#get hugged nerd <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[c0nn0rb0t]

"Fiftee fowu, my speech mawduwule is mawfunctioning."

"Stay calm 52, its temporary...I've encountered this particular virus before"

He pulls 52 in for a hug

[cyclogenesis]

ryan reynolds photos i've been fixating on lately 35/∞

[mechazushi]

Watercolor Memories

"And where are we at on the budget for the Research and Development Department?" Jozu Nogizaka, the Chief of Staff for Ariaka base asked from his seat at the conference table.

All the higher ups for the First Division were settled in one of the larger meeting rooms for the bi-monthly debriefing where everyone with an important job title get together to make sure everyone is on the same page. Not only was the Chief of Staff and his fellow associates there, but the Head Director of the Defense Force, Isao Shinomya. His assistant as well as Narumi Gen were there as well, with all three of them in different states of mental presence. The Director was listening as intently as he could, seeing as he had the most to gain or lose from a lack of communication from inside his cabinet members. Ebira looked to be following along for the most part, but any light that would normally be in one's eyes had dissipated considerably early into this drool meeting. Narumi, openly picking his nose with his feet up on the table, had certainly lost any and all interest in this communal interaction a while ago.

Which made it a good thing that he had enforced his decision to bring Kafka Hibino to the meeting with him. Not being one for paperwork, much less anything not related to the active takedown of kaiju threats, he usually got dragged along to these meetings by his second in command, Eiji Hasegawa. Recently however, the base had acquired the biological enigma that was Kafka and once they had deemed him not an immediate threat, they had run out of ideas as for what to do with him. They still weren't comfortable with him traveling outside of base, but had decided that he could at least wander around a few select buildings on the grounds as long as he had supervision. Not one to miss out on exploitative labor, Narumi weaseled his way into letting Kafka act as essentially a personal secretary.

Kafka didn't give it any second thought once he heard the offer since it let him outside of his small, barren closet he had to call a room. It became clear that he should have since most of what Narumi made him do had him chained to a desk piled with paperwork or had him running endless fetch quests for food around base. Still, Kafka went about it without complaint. It was either this or working out his room all alone, losing his mind from worry and baseless fear. Hasegawa wasn't too thrilled about this new arrangement since it meant that the strongest division officer to date just got to laze around more often, but he couldn't deny how Kafka's presence streamlined the paper processing and left him open to pursue actual second-in-command duties. It even worked out better in meetings.

All Hasegawa had to do was drag Narumi with Kafka in tow and go off to finish more important tasks. Kafka turned out to be incredible at note and record taking, so all he did during meetings was make an abbreviated list of important facts that he could rattle off to Narumi when he actually had the capacity and care to acknowledge them. All Narumi had to do was show up and look like he was interested... which was turning out to be the hardest task of all. As the First Division captain continued to look at anything else besides those in the room, Kafka just slid glances in his direction and sighed heavily at the patheticness of it all. Everyone here had made several attempts to correct his behavior, all to no avail. If anything, they've been letting him get away with it more now that Kafka was here to cover his attention deficit ass.

But even Kafka had to admit he was with Narumi on this. These meetings were soul-sucking. It took everything he had in him to keep a running tab in his mind about everything that was being decided on. Even then he didn't have to think that much harder as to how to frame his notes in such a way to make it easier for Narumi to understand at a glance. This left him with plenty of free time in between important bulletins for his mind to wander, and in turn his fingers as well. Kafka didn't get a seat at the table during these meetings and was forced to stand behind Narumi the whole time as he cradled a small tablet to write on.

Holding it in one arm meant he had to type with one hand, which he got impressively good at as the days went on. But since the sentences he wrote were so short, it left him standing there inactive for long periods at a time. Something that would eventually garner judging sneers from the other board members. To avoid these leering glances and an ever present fear of reprimand, he had taken up doodling in the margins of his digital notes. The notes app he wrote in had surprisingly adequate artist's tools that he could pull up and use alongside his typed notes. He, of course, deleted everything before he handed the tablet over to Narumi to read later, but the habit at least made him look busy during the more dull sections of the meetings.

It wasn't his first rodeo in dealing with digital media, but it had been a hot minute since the last time he could only work with a lower standard of equipment. He grew up playing around with the School's built in paint programs, but had eventually gone on to dabble in more advanced programs built specifically for mobile. Really, it just started as a way to kill time at work until he could go home and get a hold of his sketchbooks. What started off as glittering fantasies of being the best warrior known to man being put to paper, shockingly warped itself into anatomical studies of the monsters he butchered apart for most of his life. Once a pastime turned teaching tool had now reverted back to a simpler time. One of daydreams and recovering of memories not yet lost. Kafka drew the faces of those he shared the room with as warm ups, but would quickly find himself trying to draw those he wished to see again more prevalently.

It was a dangerous mindset to find himself in. He had a nasty habit of getting too caught up in how Reno would hold his head or how Haruichi would hold a drink to remember to focus on the words being said around him. To be stuck in the past was never good, especially when keeping your job meant concentrating on the present. In a sick sense of bartering, his mind came up with the solution of instead bringing attention to his past relationship to his ex-vice captain, Soshiro Hoshina. It didn't feel like they were together long, but the memories of their connection burned the brightest even in the darkest recesses of Kafka's mind. Their circumstances had changed drastically from the shrouded image of domesticity that they had gathered for themselves ever since the reveal of what lay dormant in Kafka's chest.

Hoshina was mad about it, that was for sure. Kafka had become so wrapped up in the idea of being loved by the last person he ever thought he deserved it from that he actively shoved his biggest secret under the rug. All just to feel one more day of tender warmth from his lover. Recent events had forced everyone's hands and fresh wounds had to be quickly patched with no real healing touch behind them. Hoshina still came to base every two weeks to train Kafka in Squadron Style hand-to-hand, but neither one made any move to bring up how the reveal seemed to cut down the trust that had been built between them. With the looming threat of another coordinated attack looming over everyone, it had been silently decided that it would have to be put to the side for now.

Kafka was desperate to say he was sorry, in any way he could. That he knew he should have said something earlier, damn the fact that their budding attachment to each other was about as stable as a newborn deer's legs. You don't hide the fact that you have an alien entity buried in your chest just because you want to see how far you can get away with courting above your military station. It wasn't just to see if he could either; He never viewed their love as something so empty and vain. Kafka more than looked up to him. Hoshina was the pinnacle of everything he ever wanted to be growing up. And that same person was looking back at him and telling Kafka that he had a chance; that he believed in him no matter how small that chance was. He wanted to be anything and everything that Hoshina could ever want to see in a partner, in someone that could stand by his side as well as Mina's. Hoshina loving him back was just a bonus.

Kafka just had to hope there would be a moment where he could put it all into words.

"Narumi, if you keep bouncing your heel against the table, I will not hesitate to assign you to janitorial duty for a year." Director Shinomiya gruffly commanded from his seat at the head of the table.

"It's not my fault you geezers are talking about dull shit. Losing my mind over here." Narumi groaned as he moved the offending foot off of the table, the movement snapping Kafka out of his spiraling misery.

"This "Dull Shit" as you so put it is critical for the defense of the nation!" Jozu declared as a fist bounced firmly on the boardroom table.

As Narumi began to engage in a battle of differences with the Chief of Staff, Shinomiya stole a brief look at the wall clock, "Tell you what. If you can tell the group what the last subject we were discussing was, I'll dismiss this meeting early."

"Uhhh... okay. Yeah, sure, I can do that." Narumi drawled as he was caught unaware by the proposition.

"The last thing we were talking about was..." Narumi chewed on his lip as he tried his best to think back to what the conversation was about in the first place. He threw several pleading glances back as a distracted Kafka before leaning back in his chair.

"Psst! Help me out here!" He harshly whispered, his lips almost curling into a snarl from how long it was taking Kafka to answer him.

Kafka fingers flew frantically over the screen as he tried to find the last place he left off in his notes for the meeting. As soon as he found it, he leaned down to Narumi's ear to whisper the answer back.

"We were about to move away from talking about the budget for the R&D department!" Narumi claimed with as much confidence as he could muster.

As everyone in the room glared disapprovingly for a moment longer than comfortable, Narumi began to direct the collective brunt of the glare back towards Kafka, who was visibly sweating buckets. A loud and disappointed sigh soon broke the uncomfortable silence before a creaking of a chair was heard from the head of the table.

"Meeting Adjourned." The director ordered as he stood up, the toll of the meeting now seen more clearly in the lines of his usually impassive face.

While everyone there would have gone on record stating that these meetings were important and necessary to have, it wouldn't have taken a trained eye to see just how fast everyone was leaving the board room. Even the Director let out a low gasp of relief, his sinking shoulders betraying his stone visage in the smallest way possible. Not waiting for more people to leave the room, Narumi didn't hesitate to drag Kafka out by the collar and pulled him out into the connecting hallway. Hoping to corner Kafka somewhere a little more private, he dropped his hand and sauntered away knowing his subordinate would follow closely behind. Narumi had long since caught on to Kafka's tactic of playing around with the tablet to give the appearance of being busy, but hadn't cared about it before now. Having almost been humiliated by the potential distraction made him wonder what could Kafka be doing that garnered so much divided attention. Once they had made a more comfortable distance away from the board room did Narumi start his investigation.

"Mind handing me the notes since you're still here?" The captain requested, starting his attack early. The sudden question made Kafka shake himself out of his fog of thoughts and fumble around with the prematurely dismissed tablet.

"Yeah, sure, give me a second." He answered back as he woke the screen back up.

"A second?" Narumi pressed harshly, leaning in to the irritated energy he developed back in the meeting.

"I-I just want to check for spelling mistakes." Kafka casually lied as a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, betraying his nerves.

"That's bullshit and you know it." Narumi countered as he made a swipe for the device in Kafka's hands.

"What's up with you, Mr. McGrabby Hands? Usually I have to print these out and staple them to your forehead in order for you to read them." Kafka retaliated as he had to dance around his commander, making painstakingly sure the tablet didn't fall into the wrong hands.

"Maybe I just wanna see what kinda shit you're doodling on company time." Narumi growled with determination as he tried every trick in the book to knock the tablet out of Kafka's hands.

"Pfffft, w-who me? I-I'm not doodling! I wouldn't do that!" Kafka sputtered as he cradled the device close to his chest while trying his best to erase all of the artwork he had scrawled in the margins of the pages.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Kafka. I would too if I could." Narumi continued to goad as he pressed himself as close as he could over Kafka's back, still in a battle for dominance over the hotly desired device.

"Here, here! Take it! Jesus..." Kafka shouted defensively as he tossed over the tablet into Narumi's surprised hands. Narumi took a moment scrolling excitedly, hoping that Kafka had missed a piece somewhere on the digital pages. His eager grim dropped quickly into a disappointed scowl once he was sure there was nothing incriminating to be seen.

"Told you." Kafka confirmed breathlessly, "Busy with spell checking, like I said."

Narumi eyed him distrustfully through his bangs as he stayed hunched over the tablet. His suspicions over his officer's habits had yet to be dissuaded, but he relaxed his shoulders and took ownership of the device nonetheless.

"Whatever. Anything you draw probably looks like dogshit anyway." Narumi teased maliciously, wondering what kind of reaction he would get if he did.

Seeing the ploy for what it was, Kafka made sure to keep himself looking unshakeable as he tried to stare down his current captain. Soon, the two of them heard a pixelated popping noise that was synonymous with the act of receiving a call over their government issued ear buds. Hasegawa's authoritatively dull tone soon filtered in with a slight crackle.

