenced surely by angela carter's writing about this kind of otherness and masochistic attraction to violence which reveals an animality in yourself - louis' favorite movie isn't 'company of wolves' for nothing. to close out this meandering connection i thought it was interesting that this lyric ends with sublime, quick burning white light - the luminous fall of lucifer morningstar is certainly a theme in louis first season story arc.

thank you for coming back on this and giving me a chance to unhinge my jaw about it, always happy to talk. 🖤

[coldshrugs]

triple play

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau setting: modern au word count: 2.2k [divider credit]

February 7th - Estinien

The first baseball game of the season is fast approaching, and the Knights buzz with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

The locker room is louder than usual, but Estinien doesn't mind. He likes this part. It's the same every year: the giddy tension, the unconditional camaraderie before the finger-pointing starts, the desire to do well and, maybe, catch an eye or two in the process...

Only a week away now.

What he doesn't like is the feeling of Aymeric's glare boring into the back of his head.

"What?" he asks, trying his best to sound even, unbothered, as he puts away his gear.

Aymeric makes an evasive little sound. "Just thinking. Musing, if you will."

He punctuates this with the sharp sound of his locker closing.

Estinien sighs. This is bait. Somehow, this is bait, and he will take it and most likely regret it. He shuts his own locker with a metallic clang and drops to the bench between them.

"Fine. What's on your mind?"

Aymeric tosses a towel around his shoulders, beaming triumphantly and pausing for what Estinien can only guess is dramatic effect. "Did you ask her?"

If Aymeric's stare needled his skin, that is nothing compared to the itch caused by the sideways glances thrown at him now.

This is the same year after year, too—the whispered locker room gossip, all of them eager for some minor detail about so-and-so's tits or who the hookup of the month is. He's never been one to share that much; besides, there's nothing to tell.

Still… another kind of anticipation swells in his chest, similar to the usual pre-game nervousness, but one he doesn't share with the others. He wishes the 'her' in Ayms' question wasn't so readily implied. Anyone else would've needed a name, but after knowing her only a few months, Io is an assumption.

Most of the others are minding their business again, so he answers:

"Yeah." He keeps his voice low. "I asked her. She's coming." Then he adds, "She's bringing someone."

Aymeric leans against the row of lockers. "And? You brought me to her concert. Don't worry too much about it."

But he's not worried. There's nothing to worry about, is there? It's pretty cut and dry. "I keep telling you... me and Io, we're friends. That's all she wa—"

"Io?"

The voice comes from a few people away. Maybe he wasn't as quiet as he thought.

Haurchefant leans past a set of shoulders before pushing over to them. "You know Io? Laithe?"

"Might just be a common name," Ayms shrugs, but anyone can see he's already enjoying whatever this is.

Estinien shoots him a dark look—great, thanks, this is exactly a conversation I wanted to have—then nods to Haurchefant.

"Not super well or anything."

"Oh, come on." Aymeric laughs. "Hasn't known her long, but definitely knows her well."

Estinien wipes a hand over his face. "Don't say it like that. She's a friend from—" Hm, he doesn't want to put her life story out there to some guy on his baseball team. "—we're in a club, I guess, outside of school."

"Oh," Haurche glances between Estinien and Aymeric, and his tension fades when the latter doesn't react. "Sweet. We, uh, dated for a few months a while back, but I haven't heard from her in over a year. After the—" his voice breaks, and Estinien figures he doesn't want to drag her painful history up either. "Well, anyway... How is she?"

For the briefest moment, their eyes lock, and they have something else in common. Something outside of this team. The warmth he felt at the thought of sharing something more about himself with her, that almost pleasant anxiety, it starts to blister, flashing white-hot across his neck and climbing to his face.

His eyes narrow. He doesn't want to say anything.

Io trusts easily, even when she's hurting (especially when she's hurting). If she wanted Haurchefant to know how she was doing, she'd have talked to him by now. There must be a reason she hasn't.

His chest tingles again, fluttering with something tiny and warm—he is the person she talks to, confides in. Sure, they both have Haven, but outside of that... Well, maybe Aymeric isn't wrong for assuming.

Estinien stands from the bench and peels off his soiled shirt. Before he heads to the showers, he gives Haurchefant the only answer he thinks is warranted. "Doing better."

February 10th - Haurchefant

He met Io at a Spring Break party in freshman year, where he spent far too much of the night watching her quietly hold up the corners of some upperclassman's rented condo. He felt like he knew everything there was to know about her right away, a symptom of that bright melancholy distinctly found in art school girls, like she was only waiting on fate to catch up to her. Maybe the reality of her was less interesting than his half-baked conclusion, but god, her smile.

He was so nervous to talk to her.

They hit it off, in a careful way. Started dating, started kissing, fooled around a bit. But it was so... polite. Almost obligatory. Maybe they wouldn't have lasted anyway, but then, whether she wanted it or not, fate caught up to her. Her whole family was lost in the crash, and she ghosted him.

A slow fade.

Haurchefant has never had trouble with moving on. He finds the bright side and forgets the rest. No, this is unlike him, still thinking about something long in the past, even with such a hazy ending.

But Varlineau?

Seriously?

Haurchefant always found him tactless and a bit fumbling. And he had no right to pull his smug avoidance thing right after downplaying whatever point Aymeric was trying to make. A "club?"

Estinien Varlineau is not in a fucking club, extracurricular or not.

Whatever.

Haurchefant pulls out his phone and stares at the long-dead conversation thread between him and Io. He was the last to text, of course. Some cliche "I realize this is over, but I wish you the best" thing. He meant it. He still means it.

And that's why his unsure fingers dart across the keyboard now, typing and deleting the words until he has something fairly neutral.