"Narumi. I request Kafka's presence outside in the West Quadrant. Is he available to do so soon?" The commander's right hand man asked, the sound of the wind unmistakable under his request. Narumi sighed irritably as he gave a long, hard stare right back at Kafka.

"Yeah. Meeting's over so he should be there soon." Narumi answered before he nodded Kafka away, signaling he could go.

Kafka silently bowed back and turned sharply on his heels. Narumi watched as he lightly jogged away at a clipped pace, clearly wanting out of his company. Making sure Kafka didn't come running back for any unknown reason, Narumi picked up the disregarded tablet once again and gave the note screen a thorough once-over. Biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes glanced over the back and forward arrow at the bottom of the screen. He took a chance and tapped on the button several times. His eyes grew wide as he watched the margins of the notes become jarringly splashed in broad strokes of color. Giggling manically to himself, Narumi ran off back to his office so he could study Kafka's colorfully intricate secrets in peace.

Fall in Tachikawa had brought a bitter chill along with the changing of the leaves. It came slicing in on those pervasive and penetrative winds, the kind that makes old men say "It wouldn't be so bad if not for the wind". Soshiro's brother often compared him to this type of weather, saying that if it wasn't for his blades, he would be easier to ignore and that it's more regrettable that he isn't. It was the type of weather that made every fiber of your body run for warmth despite it not being life threatening. Hoshina would have dove for a more welcoming form of warmth, one he had become intensely attached to shockingly quickly, but was forced to supplement it with one cheap glass of beer after another.

He wasn't normally a heavy drinker, not unless you counted coffee. Lately the nights after work had started to require something stronger than coffee and after dark training. Everywhere he walked, it was just another reminder of what he lost. Crumbling walls, cracks in the foundation, it all reminded him of Kafka. It almost felt like it was all taunting him. The cracks and crannies mutating into leering jeers, mocking and slandering him, saying he wasn't strong enough. That if he had taken Number 10 down faster, that the base would still be here, that nobody would have been forced to transfer, that Kafka...

Thus the alcohol. At least with something fermented running through his system, there was a chance Hoshina could redirect his brain to something less soul-sucking. When it was just mug after mug of coffee, all it did was make the thoughts churn faster and bring up every little problem he didn't feel like dealing with right now. With the alcohol, the thoughts were slower. Sure it was the same thoughts, but he could at least buy himself enough time and fake plausible excuses to make himself feel better. His first and most recurring thought being about his current coldness towards his most treasured cadet.

Kafka was a Kaiju...apparently. And he had somehow managed to hide any indication of this affliction during the six months they had been together. Hoshina was beyond mad about it -he was furious- but that feeling did nothing against what he already knew to be self evident about the both of them. Given a second to open his mouth, Hoshina knew that Kafka would spill apology after apology, be on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness. He would probably go so far as to say that he would understand if Hoshina would prefer to never see him again after breaking his trust so demonstrably. It wouldn't stop Kafka from trying anyway, just so he could have a chance to help Hoshina understand that he didn't do it out of maliciousness or genuine distrust. Hoshina had an idea of why he did it, but he didn't want to tear himself up over it any further by jumping to conclusions.

All he knew was that if he was given that same second, he would have cut Kafka's throat before he had a chance to speak. Yes, it was partly because that would be his sick idea of a fitting punishment for not saying anything about it sooner (It's not like he would die from it). But the bigger reason was that Hoshina wouldn't be able to hear Kafka even suggesting they separate over something so trivial. Well, it felt trivial to Hoshina anyway. Soshiro loved Kafka. Even as Kafka was being loaded into the transport, Hoshina had to dig into everything he had not to cut down anyone that would be in his way and drag his dopey partner off over the horizon to whatever sense of safety they could carve out for themselves. He wanted to forgive Kafka just as much as he wanted to forgive Hoshina, but God he was too damn prideful to let this go so easily.

It's not like they had any time to hash this out properly anyway. Not with the attack of Tachikawa Base acting as an indicator for worse to come. He went into his arrangement with Kafka knowing full well that what was being unsaid was going to hurt them both, but talking it out and trying to heal from what would be said would take up so much precious time that they did not have. All this arrangement was to Hoshina was a way to see Kafka one more time, to get to touch him one. more. time. This was his way of making sure that moving forward, Kafka had a chance to be safe, as well as keeping track of how he was feeling. After he explained to Mina what he was going to be doing every week, she wrote down a list of expressions Kafka makes and what they meant. Kafka wasn't just Kaiju Number 8 to the Third Division, and Hoshina had to work with what he could do to make sure Kafka felt anything but unwanted.

But by not saying anything, Hoshina couldn't get back the same treatment Kafka would return tenfold if he just asked. This was the one-sided, unspoken, understanding that sent him to the local bars most nights. He initially despised the the communal loneliness that seemed to permeated the atmosphere of these places, but soon found himself becoming a major contributor of the melancholy fog he once avoided. The dark wood walls offered a sense of artificial coziness while the bartender had a good sense of when to talk it out with a customer and when to just serve and leave. The man behind the bar never offered to converse with him, probably understanding with just a glance that Hoshina's problem wasn't something that could be solved with small talk.

So there he sat. Nursing a third mug of light draft beer and praying that memorizing the wood grain pattern in the mahogany in front of him will be enough to distract him churning mind for one more night. With his eyes crossing and his mind still not quiet, Hoshina quickly understood that he was fighting a loosing battle. With a tired sigh, he pulled out a last ditch effort seeing as he didn't feel fit to head back just yet. He pulled out his phone and began to scroll endlessly, the motions sufficiently rendering his skull numb.

It wasn't something he ever wanted to make a habit out of. He was always going on about how there were so many other tasks that could be done that were more beneficial than doom-scrolling. It made him sound like an out-of-touch senior, but he always stood by that sentiment. Well, before now at least. He hated to admit it but some nights it really was the only thing that could get him distracted enough to sleep. Hoshina pulled up Chatter and skipped over his For You page, preferring to look at more national headlines than anything the algorithm spat in his face. He had only scrolled for a short while before he came across a familiar account profile.

Narumi had had posted something earlier in the day and it was quickly making headway through the notarized list of most fascinating things showcased that day. Hoshina just rolled his eyes at it and quickly moved past it, not feeling like being exposed to whatever attention-whoring shenanigans that fool had cooked up for himself. A few articles later, he felt weirdly compelled to go back up and look at it with the idea that maybe he would feel better if he could glean some scathing retort to it. It might make Narumi's post more popular, but when he joined in the conversation, that just meant that it only drew in more attention because he chimed in. And some days that would be enough for him.

Scrolling back up however, Hoshina was blindsided by the subject of the post. Narumi had posted some art. Not only that, it was art that Hoshina recognized. Hoshina had spent so many hours leaning over the artist's shoulder, critiqued every little doodle that ended up on the bottom of incident reports, and had been the subject of many an artwork that it was impossible for him not to distinguish Kafka's deft hand on the digital canvas. Rounded patches of cool colors cascaded under crisp, but messy line work. Portraits were nothing more than organized scribbles, but the still life's were where Kafka really shined.

In the slim margins of what were clearly meeting notes, Kafka had managed to depict one of the managerial heads sitting across from him at the table, including the top of Narumi's head and boot in frame and in perfect point perspective. "He does not deserve to look like a Renaissance painting" was the caption of the post. Hoshina only caught the heading of the post as he accidentally backed out of observing the screen shots more closely. Looking around the edges of the post, he understood that what he was looking at wasn't even the original post. Clicking one link after another, Hoshina managed to dig around long enough to find the rest of the chain of posts, all talking about Kafka's art.

"My assistant is so cooked Dawg! Caught his ass doodling during a meeting!1!" Was the title to the start of it all. From there, it had devolved into a more serious critique of the art found. One post after another was about how accurate the details were. Occasionally, there was one about how stupid-looking a fellow defense force member appeared, but it just looped back around to the precision of it all. Hoshina wasn't surprised. After all he had the same reaction to the first time he had discovered Kafka's artistic talent. The memory bubbled up unbidden, causing Hoshina to sniff back a runny nose as he tried not to get swept away by his feelings. The memory continued to play in the back of his mind, projected onto the phantom screen hung in the back of his eyes...

It was an unseasonably warm day in March last year. Hoshina only had the new recruits for a few months now, but he was feeling like they were making lots of progress to breaking in to being the best soldiers of this generation. For a reward, the ground troops of the Third Division got to leave the base for a whole day. There was a slight caveat to this in that they were asked to turn out to a school spirit event, but none of them minded since it still meant they got to skip out on training for a day. In fact, it felt like they were more than happy to show up to the event and get the chance to inspire the next generation themselves. Some even went above and beyond, buying some cheap toys and candy to pass out. Kafka had gone out of his way as well and bought boxes and boxes of chalk.

Hoshina had been continued to be surprised by this man. Even still having only 1% aptitude for the suits, he continued to be a mainstay among the Defense Force. Once Hoshina made enough excuses for him, backed by Kafka's consistent information gathering while in the field, it started to feel like the Higher Ups just gave up and backed off. So what if one guy in their platoon only had 1% percent to spare? He was doing his best to earn his keep and with everyone else surpassing records previously held by earlier iterations of their platoons, it seemed like they could spare to have the extra hand around. Unfortunately, this did unintentionally classify Kafka as a mascot, but no one was going to offer the information up intentionally.

And it wasn't like the man wasn't doing anything to dissuade the mascot allegations. When Hoshina had finally cleared enough paperwork to come down to the school to let some of the other officers take off, he saw Kafka over in a corner of the school's lot looking like he was giving a very educational lesson. Dressed in cheesy vacation finery, that is to say an open Hawaiian shirt with a white tank and jean shorts paired with socks and sandals, Kafka had squatted down so he was eye level with his own congregation of children and was animatedly discussing something that had them all enraptured. Surrounded by buckets of chalk, Kafka was using one to illustrate something on the black top before them. Interest immediately piqued, Hoshina decided to slide on by for a visit.

Childish chalk drawings littered the lot around him as he made his way over, some appearing to have been abandoned halfway through. Looking over at where Kafka was, Hoshina could see a much more detailed drawing of what looked to be a fearsome battle of strength between a comically large Isao and a daikaiju. Just under it, Kafka had started up another illustration and was using it as a base for an art lesson in chalk. He talked in simple words, having to slow himself down in his own excitement several times just to make sure that the other kids were following along. He actively encouraged questions, surveying his grouping to make sure everyone had a chance to see and to understand. On his knees, Kafka leaned over his own makeshift canvas and was about to start demonstrating a new facet of art but suddenly stopped once Hoshina's shadow made his presence known before he opened his mouth.

"Wait! Don't move." Kafka said as he held his hand up without looking, "Don't move a muscle. Stay right where you are."

He took out a piece of chalk and began to quickly sketch the outline of Hoshina's shadow. One Kafka got all the way around his head, he started to sketch other details of Hoshina's face like his haircut and sly shaped mouth.

"I know that silhouette anywhere!" Kafka exclaimed as he finished his rough outline, "Vice Captain Hoshina! I was wondering when you would show up." He finished just as he looked up at his vice captain and flashed him the brightest smile he thought he would ever see.