He's surprised when she replies almost immediately.

HG: hey io. haven't heard from u in literally a year. i've been worried. u okay? IL: haurche, wow. it's actually really good to hear from you. IL: i'm not exactly okay, but i'm trying. getting help. HG: glad to hear it. i'm so sorry for ur loss. i don't think i can say it enough. IL: i think i've heard it enough for a lifetime, but thank you ♥ IL: and i'm really sorry for the way things went down. that was unfair. i think i knew that at the time, even in the depths of the pit. we were only together for a few months. it felt like putting too much on your plate HG: so u took away the plate. IL: so i took away the plate. like i said, unfair to you IL: i understand if there are hard feelings, but it means a lot that you're checking in. HG: no hard feelings, no grudges. i wish u would've let me be there for u, but i guess we won't know just how much my plate can handle. HG: unless... u want to grab coffee sometime? IL: lol, i'm deeply flattered you still consider me a viable dating option after witnessing me in a nearly catatonic state. IL: but i think i might be seeing someone? maybe? hard to say tbh. i've got valentine's plans tho, so we'll see. HG: yeah? we've got the same plans. i play baseball too, remember? HG: listen... just don't make too many assumptions with him. given the context, this sounds shitty, but he doesn't seem super into it IL: okay... thanks for your insight. and for the perspective on who you're actually worried about here. later.

His leg shakes hard enough to quake his bed. Fuck. That wasn't how he wanted this to go.

February 14th - Estinien

From his place in the outfield, Estinien can't make out the faces in the stands. It's something he always tries to avoid anyway. Easier to imagine the crowd as one rippling, noisy entity instead of hundreds of people there to watch them perform. Even better if he pretends they're not there at all.

But today he can't keep his eyes from darting around the stadium in his downtime, hoping to catch a flash of deep blue. It's a distracting task, one that oppresses the next crack of the bat and when he sees the ball going long it's almost too late.

Oh, shit.

Shit, fuck, shit.

He tears after it. Faster. Faster than that, until he's feet away from the wall.

One more look up. He dives with an outstretched glove…

He crashes into the padded wall and doesn’t give himself time to react to the sharp little aches burning through his muscles. The weight in his gloved hand is all he considers—it’s an out. He slings the ball to Haurchefant at third and they take a second.

Now there’s time to feel it. His lungs are on fire. There’s a dull throb in his shoulder that will show as a bruise tomorrow. This game is the same as any other, he reminds himself while he catches his breath, hands on his hips. Doesn’t matter who’s watching.

The next batter is their third out and they’re off to a decent start. They run in, and there she is, grinning brightly as she waves to him.

Io sits next to Thancred, hands cupped around his mouth so his cheers carry farther, and something like relief swells in Estinien’s chest (not that he has any reason to be relieved). Estinien’s met him once, decent guy. One of her close friends.

He smiles back, throws his hand up as he heads into the dugout.

The rest of the game feels too long, but his focus returns. They win by two runs and it feels good to start the season on a high.

Afterwards, Io waits on the other side of the chainlink fence. She’s wearing a red flannel over a black dress and boots up to her knees, her hair falls messily out of its bun. He walks to meet her, lungs burning like he’s running again.

“Hey,” she says with a smile, elbows against the fence as she leans into it. “You were awesome out there.”

Estinien shakes his head. “We did alright.”

“You don’t like compliments.” Not a question. Io pauses, eyes darting around the stadium for a moment before falling back to him. A strand of windblown hair catches between her lips (he doesn’t look at her lips), and she pulls it away. “Thanks for inviting me. This was fun.”

“Yeah, I liked seeing you here. Thanks for coming.” He shifts his weight, leans against the fence next to her. “Where’s Thancred?”

“No idea. Probably saw someone cute with no Valentine’s date and decided to shoot his shot.”

Oh, god. Today is…

Estinien reigns in his expression before glancing over to Io. She doesn’t seem any different than the other times they’ve hung out. Her smile is as soft and warm as ever. As usual, her presence is comfortingly familiar, and just looking at her causes the sudden spike in his anxiety to ebb away.

Then her eyes flit down. 

He doesn’t think about why.

He can’t assume anything. That’s not fair.

He opens his mouth to ask if she wants to get out of here, grab some food, let him show her around his campus—anything—but someone walks by. Too close. Close enough to be on purpose.

“Varlineau,” Haurchefant grunts as he passes, and Estinien ignores a flare of annoyance in favor of a nod. Then Haurchefant's gaze slides to Io and darkens. “Io.”

“Hi Haurche,” she sighs, watching him go. The mood shifts, like all the warmth has been sucked out of the air around them, but he can't figure out why. If personal interactions were as easy to call as baseball, he’d guess she just lost this one.

When Haurchefant is gone, she stands from the fence. “I think I need to get back across town. Just remembered I’ve got a quiz due by midnight.”

“Oh,” he whispers. “Yeah, sure. Don’t drop the GPA on my account. I’ll see you later this week?”

“For sure. And this weekend, too, if you want to catch that movie I told you about.”

“You said I’d hate it,” he laughs. 

Io shrugs, walking backwards. “And don’t you want to prove me wrong?”

He shakes his head again. “No, I know you’re right. But whatever, we can watch it.”

“Nice. I’ll text you.” She beams, and that tightens his chest too. “It’s… not a date, right?”

Estinien watches her go, and maybe the little rush he felt before Haurchefant passed by was a fluke. The adrenaline after his win tangling with the weird sense of contentment that comes from simply being around Io. Those things must conflict somehow.

“Right,” he says to himself, resting his head against the cold metal fence (and there’s no reason to be disappointed).