The two of them exchanged pleasantries, but it was already too late for him. Once he knew of the way Kafka saw the world, Hoshina started to become more and more invested in all other aspects of him. Kafka's art was a gateway into his mind, and Hoshina didn't hesitate to walk right in. It looked so bright and hopeful on first impressions, but the more Hoshina hung around Kafka the more he would start to catch glimpses of things not being the case. Kafka stopped being just the funny man of the group to him after he found out about his talent. Much like other great artists, Kafka was as layered and as colorful as watercolor on canvas.

Thus began a months-long secret relationship with a man that was originally here off of pity and bias. Hoshina was thankful he could stop making excuses to keep him around at some point, because now it meant he could poke around at Kafka a little more. More intently, more personally. He always found Kafka fascinating from the get-go, seeing as his initial performance during the second test was surrounded with an air of secretive fascination, but that all fell away once he saw the shining facets of Kafka's mind. Hoshina felt he was no better than a crow some days, but the love and attention he received from Kafka just meant that he stumbled onto a gift that just kept giving.

Hoshina continued to scroll down the chain of posts, trying to keep himself from bursting into tears. Each new sketch, each scrawl and scratch of digital ink felt better than anything intense nostalgia could replicate. It was almost like a salve for his weary mind, an old childhood blanket that never aged a day, offering comfort and relief and sorely, much needed warmth. It had been so long since a hand-written scrap of love had graced his desk, Hoshina hadn't realized how much he needed them to continue his day. If snapshots of daily life at Ariaka made him feel bad, seeing any piece of Kafka's old life at Tachikawa made Hoshina's heart skip a beat.

Lungs hiccuping as he scrolled past happy recreations of outings long past, he wondered if he was going to be able to keep it together for much longer. It wasn't that he was embarrassed to be seen crying, it was more so with how he felt right then. He felt like he was too open, his heart becoming too exposed. Like a bonsai being harshly shaped and molded into a memoriam of what he and his division once had. A flash of blackish-purple and the side profile of someone's cheerful face finally broke Hoshina. Slamming the phone on the counter, he brought a hand up to muffle an unbidden sob. He hadn't looked long, but he knew Kafka well enough that it couldn't have been anything other than his most favorite thing to draw.

Grabbing his mug of unfinished beer, Hoshina took off running towards the restrooms, not wanting to garner attention from the smattering of people in the dive bar he was holding himself up in. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the forced drought of affection, maybe just seeing Kafka art was the last straw, but Hoshina found that he couldn't take it anymore. Hoshina had been forcing a facade every moment of every day he managed to get out of bed. Being in a shitty little bar at the end of the night might have allowed him to drop the mask a little, relieve some of the pressure that the mask had been holding back, but even the Vice Commander, Second to Mina Ashiro in power and strength, had his limits. Seeing that Kafka still thought of him as a muse was his line in the sand.

He slammed the mug down on the long row of sinks as he neared the other wall. Turning sharply on his heels, he fell back onto the teal painted, concrete brick wall as his knees gave out from under him. His brain felt warm, like it had been taken out of his skull and been manhandled under the hot sun for far too long. His chest felt like it was in Number 10's crushing grip all over again, which honestly felt preferable to having nothing to hold him in their arms right now. A part of Hoshina wondered if he was imagining his legs shaking or if he really was being that fucking pathetic; drinking alone, crying in a dirty dive bar bathroom, killing himself over his iron sense of pride. No part of him was delusional enough however to deny the boiling streams of tears falling down his tired eyes as they fell onto his tightly gripped phone.

With just one glance, the same comfort Kafka's art gave him rendered him a sopping mess. He was the one that told Kafka not to get attached to his team-mates, and now here he was, being reminded all over again as to why he should've taken his own advice. It was stupid, it was demeaning, and it was all his fault. Sitting here, on the floor of a place he never would have walked into before he met Kafka, one thought fought it's way through the tears and tinnitus and made him confront this one, now ever present fact about himself. Given the chance to start all over again, to have never been close to Kafka in the first place and had just investigated what he first considered to be a threat, Hoshina... wouldn't have taken it. Kaiju or not, Hoshina would never give that man up for anything.

And yet he did. Because if he really held true to what he wanted, Kafka would still be at Tachikawa, not halfway up the country in another base being placated with busy work because no one trusts him with anything important anymore. For the longest time, hell even to this night, Hoshina's mind continued to waver back and forth over whether or not he ever really had a chance to fight the powers that be. Whether he really could have helped Kafka to stay or if it all was genuinely out of his hands, then and now. Like any of it matters this late at night anyway. Beds had been made, but all Hoshina could do was wish to lie in the one he made with Kafka.

Well... as much as it killed him right at this moment, at least he had Kafka's art. Art was supposed to make people feel something anyway, right? This was just another check mark on the long list of incredible things Kafka was capable of. Taking slow, deep breaths until after the tears stopped, Hoshina prepared himself to look again. The pain of the memory was great, but forcing oneself to not feel anything was starting to be worse. Grabbing the glass of beer from the counter, Hoshina wiped the spilled tears off the screen and turned it back on.

It was just what he expected, really. The last two posts containing about eight images total were all just head shots of Hoshina with different expressions. "Okay, this is just embarrassing. Why is there so many pics of this schmuck?" Was the first post's title, a little rude but a genuine question for those unprepared for the full weight of Kafka's unyielding need to have Hoshina be his inspiration. He let out a small giggle as he took a sip of beer, remembering Kafka's weird obsession with scribbling out rough outlines of his face in the corners of anything paper-like he could get his hands on. Several pages of his notebooks dedicated to kaiju anatomy specifically were often signed with his face next to Kafka's name. Hoshina liked to tease him about it, calling it the new age version of carving initials into trees. Seeing the post sort of healed him inside just a little, knowing Kafka hasn't completely changed even with their undisclosed separation from each other.

The second post was where his tears started to threaten to fall again. It was still bust and head shots of Hoshina, but they all had a reoccurring theme of him in various stages of sleep. "I hate E V E R Y T H I N G about this... WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNOW WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE ASLEEP?!?!??! I hope this is just some creepy stalker fan-shit on GOD." Was the title of the second half of the post. Again a... reasonable response, considering that their relationship was never public before now. Somewhere in the deep recesses in his thoughts, Hoshina had a feeling that this was going to come around and bite him in the ass, but being three beers in made it really hard to care about problems one couldn't immediately foresee. Sure made it really easy to remember the past, so it seemed. With every side angle, every illusion of light filtering over pale peach skin in every hastily drawn rendition of happy mornings past, Hoshina couldn't escape another trip down memory lane.

Kafka used to have a horrible sleep schedule, even while in the Defense Force. He was the type of person to fight every minute getting up once he heard the wake up siren due to staying up late at night studying. Hoshina was never going to admit this, but he was hoping he was going to have a chance to somewhat abuse his relationship status with Kafka and. . . encourage a slight change to the schedule. All for his own good of course. Can't continue to be a valuable member of the Defense Force if one isn't awake enough to contribute. Come to find out, Hoshina wasn't going to have to intervene at all once it was made clear that he didn't mind being Kafka's muse.

Hoshina caught on pretty quickly that Kafka was starting to get up earlier and earlier so he could sketch him at his most vulnerable. He hardly used paper medium anymore at this point, too much to drag around which made it obvious. He was the type of person that kept his illustrations close to his chest, not wanting to let others see before he was finished. Using his phone was just more convenient all around for him, checking all the boxes in all the right ways. As a birthday gift for Kafka, Hoshina went out of his way to get a hold of a phone that had a built in stylus. Every spare second Hoshina had to snag a glance of Kafka, was every second Kafka had his nose shoved in his new phone, scrawling away at it.

Which led to these precious moments they found themselves in while hiding from the world in Hoshina's room. Kafka had started to sleep with Hoshina at his place, working late enough into the night that everyone went to bed before he did just so he could book it over to his partner's room and stay with him until before morning. If anyone was to ask either of them why he went through so much trouble and risk, they both would jokingly answer that it was all for Hoshina's benefit because he runs cold and Kafka's practically a walking space heater. Really, it was for Kafka. That man would have spent all hours of the day looking and drawing Hoshina's face if anyone let him.

And that's exactly the view Hoshina woke up to most mornings. As his awareness slowly dripped back into his mind, he could feel his body was sprawled out at odd angles over his side of the bed. When Hoshina first joked about his plan to let Kafka stay over at his section of the barracks, he noted how oddly enthused Kafka was with the idea, but became visibly dismayed once the vice captain brought up how the two of them could never fit on his measly, military issued twin mattress. It wasn't long before Hoshina intervened with some supply orders and had a second twin frame and mattress smuggled up to his room. Snugged up against the wall with his pillow crammed under his broad chest, was Kafka; lying on his stomach and was most likely sketching another picture of Hoshina asleep and awkwardly positioned.

Hoshina did his best not to stir, knowing how easy it was for Kafka to break concentration when he was doodling. Keeping his eyes in that closed looking state, he continued to watch as Kafka chewed at his upper lip in deep thought as he was prone to do if he felt like he was struggling with a particular piece. Hoshina could watch him sketch his art all day if he could. The expressions Kafka went through as he worked told a story just as vibrant as his art could be. After watching his face contort from one of irritated concentration to comically restrained victory, Hoshina couldn't hold still any longer and giggled. Catching his muse awake, Kafka moved as if he was struck with a taser and instinctively tried to shield his phone from Hoshina's amused gaze.

"Come on, let me see!" Hoshina wearily droned with a smile, "I've been posing for you for hours." He sluggishly pulled his arm closer to Kafka's shoulder and gently massaged it, making it clear that he wanted to be closer.

Kafka let out a relaxed chortle as he complied and shifted just a little closer, "Uh huh, trying so hard to "pose" you started drooling for accuracy?"

"I do not!" Hoshina sleepily countered as he pushed Kafka playfully. The two of them giggled together as they liked to do, falling into that easy pattern of living that formed naturally when they were alone.

Suddenly not content with just a shoulder touch and a warm view, Hoshina slowly stalked himself closer to his bed-mate while staying under the thin sheets. He draped his nude form over Kafka's equally naked, prone back, slotting his hips over the lower officer's round ass and burying his face into the now super heated neck. Arms were nestled under the heavy frame as Hoshina took a long snort of Kafka's natural scent. He shifted back and forth a little purely for indulging in the sensation of another's heated being underneath him. Any and all thoughts Kafka had about continuing his daily morning sketches went flying out the window as he took the wordless affection with what was hoped to be a touch of grace.

'Seriously. Is there anything other than me in there?" Hoshina placidly asked once he finished absorbing Kafka's essence

"Kinda hard to say. You're always the most interesting one in the room." Kafka answered with a slight shudder, unintentionally exposing his neck at the languid tactility overloading his senses at the moment.

Nosing at the undefended area offered to him, Hoshina wiggled out an arm and took Kafka's phone from his hand. Kafka let it happen since Hoshina was probably one of the few people in this world he would let see such personal designs. His partner never had anything truly mean to say about his work, Even some of his more critical commentary was offered up as a joke which made it all glide down more easily. Those comments were only really applied to moments when Kafka was clearly not putting all of his effort into a piece, so in the end they didn't damage anything ego-wise. Some days it felt like Hoshina was the only person Kafka could get some genuine, reliable feedback, so it made him feel all the better that there was something he could do that occasionally impressed his commander on some level. Continuing to scroll through the list of drafts saved on his phone, Hoshina let out a concerning sounding chuckle at the volume of saved images that appeared to be about him.

"Geez, it's just one after the other with you isn't it?" Hoshina commented as he pulled his head out from behind Kafka's neck to look better.

"No no, keep scrolling. I'm pretty sure I have a few pieces that are different." Kafka challenged, now just as curious as to where those images went.

"From what, last year?" Hoshina jokingly asked as he looked at his lover more pointedly.

"Noooo, hold on. There's gotta be one that's more recent." Kafka answered as he took the phone back. He quickly scrolled the page back to the top and picked one from yesterday.

"Yeah, see? Some of these have multiple images." Kafka politely informed as he moved past a sketch of Hoshina drinking coffee and instead focused on a distorted self portrait.

"What even is that?" Hoshina wondered as he tried to lean closer to the phone.

"It's supposed to be a self portrait, but I drew it from how I look in your headboard. See?" Kafka said as he held up the image to the reflective metal bars that made up the back of Hoshina's bed.

"Oh, I get it now. Distortion practice?" Hoshina observed as his eyes flickered between the image and the inspiration.

"Something like that." Kafka confirmed as he pulled his phone back to search through the rest of his drafts for more evidence that he's not solely focused on his lover.

Hoshina let out a soft hum as he watched Kafka try to defend himself, "You know, now that I think about it, there was detail missing from that piece."

"Wait, really?" I mean, I thought I was doing well with the proportions." Kafka muttered as he went back to the sketch they were looking at first.

"See? Right there." Hoshina pointed to a spot on Kafka's shoulder in the image when it was pulled back up, "There's something missing."

"Really? Not to question you or anything- you're the one with a better eye for detail after all."

"Yep, this." Hoshina interrupted and swiftly bit down on the sensitive part of Kafka's neck where it met the meat of his shoulder.

Kafka sharply gasped as he accidentally bucked into the treatment, "God, you're a menace" He muttered lovingly.

"Hmmm, you love me for it though." Hoshina groaned back after he languidly lapped at the mark it left.

Kafka returned a kiss before continuing to move through image after image. As he watched, Hoshina found his various thoughts coming back to one central theme.

"Surprised you haven't started an art blog before now." He ruminated as Kafka pulled up another sketch.

"Used to, actually. On Chatter? Back in my late high school, early Monster Sweepers days." Kafka offered openly as he tossed an unimpressed look over his shoulder.

"You're kidding." Hoshina responded with genuine astonishment, to which Kafka shook his head no with an amused smile.

"Well show me then!" Hoshina cheered enthusiastically, shimmying impossibly closer to Kafka like he was settling down to a good movie.

"I-I-I can't do that!" Kafka retorted with the blush on his face quickly creeping back over his cheeks, "I couldn't remember the password if my life depended on it."

"You don't have to log in, you still remember your username right?" Hoshina questioned, now desperate for this potential snapshot of Kafka younger in life.

"I mean... yeah?" Kafka answered shyly, "God, this is going to be so embarrassing." He muttered before he closed out of his sketching app and opened up another one.

After several retypings in the quest to remember his old high school username, Kafka eventually came across the page after backtracking from someone else's old post. It was clear from the dated visual puns in the blog banner that it had certainly been a while before he had updated anything. They both cringed a little once they saw that it had been fifteen years since he had last updated.

" 'TheBestDEFENSEIsAGoodArtist'? That's your username?" Hoshina teased with dripping malice and astonishment.

"Look it was either that or something clever with Goromon. It was the last thing Mina helped me with before... well, you know." Kafka tried to defend himself, but any move to do so collapsed under the weight of the memory.

Hoshina noticed the way his face fell just that little bit and snuggled up closer as reassurance, "Probably for the best you didn't go with the second one. Probably would have confused a lot of people to come to your page and not see anything related to it." He mentioned as he squeezed his arms around his partner's chest.

"Well, it wasn't like there wasn't any Goromon fanart from time to time. Maybe if I did, I would have had a chance to be more popular." Kafka countered dolefully.

"What did you draw anyway?" Hoshina politely asked with both curiosity and gentle encouragement.

Kafka slowly scrolled down the page to let Hoshina take in the art. It was set to show from most to least popular, making it clear that a lot of people liked his funnier depictions of kaijus. Every once in a while, something drastically different broke up the timeline. There were several anatomical pencil sketches of kaiju bodies with various layers peeled away from them. From the skin to the veins, down past the muscle and right through the core of the bones, it was a study of raw power poised in a deathly still life. There were even notes and arrows that littered the borders of the page that pointed out something that couldn't be depicted through graphite lines alone. There were several and they all varied in quality, clearly bringing to light a growing talent.

A flash of color snapped at Hoshina's attention as Kafka continued to scroll past. Shooing his finger away, the vice captain took back partial control of the phone so he could see what that last image was. It was a digital rendition of one of the larger kaiju skeletons that continued to rage through the streets of Japan. What made this one different from all the rest was the fact that it wasn't just showing the skeleton, but the damage done to the surrounding buildings as well. Over all of it was a plush blanket of foliage, lacing its way over and under the long broken rubble and the now ancient looking remains of the gargantuan threat. It had set itself apart from the other productions of Kafka's mind, not only from its content but also from a still-fresh feeling of inexplicable melancholy. Such a bright picture should have told a story about new beginnings, but the only thing Hoshina could feel from this particular work was an odd sense of desolation.

"This one is quite different." He commented as he looked at it intensely, absorbed into the alien terrarium on the other side of the digital glass.

"Yeah." Kafka scratched the side of his head and sighed with bitter sounding heaviness, "Believe it or not, that is a vent piece." he continued as he pointed a quick accusatory finger at the screen.

"A vent piece?" Hoshina questioned.

He found it was an odd subject matter to use to depict intense negative emotion. Not only that, he had a hard time picturing Kafka illustrating something so calm and serene as an outlet for whatever turbulent emotion that could be concocting inside that thick skull of his.

"Yeah." Kafka sighed again as he took back ownership of the phone, "I drew this one after my... sixth? Attempt at joining the Defense Force."

He scrolled back up a little so Hoshina could read the caption over the attached picture.

"Just got out of the Defense Force testing lab again. Just gotta wait for an answer now, but I can already tell this isn't going to end well. Got a job interview with a kaiju cleaning department in a few days since I'm leaving High School at the end of the month, so lets hope that goes better!"

"Don't you think you were jinxing yourself a little with that caption?" Hoshina tried to jokingly ask, but it was clear that Kafka was stuck relieving his childhood blues.

"At that point you get a sense of what the instructor was looking for in their recruits. They don't really hide their preferences well, even when they're just glancing in your direction." Kafka answered dejectedly as he moved away from the image.

"After that, I had stopped captioning them. I didn't even bother giving them names." Kafka continued to scroll down his page, every once in a while another, similar piece of art made itself known.

He was right. None of them were captioned. He didn't know if it was intentional, but with none of them being named it seemed to add on to the sense of grief. It almost made it feel like these pieces were abandoned, which was not like Kafka at all. Failing time and time again in such a predictable manner would obviously break anybody's will, but the outcome of such torment had created these pieces. Now with context, these illustrations had ingrained themselves into Hoshina's mind. This was the first instance of him ever learning what a broken Kafka looked like.

"Here." Kafka quietly announced, "This is the last thing I ever posted to this account." He pulled up what looked to be the roughest sketch Hoshina thought he would ever see.

This looked more like a vent piece than any of the others he had seen along the way. Quick, harsh, and dark lines were strewn all over the limited space of the sketchbook this was depicted on. From what Hoshina could deduce, it was one of the larger kaijus with nothing remarkable about its appearance. The details would have come in later for sure, but it was clear that this piece never made it to that stage. From what he could tell however, was that this one had the potential to be one of Kafka's more disturbing artworks.

Buildings were flattened all around the corpse, cracked and broken apart like several city blocks had undergone a devastating explosion. The body was lying on its back, its limbs at unnatural angles. Its stomach looked more than exposed, more so that the explosion that leveled the buildings around it had been caused by whatever was inside the beast. It didn't look flayed, more so shredded and mangled- almost beyond recognition. While the others had been depicted with at least some sense of grace among the dereliction, this was far from it. This was agony and misery made pure and raw. Hoshina was almost glad that Kafka didn't finish this one. He hadn't known that his officer had such an ability to express such pain from just a bare-bones sketch, and he hoped that Kafka would never have to again.

"Told myself if I made this final test, I would finish it." Kafka's cold and stoic words broke the trance the image had held over Hoshina at that moment. "Not hard to guess what happened."

"You finally did make it though, haven't you?" Hoshina offered as a small token of relief against the unintentional strife he didn't know he would be causing that day.

The Kaiju Alert system went off before Kafka could give back an answer.

There wasn't a day that hadn't gone by where Hoshina had wondered if there was anything better he could have said in that moment. What even was there to say? Better late than never? You made it anyway, despite everything? He knew Kafka wouldn't take any of those as consolation. After all, Kafka still hadn't made it, per se. He wasn't by Mina's side like he promised all those years ago. It didn't help Hoshina was technically standing in the way of that, and that wasn't even getting into their unapproved relationship or the whole "Defense Force's New Kaiju Pet" situation. Even if it wasn't expressed through his art, Hoshina knew that it was probably still chewing Kafka up inside.

At least their current situation hadn't caused Kafka's art to revert back to his earlier standard of subjects. That meant that there was still something he was holding onto, some semblance of hope or light that managed to drag Kafka through each day. Which was more than Hoshina could say for himself. He couldn't show it, but he had long since lost any hope for a sign that things had a chance to go back to normal. That was just the case some days, having to adjust to what could potentially be a permanent change in schedule.

Hoshina really didn't want that to be the case. If he had any true, real power, he would tell the directors to shove it and have Kafka back at Tachikawa by morning. But he couldn't. The best he could do was arrange these weekly visits under the guise of training and nothing else, and that "Nothing Else" clause was what was truly killing him on the inside. Despite the pride, despite the resentment, he wanted to see Kafka again- really see Kafka again, Not just for training but to hang out and have dinner together again, to wake up together in the morning and rush out the door before anyone could question them again. The only thing stopping it all from continuing was time...

...Or was it? Looking back through the drawings showing moments from before everything went to shit, Hoshina started asking questions he had thought he had already answered but only gave slapdash, shoddy excuses as a stopgap for the emotions he wasn't ready to deal with. Yes, they didn't know how much more time they would have together, but most normal people would take that as an excuse to do everything they could to spend more time together. The real fact of the matter was, it wasn't Hoshina using a lack of time as an excuse to hold off having the one conversation that was the key to fixing his lack-of-a-relationship-woes. It wasn't just keeping up the excuse of not wanting to further complicate their already uncertain future. At the core of it all, Hoshina just didn't want to admit that he was a petty, prideful man.

Kafka being a Kaiju didn't bother him in the slightest. If anything, he would have probably have been milking that excuse dry to weasel his way around any potential hiccups that would be stemming from his technically inappropriate relationship to his subordinate. What really bothered Hoshina the most about this whole unfortunate situation was the fact that it felt like Kafka didn't trust him enough to tell him about his situation before now! It boiled his blood some days when he remembered that Reno and Kikoru both knew about Kafka's condition before he did. He was also aware of the circumstances surrounding how those two ended up finding out, but he always felt like he was dealt a similar opportunity and somehow that information was denied anyway. They were dating! They were serious! What do you mean Kafka never felt like telling him?

It wasn't until about a month into their awkward separation treatment that Hoshina stopped and thought about why Kafka held it back from him. Even if Kafka did trust him completely, there was no guarantee it wouldn't have made things worse. Kafka could have proven seven ways from Sunday that he could be trusted to fight alongside others, but there would always be doubt. Hoshina wouldn't have been able to offer any certainty to Kafka that the captains or the directors could be trusted with his unusual situation. Hell, if Kafka had told him in the earliest days of their relationship, there might have been a chance that Hoshina would have been the one to give his partner a reason to never trust again. Solely because of the pressure from his job, of course, but if push had come to shove then... Hoshina had a feeling that things would not have ended up as passively as they are now.

In the end, Hoshina had no right to blame Kafka or hold anything against him. At this point, the silent-not-silent treatment was purely because Hoshina's pride was wounded from the insinuation. Now that fire that kept his ruefulness going was practically down to the embers. Even the resolve to not be the first to apologize was dwindling. It became clear all of a sudden that Kafka was never going to be the one to apologize for withholding information because he follows Hoshina's initiative. If he's the one acting like it's not a good time to hash out one's feelings for each other, then Kafka will sit tight and hold his tongue until Hoshina makes any sort of indication that he's ready to listen. Kafka's just as good at respecting boundaries as he is following orders, but it certainly makes it harder on Hoshina when he knows he's the one at fault for perpetuating this purgatory he didn't mean to drag Kafka into.

Screw pride and screw pettiness, Hoshina was truly missing his man tonight and if the price of having him back in his was the cost of losing face, then fine. Having to eat his own words would definitely be a step up from wallowing in a shitty bar drinking shitty beer night after night. The beer would taste better with company, but in order for that to happen he'd have to find a way to open the door to a proper apology. He didn't want to make it feel like he was only apologizing because he was lonely, he really did want to be sincere about it. Problem was, he couldn't remember a time where he sounded genuinely sincere. In his line of work, if he was found to be wrong on something it would have cost him his job. And as far as being wrong in his friendships went, well... when everything comes down to a matter of opinion, one doesn't tend to care who's right or wrong then. This really would be the first time he would have to admit that he was both sorry and wrong.

As his hand unconsciously brought the near empty beer mug to his mouth, Hoshina came to understood that he wasn't even in the right head-space to come up with anything sincere, let alone sound like it. Looks like this was just going to have to be another problem for Morning Hoshina to work out among the other million problems he usually had to deal with. Most of those problems might just end up getting shoved to the side tomorrow. Once he figures out a way to get his Kaiju boyfriend back in his arms, a lot of those problems aren't going to seem so big after then. For now though, Hoshina just felt like milking whatever time he had allotted for himself in the bar, just savoring the crappy drink and watching the shit show Narumi dug himself into tonight.

By accidentally refreshing the page, he had discovered a fresh trail of posts linked to the chain he had already made. Turns out Narumi had started an argument with another professional artist over the quality of Kafka's boredom doodles, and in retaliation had tried his had at a self portrait. It looked no better than a child's pre-school scratches, but Narumi was trying to say that there was a basis for a new, hidden talent somewhere in the mess of scribbles on their screens. Hoshina just chuckled as he saw Kafka's fiercest supporter come to his defense in near-real time. He took a couple screenshots of the conversation with the plan to hold it over Reno's head later as blackmail. Might also become a teaching tool as to when and how not to feed internet trolls, who knows?

It appears that several other members of the Third Division also couldn't sleep tonight as the likes and reblogs of more, familiar accounts began to trickle through the now popular chain of posts. A lot of them had begun to openly theorize over whether or not Kafka actually knows his Vice Captain that closely or it's all just some imagery practice. If Hoshna wasn't under the influence, he normally wouldn't have started to develop this intense feeling of being out of the loop. If Hoshina wasn't under the influence, he wouldn't have started thinking about how funny it would be to stir the pot a little. If Hoshina wasn't under the influence, he would certainly have never acted on such invasive and impish thoughts.

Picking himself off of the bathroom floor and feeling like there was nothing to loose, Hoshina took a long look at himself in the mirror. Instead of reflecting upon himself and reconsidering how damning this could turn out, he defaulted to being the one thing he and Kafka understood all too well-

-the joy of becoming a class clown.

Taking inspiration from Kafka's continued use of his image and depicting it in any way, shape, or form, Hoshina decided to shed both his jacket and shirt and tossed them carelessly onto the bathroom counter. Chugging the last of the beer, he intended for some of it to leak down the sides of his mouth and spill slightly over his chest. Twisting and shifting under the bright florescent lights, Hoshina managed to find a pose that felt vaguely suggestive enough to his likeness and still looked tasteful enough to look like something an artist would use as a reference pose. Pulling up his camera and hovering it by the side of his head, Hoshina gave himself one more once-over before he took the photo. At the last second, he remembered some of the faces Kafka had sketched out earlier at the meeting, with one in particular being a portrait of him with his tongue playfully sticking out. A face he was sure done before as far as he remembered. Replicating the face, Hoshina took the photo and posted it directly to one of Narumi's older posts from this morning, one that was more directly related to Kafka and his obsession to his Vice Captain.

He posted it with the caption-

"Tell your "Assistant" that he can have his Muse back if he can promise not to cry into his sketchbook over it."

@margoteve <- felt only right to tag you since it was your headcanon about Kafka being an artist that caused this to spiral out of control.

@iceclew <- just letting you know I posted another story. I'll port a copy over to Ao3 later tonight.

@kafkahibinomybeloved<- you were probably going to find this on your own anyway, but I just thought I'd cut out the middle man.

[ruby-static]

HAHA GET HUGGED, IDIOT. GET ABSOLUTELY LOVED AND CHERISHED.

[kindlythevoid]

get HUGGED, nerd

Ahhh, but the joke is on YOU!!!

In hugging me, you GET HUGGED AS WELL!!!

Two way street, nerd. B)

Kindly,

The Void

[tonycries]

Video Game Lover - G.S.

Synopsis. Suguru Geto, the resident nerd who “helps” you with your homework. Tall, gloomy, mean, and- and an alpha? And he’s in rut?!

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! nerd! Geto, ruts, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pánty-sniffer Geto, he goes FÉRAL, MEAN Geto, headIocks, slightly bímbo! reader, dúmbifícation, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, MANHANDLlNG, Geto with glasses + tattoos, overstím, knots, first times (Geto), pússydrunk Geto, MATÍNG BÍTES, oraI (f + m), p talking, spítting, praise, he’s POSSESSIVE, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.8k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Please, Sugu—?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you keep my panties?”

And that makes Geto shudder, breath hitching into something dangerously husky as he pushes his thick glasses further up his nose bridge. Greedy gaze darting anywhere but where you were oh-so-vulgarly leaning towards him. “Tch- as if I’d ever…”

With a grin, you shift to show him a flash of cherry pink peeking out from underneath that sinfully short skirt of yours.

Purposefully. 

He was gone. 

“F-fine.” He’s gulping, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d goaded the ill-tempered campus genius, Geto Suguru, into doing your- ah, “helping” you with your homework. “But-”

Before Geto can ramble away the usual lecture about something called “academic integrity”, you’re jumping up and tackling his towering frame into a hug. Pressing the curves of your tits into his Digimon t-shirt - just as a little treat - and flouncing excitedly back to your friends. 

But what you didn’t notice is the way that makes Geto stiffen.

His tummy lurching, nose raising into the air- 

Oh.

You smelled so sweet. 

Geto’s spit-slicked lips part open to steal a sharp gasp of the sweltering lecture hall air- it couldn’t be. And his bleary irises can’t even focus, can’t lock on anything but the figure of you mere feet away. 

…Could it?

With a slight tilt of your head, you’re staring back at him - and something…carnal pangs through his suddenly-boiling veins.

Then you smirk- and Geto twitches.

Fuck.

He would’ve crashed onto his knees right then and there if it wasn’t for the way that you proceed to dig through your cute, useless bag - still in the middle of a conversation with your friends - and throw something flimsy and pale pink at him.

No shame. No regrets.

None for either of you; but especially not Geto once his strong palms reach out to urgently scramble for the shred of gauzy fabric in midair. 

Tangling the stringy satin between thick, ringed fingerpads, he’s sinking his face into its sugarcoated scent before sinking into the realization that you’d had the audacity to throw your fucking panties at him in the middle of a bustling seminar. 

Yet, he was even worse - jaw slackening, broad chest heaving with rasping ahs! as he drinks in loooong repeated puffs of your pheromones. Coating his brain in melty molasses of sugar and spice and you. 

There was a reason you were the most sought-after omega on the entire campus. With your filthy skin-tight outfits, and your flirty smiles. 

And him? He couldn’t get enough.

Smearing away a sloppy splotch of saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth- when had he even started drooling? Geto watches through watery peripherals as you mouth a smug “an advance” at him, and saunter out of the class in your tightly-knit group.

Too tightly-knit, if you asked Geto. Dead-on stare narrowing, he catches the way one of your so-called friends brush away an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder. 

Just barely. His head snapping towards Geto when the latter growls-

Oh.

Oh, fuck. 

He was fucked.

.

.

.

Listen, it’s not as if you make Geto finish all of your homework - just the ones that you found too tedious, too complicated, or too time-consuming. Which might just happen to be all of them, but you digress! 

He was more than happy to collect those slutty scraps of silk you called “panties” and you were proud to keep your streak of having the second-highest GPA in class (after the man himself, of course.)

The more important the grade the more sinful the panties. 

After all, it wasn’t as if you minded all of Geto’s fiery stares at you during lectures, the spark in his eyes when he tried to drill a difficult concept into your mind, or the way his dark lashes would flutter drunkenly the moment you got too close. 

In fact, you might even admit that you…like it.

Because Geto was hot. Fuck- he was fucking pretty.

You’d seen just how fawny his amethyst eyes were behind those clunky glasses. Lengthy Stygian hair, so many inches above six feet, and biceps that pull his gamer t-shirts so taut that it made you wonder what was underneath.

But it wasn’t as if a nerd - and a beta, obviously, though you didn’t care for secondary gender - like him would ever make a move. 

Hell, he barely even talked to anyone other than the professors. 

All grumbling and rude. It took you weeks to even get him to acknowledge your existence, and that was only by giving him an “accidental” glimpse of your red, red bra strap. 

So you were mostly fine and dandy with this lecherous transaction of yours. Geto was smart; he was never a minute late in emailing you your surely A+ worthy work before their deadlines, and you’d gift him his little treat just the day after.

Except- you were lounging on your couch as the 12:00AM deadline for your latest essay rolled around and there was still no sign of Geto. Not a single ping from your inbox. 

With an impatient thumb, you’re idly scrolling through the sparse chat history you’d all but bullied him into sharing with you, brows furrowing deeper and deeper at your plethora of ignored texts and calls. 

Nothing new but, seriously…

Scoffing as the clock tick! tick! ticked! its way to 12:01AM. 

He was late - and your homework was, too. 

You’d been feeling a little too…feverish tonight to attend that one party your friends had invited you to, and thank your stars for that. Because not even minutes later, you were stomping the few blocks down to Geto’s apartment building and all the way up to his white-painted front door.

“Hey, Sugu—” You rap your knuckles harshly on the wood, exasperated. “Are you in there?”

No answer. 

Huffing, your heated skin stings where it clashes even harder against his door. Impatiently, “Hah- making an omega walk all the way out here…I should take back all those panties I gave you. Yaga deducts points for late submissions and I am not leaving until you come out.”

Still no answer. Not even a sound. 

“In fact, I’ll only get louder.”

Not even a breath. 

That was…strange. He should’ve at least come out to shut up your racket so that he can study, if not at the mention of your panties. 

And right now your annoyance was being washed away with sharp waves of concern, a nervous bout of laughter escaping you as soon as your hand falls on the door handle to find it shockingly unlocked. Oh? 

You and Geto might not be the best of friends, but you wanted him to be alright goddammit. 

“Better come out and stop me now, unless you want me to barge in!” You call out, jostling the cold, metallic knob for good measure. It holds firm in your hand, the only thing grounding your swimming mind as you bask in a second of silence. Two. Three. Before sighing, “Have it your way then. I’m coming in–”

Then it hits you.

Slow, at first. Like a smell from a distant memory that you find yourself aching for - find yourself stumbling a few steps inside Geto’s cozy apartment and devouring in generous lungfuls. 

You slam the door shut to cloud yourself in the saturated air and gasp.

This was nothing like any expensive perfume you’d smelled before. It felt like your entire body was on fire, like every one of your pores was scorching from deep inside. Like you needed him.

Head whirling with the heady concoction of caramel salt scent and those dark undertones of wine. Something so dangerous. So tempting. So…Suguru.

You jolt. He was in rut. 

Wait, rut? Geto Suguru? Wasn’t he…wasn’t he a beta? 

You swear he was. You didn’t know what was happening, only angling your head up for more and more and more-

Shit, you’re shoving your thighs together before you know it. Already feeling the slippery stream of slick that sloshes past your pussy lips and puddles at the bottom of your underwear. And you know you’ve never been wetter. 

“A-anyone home?” You’re straining out, the doughy mountain of your palm rubbing mindlessly up n’ down through your thin skirt. 

Undoubtedly, there’s still no response. And yet, it’s almost as if he’s calling to you - and maybe he is.

Feet wrenching one jerky pitch after the other, you have to balance yourself on the hallway walls to fucking keep your sanity.

And to perhaps stop your weakened knees from slipping you into a pile on the polished hardwood floors. Perhaps to stop yourself from breaking out into a run to wherever your inner luna was clawing to take you. 

You breathe, “Th-this isn’t funny, Suguru…”

The soft thuds of your padded steps thunder in time with your racing heart. Louder and louder. Deafening by the time you’re catching sight of a large mahogany door at the end of the corridor that waves ever-so-slightly ajar. 

Where those hypnotic pheromones were the most saturated. And your mouth waters. 

It’s only once you’re reaching it - trembling, standing stock-still, right outside what you now assumed to be his bedroom - that you realize Geto was calling to you. Well, more like he was calling out for you. 

Your name. 

In soft, breathy moans that make his rich baritone crack.

“Get the fuck in here.”

.

.

.

The moment Geto Suguru catches a glimpse of your oh-so-cute face - the moment he senses that you’re actually, honest-to-goodness here - he cums. 

And he can’t help it- fuck, he can’t help it.

Even dabbing the fat of his massive thumb right over his bawling tip can’t stop the heaping torrents of gooey white escaping from him. Such slick ribbons upon ribbons crawling their way up Geto’s washboard abs, you can only watch with bated breath as his messy, round globs of seed trickle up n’ down until they drench his dark happy trail. 

Your watery thighs stick together, maw falling agape because you’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined this.

You had. Once or twice or many, many times. 

All splayed out on his Digimon sheets like this; meaty thighs cracked open, silky locks slathered across every inch, glasses fogged up. Ruined. Geto’s sweat-shimmered back arches off the outdated bed springs with a creak! while his hand flew furiously up and down his swollen cock.

Shit, you’re biting your lip. Syllables jumping roughly off of your heavy tongue, “S-Suguru?”

SLAM!

It’s like the sound of your voice does heavenly wonders to him.

Plump, tender balls squeezing, Geto’s free hand encloses behind his sweaty scalp and onto the headboard above him. Hard enough that the sturdy frame snaps, pale biceps flexing enough that you find your skin clammy with need. 

“Fuh-fuck.” He’s hissing through clenched teeth. Staring right at your meandering form through dazed half-crescents, mouth departing endless husked grunts. And oh…oh a few more dewy droplets of cum spray out of his bawling orifice once you gulp. “Look what you’ve done t’me.”

“Y-you’re an alpha?” You finally manage to find your voice. 

He snickers, the murky scent of the room growing ever-stronger. And even more than that was your own scent, mixing and melding until you felt dizzy. “And you’re in danger, little omega~”

Your widened gaze grows to lock on the way that his rugged fingers continue milking out creamy sploshes of cum. Expertly flying up, up, up– before fisting his hefty base with an airy sigh. 

Large. He was so large. 

And in so many ways more than one. 

An alpha. He was an alpha. 

Seductively sculptured body dwarfing his single bed with what looked like miles upon miles of toned, tall muscles. Were those tattoos spying out from the sides of his back?

A syrupy geyser of sap formulates between his two legs the size of your head- this was Geto Suguru? 

And his cock - oh, he was so perfectly massive. Oversized, even in Geto’s engulfing hand. 

So painfully hard that he was blushing a blossoming magenta near the very tip of his globular cockhead, throbbing. Pulsing. Thick lightning bolts of veins gripping down either side of his pink shaft and all the way down to his breeder balls.

With a harrowed gasp filling your lungs, you’re spotting just the barest fringe of something soaked-through and gauzy tangled underneath his digits. 

Fuck. 

“Is that-”

“This?” Geto grins - grins. You’ve never seen him smile let alone show off this dopey, predatory leer plastering all over his flushed features. A gentle dimple embeds near his curled lip, and he quirks an eager brow. 

You can barely even think while he untwines the frilly pair of panties you’d thrown at him in class from around his aching cock. Sticky and stretched now, it finds home right near his flared nostrils as Geto brings it up and sniffs. Crazed. “C’mere.”

The rawest of glints twinkle in his half-lidded vision as you inch closer, the way you tremble on your two feet like a newborn fawn was adorable. And he can’t stop himself from letting out a low whistle–

“Yeah. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your body kneels you right by Geto’s bedside before your mind can even think to catch up. Head lolling lecherously against the wide plane of his shivering thigh, you let your tongue lap up a pearl of his buttery white cum and keen. He was even bigger up close. “Sugu—”

“Nuh uh, gorgeous.” Geto tuts, gravelly tonality rendering you confused just as much as you were needy. His two palms grip the crown of your head to peer upwards, “S’all because of you. You n’ those d-damn panties. M’not your hck! nerdy fuckin’ Sugu right now. Best remember that- m’gonna make sure you remember that.”

He’s more than gazing down at you, he’s boring right through you. 

Spectacle frames creeping precariously down his nose bridge, tendrils of his shaggy hair almost curtaining him, pellets of sweat trickle down his temples and hit you in thin spatters. So close. And you wanted him closer. 

“Tilt your head back, lemme see that ngh- pretty mouth.” One hand slips from your head to curl around Geto’s fattened hilt, nudging his puckered tip to strike your lips with a dull thud! “Count.”

“One-”

And it’s not once. 

“T-two-”

Not twice. 

“Three- hah!”

Not thrice, until he’s leaving your mouth whimpering and stinging with the slam of his rock-hard shaft slapping down your tender flesh. Leaving a slimy trail of pre and salty cum that leaks between your maw and drives you wild. 

Then - and only then - is he wrenching you up closer. Manhandling your pliable body until the very tip of his perfectly button nose meets yours. So close.

Your teary lashes flutter halfway shut once you feel the foggy breeze of his breath scorching your face, cunt quivering with the anticipation of a kiss. His pheromones hit you in powerful gusts, your primal urges scratching up to the surface.

Closer. Too close- for a kiss that never comes.

“Heh. Cute.”

He doesn’t kiss you.

But before you know it, Geto pitches his tongue back and wets your shimmery pouted lips with a large wad of his syrupy saliva. 

In just a split-second. 

Bowing you back underneath him and stuffing your chatty mouth so damn full of his swollen cock that you can’t even think of anything else. Fat droplets of tears fountain up at the edge of your eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so split open.

He was eight- no, maybe nearing ten whole inches that scraped the back of your mushy throat with his ruthless mushroom tip. 

Hard. Girthy. 

Cratering out a wet circumference of bruises into your melty mouth with a singular thrust, and it wasn’t enough- fuck, it might never be enough.

Geto’s throwing his head back, toned core muscles tensing. “O-oh. This. Th-this is what it feels like?” 

You almost wonder whether he even knew what he was doing once you feel a shaky thigh throwing behind your neck and reel you in close. Drawing you all the way up until your nose scratches his tufted pelvis, mouth hanging wiiidely agape. 

“Sh-shooo big–” You’re mumbling through a scalding mouthful, slicked walls clenching at the realization that he had you trapped in a headlock. And by the looks of it, he was never going to let go.

“Yeah- yeah?” He shudders out, bass cracking into a zillion shatters near the end. Octaves higher. Unsteady. Meanly, Geto’s leg jostles you even further from behind to probe his shaft even deeper into your velvety mouth, your chin buckling underneath his curvaceous ballsack. Holding you still. Firmly. “Fuckin’ l-like that, don’t you?”

You can’t nod. You can’t hum affirmative. He was so bulky inside you that your lips sag underneath the sheer weight.

But your omega preens for the attention, sleek tongue zig-zagging over one of the pounding veins that poked into the roof of your mouth. And it’s enough of an answer for Geto.

Spitting out, “Oh yeah? Dirty girl. Didn’t expect your loser lil’ Sugu to have such a fat fuckin’ dick, huh?” 

So fucking…rude, words teetering right on just the edge of being menacing. And you were just so gorgeous crying all over his cock like this, so much better than when you were hanging off of other alphas. 

So much better when he strays a thumb to feel your filling throat, the way he’s lodged deep inside. Him. All him. 

You let off a whiny gag the moment his blushing red cockhead twitches up ferally at the thought. The static cotton in your head making you slurp his length with a sloppy squelch! 

He’s pushing up his glasses furiously, “Can you even take it? Seriously- acting so popular n’ mighty when you can’t even take my hngh- cock.”

And you’re about to rebuke, you’re about to- you swear.

But oh, he didn’t have mercy now. 

“Whaaaat? M’just saying.” The ridges of his head press up all against every nook and cranny of your mouth, a silvery trail of drool now seeping from between your locked lips. Geto wipes away his own cobwebs of drool with the back of his mouth, giggling. Giggling when you scuffle, “S’it too big? Too big for our f-famous lil’ omega?”

Your throat aches something carnally delicious when he keeps a hold ‘round your neck to plunge into the waterlogged bottom. Bobbing your head in lewd maneuvers allll the way up n’ down. “Ngh- Sugu–” 

“Hah- hah!” His glassy eyes gleam something wild, microscopic tastebuds watering all over again with just how intensely he was gawking down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that his eyes were glowing- “Why are ya still fuckin’ speaking, gorgeous?”

It wasn’t a Command, but oh did it feel like one.

Only mere moments later and Geto’s springing himself off of the bouncy mattress to shovel your hot throat full of copious inches and leave you spellbound. Swirling a lazy few half-circles of his heavy tip where you were most sensitive.

“Cool that pretty lil’ head. You’re cuter when yer like th-this, y’know?” He groans, feeling your slippery cheeks grip his shaft in an adorable hug. Knee drawing up even tighter to hold you still while he fucked your mouth the way he’d been wishing he could for so long. “All shut up a-and mine and…”

Ah, breath wisping away. He’s prodding your poor gag reflexes at the very same time he rovers up a stray hand to squeeze your nostrils together. “-only mine.”

“Nghh- G-etooo—” And yet, he still doesn’t let up. You’re cupping Geto’s plumpened balls with a delicately loving touch, lustrous strands of spit layering your lips. “Want you.”

“Hm?”

“Want you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Those are the very same words he’s been dreaming of every single rut since meeting you. And he can’t help himself, he can’t stop himself from letting out a slew of swears and cumming.

Shocked. 

“Sh-shit—” It’s all Geto can do to bite down on the plush of his bottom lip and wrangle back those embarrassing fucking whimpers on his tongue, dewy eyes sparkling with a few overstimulated tears. “You’re gonna- f-fucking…”

But he’s not given the privilege to finish his thought let alone his sentence. 

Just flooding your senses with the caramel salt of his scent, and his gobs of pearly seed. Every jackhammer has Geto pinpricking it on the back of your bruised and battered throat, every squeeze of his hand around your neck makes him drool out in wiry oodles of sap more and more and more-

“S’what you w-wanted, right?” And you’re sensing the way his scent tinged with something maddened, leaving your eyes popping. “Prancing around with your hah- p-pre-heat panties and your- fuck!” Geto fights to keep his eyes from flapping closed, “Take it- ohhhh take it all.”

As if you could do anything else.

Every tiny twitch leaves your cavern flooded. Geto was cumming so hard that it was overspilling from each crevice of your lips, a silvery waterfall of cum that he’s dabbing around a thumb to smear. 

Letting your pouted lips wobble at the fresh topping of white gloss, “There’s a good girl. My goood fuckin’ girl.” 

Oh, there’s no doubt in your fractured mind right now that Geto Suguru was an alpha. Inhaling his deep puffs of contentment, you’re arching your back mindlessly in delight. Throat loosening with the motions to-

“Don’t swallow.”

So mean. 

You don’t think you’re given the split-second to wonder otherwise before he’s grappling for the pretty column of your throat and kissing you raw. 

You’re gasping when his depraved tongue smacks down between the seam of your mouth to lather in every scorching hot mess of sap he’d left behind. The mess that he made. And he was only making it messier.

Watching you through barely-cracked open pupils while he scooped up the sticky webs of seed dangling from your mouth. Scratchy buds taking over. A kiss so filthy that you felt shy to even call it that. 

“Mmm—” Geto’s skidding his tongue down the buttered length of his lips, flicking over any stray droplets he could find. And something in his eyes told you that he was mere seconds away from doing it all over again. “Not bad for a first kiss.”

Fuck- what?

“Sugu- what-” You’re panting out measly syllables through the gaps of his sappy mouth. “I-I thought you’d be more…”

“What? A heh- bumbling loser?” His eyes narrow down at you, words purring sexily. “Oh, gorgeous…”

Fuck, and if the rasping growl in his tone didn’t shut you up, the way that Geto’s throwing you onto the bouncy bed sure does. 

He doesn’t have a care in the world, he doesn’t have a single thought other than ripping off your flimsy clothes. Everything but those very same cherry pink panties you’d teased up at him, well- more see-through than anything right now.

Kneeing apart your jittery legs to watch the way your cunt gushes in pure need. Lips curling into a leer at the way she winks up at him through filthy masses of slick.

“Sh-she’s mine now, isn’t she?” Rumbling out, eyes wide. Unfocused. And the look on Geto’s face made white-hot trills sprint down your spine - ones you couldn’t decode between primal need and fear. “She’s…”

Ptwah!

The vicious goblet of spit that hits you this time is somehow even meaner than the last, striking at the very top of your sobbing pussy and disappearing riiiight between your folds. 

“Mine.” Awestruck, Geto bullies one capped knee to smooch up against your slit. Gleaming his heated skin with the bucketloads of cute sap that you kept pouring out by the second. Geto was greedy, he was grunting. “Beg for it, omega.”

You’re squirming underneath him impatiently, clawing all over his unmoving wrists. You ached all over for something. Anything. “Don’t- don’t wanna-”

But Geto had ten times your strength and wasn’t afraid of using it. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of using it - wasn’t afraid of pinning down both your trembly hands on the bed springs with one of his. Rutting his knee up even more mercilessly, murking his pheromones until it burned of salt and spice. “Beg.”

You mewl, “P-please-”

“No stuttering.”

“Please.” And if that wasn’t enough, you’re batting your lacquered lashes up at Geto in exactly the way you knew was his weakness. Exactly the way that got you the second-highest GPA for so long. Jutting your back the perfect curvature off of the bed, “I’ll let you k-keep my panties, Suguru—?”

“Oh, giiiirl—” He husks out, leaning in so close to plant a yearning snog on your mouth. Blushing pink lips wrapping around your tongue and sucking. You always got what you wanted. “M’keeping those regardless.”

In his special drawer for all your slutty underwear, of course. 

And just as soon as Geto’s kissing your lips, he’s trekking his way downwards to make sure that your other ones don’t feel left out. 

“Look at her.” He breathes, words taking on an airy tone that makes him sound as if he was furious. Blistering with the anger that he’s been deprived of the heavenly proximity of your soft, seeping cunt for so long. “H-heh, if o-only those tch- popular friends of yours could see. Just look- look how wet she is f’me. All me.”

A fattened thumb fringes past your panties, and you flinch at the cold press of his silver rings. Rovering all the way to greet your puffy pussylips in languid drags uuuuup and down, pricking his manicured fingernail on the button of your clit. 

Geto’s hooded lids widen, heat rushing all over his cheeks at the sloppy squelches he draws out. So easily. Adorably.

And it was true - he did have a tattoo. A splashing inking of a dragon all across Geto’s muscled back, somehow making him even more unintentionally hotter. 

“And look how loud mmm–” He’s kissing the mound of your folds like a lover, lingering. Loving. Stealing deeeeep gasps of your scent, “M’gonna ruin you. Ngh- ohhh, m’gonna r-ruin you, gorgeous. Ruin ya for anyone else.”

And when Geto meant he was going to ruin you - he meant it.

“Shit.” He was going to mush his pretty features up into your sopping wet pussy until you could feel every minute, warm pant. Staring right up into the target of your fuzzy heart-eyes, “How do you- how do you taste so good.”

Every gasp he’s drinking in of your murked perfumed pheromones, showering ‘round every sense and making him dizzy.

“Squeeze- wanna feel-”

And maybe it’s his rut, maybe it’s the way your tension was so thick - but you instantaneously know what to do. 

To close your legs in a deadlock around Geto’s oily scalp. Your weighty eyelids bat up and down subconsciously at the attractive way he was digging his bulging biceps into the sides of your thighs. Pulling you in closer and closer and closer. “That turns you on, huh?”

But that wasn’t all- oh, that wasn’t what he was making out with your cute cunt and begging for. 

His mouth lathers over with a fresh bout of watery spit the moment your rubbery ring of muscle clench all around him. Making every ridge of his hot tongue catch on your gooey innards, the texture of it enough to drive you positively wild. 

“Sh-shiiit–” You’re letting out a primal groan, clawing at his tattooed back. Chest shuddering underneath the strain of one powerful hand pinning you down. Holding you painfully still. “Suguru- want more. More.”

Slipping his slick tongue in and out of your fluttery hole, Geto keens at the way your entrance kept on trying to suck him back in. 

“Fuckin’ know-” In one second, he’s pushing his cloudy glasses up his nose, and in the other he pries apart your puffed lips and caresses. “Yer turning into a fucking w-waterpark, dirty girl. Even wetter than all that p-porn I learned from…”

You’re whimpering, legs falling further n’ further open until it burned your inner quads. No matter how deeply Geto stuffed his face between them it just wouldn’t be enough.

It was almost as if…

“Heat.” He’s slurring a looong lap of his grooved tastebuds all over the lustre of your sweet, sweet juices. Free hand wrapping at his favorite position around your neck and making sure to angle your head so that you catch the twinkling droplets of slick pouring down his tongue. “You’re in heat, little omega.”

Gasping, “W-what?”

But it made sense. It was falling into place and that only made you wetter.

With a smirk, Geto swats your hands until they tangle into his silken tresses. “Lemme take care of you.” SWAT! The plapping sensation hits you before the realization that he’d run his crowned digits over to spank your perked clit. “Ngh- just sit tight n’ let your nerdy ol’ Sugu here take g-goood care of you.”

He was pleading with you - begging you - to latch onto his pretty locks and grind your pussy in repeated gyrations all over his face. Guiding him, using the hook of his pert nose as the perfect ridge to rest your throbbing clit on. 

“Th-thank you, alpha—” Too good. You were giving into something baser, to let your head loll into the cushy pillow behind you in sweeping motions. And it was so cute he could cum. 

“Yeah? Who- who?”

“You, Suguru.”

“Damn right.”

With every drag of his hoarse syllables, Geto was trawling his face across every inch between the beautiful legs that you had to offer.

Purposefully. 

You’re holding back his endless, inky strands just to admire how pretty he looked. How ravenous. Greedy. 

Fuck, Geto was making up for all these years he spent parched. Spitting out streak after streak of spittle that made your pussy pour out all over his snogging mouth. “Gonna- gonna fuck you like this w’my cock next.”

His tongue folds into your slobbery hole and slithers into every tender orifice - so staggeringly long that you were feeling a lump in your own throat. 

Just a few flops into your earliest magical spots and Geto could already hear the way you were fighting to hide your little sobs. 

“Th-this right here-” He’s probing a finger underneath the panties that stuck to your cunt like adhesive, letting it spring back to hit you with a smack! Tittering at your yelp, “S’mine.”

Rubbing a fat few crowns of his fingerpads at the tender area underneath the base of your pussy. Pressing down. Hard. “And her? All the w-way from here-”

Drawing sensual patterns up, up uuuup all the way to your sensitive clit, and oh- it felt so right to have him draw sultry little hearts on your weepy hood. 

Tugging it over to nip underneath one sharp canine - one that you swear had grown even longer in the last few minutes. Geto was gone in the depths of his rut, hallowing out his cheeks to eat you out as if he was a man starved. And you were his favorite dessert. “To here? S’mine, too.”

RIIIIIP—!

Through your glossy heaps of tears, you can make out the fuzzy shapes of Geto tearing your satiny underwear into tatters. Balling it up into a wad of sugarcoated fabric that he unapologetically stuffs in your drivelling mouth.

“Gonna add these t-to my collection.” You feel him smile against the outer edges of your claggy cunt, tittering at the stupid way your overspilling lips slacken with a soggy pwah! You’re hearing and feeling a long-winded woooosh from below once he takes a deeeep breath in with his over-delicate senses. “Th-thereeee we go. Cum all over my mouth, gorgeous.”

And if you were in any better state of mind perhaps you’d have noticed the way that Geto’s driving his hips into the bed like a damn dog when he sensed your scent peaking. Sensed you getting closer.

Ragged breaths striking your quivering pussy mercilessly and making your teeth sink desperately into the muggy jumble of underwear in your mouth. 

Your broken moans burst out even through that particular watergate, right along with a slithery trickle of saliva and a huff of “S-Suguru—” Craning your head to watch his nostrils flare with knowing, “Close- clo- cumming.”

Eyes flashing. Heart thumping not just within your rib cage.

When it rains, it pours. 

But you weren’t just pouring - you were flooding.

Such glutinous ropes of your orgasm, it sprays Geto’s sexy face in squirts. Clinging onto the edge of his glasses and forming little puddles right at the apples of his high cheeks.

Suddenly, you were oh-so-thankful for the way he’d stuffed your mouth mercilessly full - because by the rusted rasp in your throat, you’re sure you’re singing out shrill trills loud enough that his neighbors would file a noise complaint.

But that was the last thing on his mind.

The last thing- well, fuck, it wasn’t on his mind at all. Geto’s cooing at how unstable you feel, treacherous fingers mazing across your fat clit and giving her a goood few pushes just the way he would with his gameboys.

“Good girl-” he spits into your gapingly widened cunt, still suffering from the remnant tremors of your high and still slopping out wads of juices. Like a mantra, Geto’s dark brows scrunch in concentration, “Good girl good girl gooood fucking girl.”

Words hitching up into something shrill near the edge, he sounded as if he was fraying his sanity with every droplet of slick you pumped into his mouth. With every single second. 

Pushing his aching hot cock deeper and deeper into the sullied sheets. More. He needed more. 

Every sloppy swivel of your widely pried-apart pussy on his tongue made him leave an open-palmed smack! on your thigh. Other hand traipsing to pin your hips down with his big, vein-decorated forearm. 

He doesn’t want to let go.

You’re barely letting off a whine at the lack of friction before Geto lets his mouth depart from your cunt with a soggy pwah! Leaving a final few French kisses on his favorite sweet orifice, he’s pecking a loooong open-mouthed pathway up to your loosened maw.

“Good girl…” He hiccups, clammy forehead sticking against yours. Each syllable struggles to wrench past the leaden ball slowly forming on Geto’s mouth. 

The syrup-glazed lenses of his glasses clash into you, and Geto himself seems to notice. “Look what a fuckin’ mess ya made.” He’s gruffing out at the thick topping of oozing gloss that made the frame impossible to see through. 

Immediately pulling back a few millimeters to take them off and dump them on your own nose bridge. Unceremoniously. 

And it was so wet. 

Almost as wet as Geto’s features were - all showered in gunky dredges of glistening sap. It streaks all the way from his pointed chin and up to his handsome cheekbones. Beads of it hitting your panting chest in a pat! pat! pat!

Heaving out a shaky exhale, he’s pushing away a few elegant strands of charcoal bangs. 

“M’gonna…m’gonna fuck you now.” Sounding more as if he was talking to himself rather than you. Or perhaps both. Puffy folds being rubbed all raw with the depraved back and forth of his veiny under-shaft. “Gonna fuck you. So take it- take it.”

Geto stares deep into your whirling eyes while he sinks his hefty cock into you just as thoroughly. A clingy film sticks to his gaze, dazed and all half-hooded that you wondered if he could even register what was in front of him.

Crazed.

And he’s such a fucking tease, too. 

Creating a slimy trail of pasty pre all over your weakened inner thighs, he drags his bawling divot all over every stretch of your entrance. Around and around in circles. 

“B-big, huh? Better take it b-before I- make it- fit-” He’s echoing, dimples peaking out at the cute way your breath hitches once you feel the sheerly massive circumference of his fat tip. “Shhhh shh sh, s’alright- s’where you’re m-meant to ngh- be.”

Even for an alpha, he was always staggering - but having him stuffing you to the brim would be a whole other feeling. Would have you ruined. 

You’re peering up at him through humid lashes, borrowed glasses smearing wet splotches of slick underneath your skin. Eventually, those panties had found themselves spilling out of your unfastened jaw, “Meant to- hah! be?”

“Mhmmm— pretty omega.” You’re hit with a sudden wave of coaxing pheromones, the gentle salty breeze making your hips buck subconsciously upwards. Subconsciously aching. “This s’where you’re ngh- meant to be.”

And as much as Geto loved hearing whiny questions bubble their way up to your spit-layered lips, oh- was it so much more fun to eye down at your speechless self when he snugly squeezes just a mere sensual inch.

Leaning back to watch the way his bustling cock was stretching and stretching and stretching your tender walls flawlessly. You were taking him so ridiculously well. 

“Fuh-fuck you-” His plush pecs rumble with his bass from above, words tumbling. Hips rolling. And Geto was fucking gone- staring at you with wide, humorless eyes that you doubt were even seeing. “Fuck you- m’fucking you…fuck you fuck you fuck!”

With every sharp fah! being whirled into your loose mouth, Geto rubs his puffed-up veins into the tender mound of your cunt. You can’t help but count every rapid ba-dump—! his achy length throbs. 

Desperately. Rutting and rutting just to fit himself inside. 

Around the time he’s only halfway in, Geto circles one hand over his drenched base to skid taut O’s at the edge of your hole. Nudging his fat girth past your entrance and keening-

“M-more!” You’re barking out primally, your tongue tied into all sorts of bows and ribbons with the way this stretch was searing. And it was the best sort of tight fit, you were practically drooling all over again at the fleshy thwack! of Geto’s rounded balls smacking your thighs. “More, Sugu—”

“M-more…?”

It wasn’t just you - your luna needed more, too. 

You’re nodding and nodding- only to realize with a harsh muffle of Geto’s palm over your noisy mouth that he wasn’t even talking to you.

No, he was tittering away in a small sort of voice. Octaves higher. Strained. Goosebumps smatter all across your skin at the way he sounded so unstable. 

“More…” Irises flashing a glowy purple, fingers twitching where he held you. A loser like him. A nerd like him. “M-more she says.”

Fuck. 

Without another word - without another breath - Geto’s flipping you around with only one beefy palm clawing at your hip. Shoving your face deep into the puff of his nerdy pillows, he’s bottoming out with just one thrust-

You think you scream, you think you bawl once you feel his plummy mushroom head draw a long line of pre along the insides of your cervix. And your pussy felt so full you could burst, your walls crushed with all overpacked inches of his.

Finally. 

“Thaaaat’s it, that’s it-” He’s grunting through furiously clenched teeth, a hand crowning the back of your scalp and muffling your words into the bed. Hard. Fuck- he was going to pass out if you made another pretty sound. “S’where you belong.”

Ah, there it is - that little broken prayer.

Except, this time it was being respired in boiling hot pants against the tips of your ears. Was being wheezed out of Geto when he lurches his sweat-simmered hips back to hit your ass with a resounding pap!

“All f-fucked dumb on my ngh- biiig fucking cock, hm?” He tilts your head up with one hand, smiling to himself once he catches a glittery flash of spit leaking from your lips. “All…” A warm splatter! strikes your back, and only then do you realize that he’s slobbering. “Mine.”

And where Geto was talking all possessively - he was fucking you even more so.

In the blink of an eye, he’s planting two sets of fingers on either of your wrists and pulling all the way back, back, back. A length foot being placed right at the small of your spine to get you to bend in a delicious arch-

“Fuck!” Your cute voice rings hoarse, like music to his blushing ears. Struggling to regain the gasps of air leaving your lungs, “There- th-there.”

Oh, shit.

The way Geto was manhandling you was not only bending you in all sorts of lecherously pliable ways that had your slit dripping, it was making his rotund cockhead stub oh-so-viciously into your cervix. 

Rough. Probing. 

“H-heh, guess I lost my first kiss there, too.” He’s giggling out, biting down on the rugged mewls that threaten to depart every time your cunt swallows him whole. “Congrats on being my ngh- first, little omega— yer e-even better than my ngh- bodypillows of you.”

Bending you over ever-deeper, honestly- your walls were cloying onto him so desperately that it was making Geto’s heart pang with disappointment every time his ruddied tip recoiled back from the bottom of your sloppy pussy. 

He wanted to be this close to you forever. 

Treacling out stringy wads of pre, he’s furrowing brows and making sure each n’ every jackhammer fills you up impossibly. 

You can barely grapple for air at this point, the sloshes of syrup left after each barrelling strike leaving you star-struck. 

He grins, “Shit, d-do ya ever stop fuckin’ drooling? Gonna hafta call the f-fire department, girl.”

“Can’t help it–!” All you can do it let your mouth unlatch to warble whimper after whimper–

“C’mon now, gorgeous- aren’t ya ashamed?” Licking his lips free of your taste, Geto diverts more pressure to his foot. Hefty balls rippling wickedly against the sobbing end of your slit with just how easy you were to throw around like his favorite toy. Like his favorite figurines. “Look at what a mess yer making. Being fucked so f-filthy. And I haven’t even ngh- found it, yet.”

Haven’t found it. Oh, but he knew he was going to. He was going to make you scream.

Your syrupy whines slip into something desperate, “Y-you don’t know…?”

“Of course I f-fuckin’ know. Who d’ya think you’re ngh talking to?” As if you could forget you were being thoroughly pounded by the smartest person on campus right now. And evidently the filthiest, too. 

A ringed finger treks down to your sensitive nub, soothing over where you were throbbing the most violently. Cute. Lulling you into a sweet, sweet state of bliss before Geto pinches–

“Oh p-please!” You’re targeting your hazy vision over your shoulder, and somewhere along the lines Geto’s spectacles had slid cleanly off of you. Toes curling as his bloated head bludgeons just the creamy edges near your g-spot. “Please- y-you’re so close, Suguru-”

You didn’t know whether it was your heat or just Geto that had you so desperate. Your sparkless mind blames the latter.

“Am I?” He hums, leaning over so that the soft tendrils of his hair tickled your back. 

Whacking his painfully achy crownhead mere centimeters below your magical spots, and you’re starting to think he’s doing this on purpose. 

Geto starts holding it there for lingering French snogs into the steamy inner depths of your cunt and then you know he’s doing this on purpose. Spitting in your mouth with a smile. 

That mean bastard.

Jittering your hips to chase the texture of his curly pubic hair against your ass, he snickers. “Are you ngh- suuuure? You haven’t done a s-single one of your ngh- human biology essays lately, dirty girl.”

You’re molding your lips into a pout - difficult, with just how many loads of saliva were pouring out of you and cementing a puddle onto the Digimon pillows. “F-fuck you.”

“No…” You set free a gasp of air you didn’t know you were holding the very second he lets go of the rough foot anchoring your spine, instead- in only mere nanoseconds you find yourself jerked up into Geto Suguru’s hold with a hand at your throat. Back gluing against his glissading abs, even his voice was unbalanced and trembling now. “I’m fucking you, little omega.”

And you were about to remember it.

With an immediate pitch of his gasping breaths, Geto’s angled hips go from steadily ruined to sloppy. Calculated. 

He didn’t care if he made a mess of stringy slick that circled in the satiny sheets around the two of you, he didn’t care if your eyes were bulging out of their poor sockets when his pronounced hips dig into your backside with blistering bruises. 

He didn’t care for anything but digging the curled fringe of his fatly bloated tip right into the target of your g-spot. 

Mazing through your gluey folds and keeping them snugly open with his reddened girth, Geto knocks your sweetest spots with vengeance. 

“There–!” You call out, as if he hadn’t already felt the gooey seize of your pussy trying to hold him hostage. 

His mouth trudges over your throat, fingers roaming over to give your clit a nice few pinches. Meaningfully, “Here? Orrrr–” Punctuating each word, each second with a thorough drilling into your g-spot. “-here? Make up th-that ditzy lil’ mind. Seriously.”

Your head drunkenly crashes on top of his collarbone and stays there, “R-right here- there. Both, Sugu.”

“Again with the f-fucking Sugu-” Geto snarls out, though you can sense by his cloudy scent that he was anything but irritated with you. 

Your whines had quietened down into something more of an incoherent mess, and the main things ringing in Geto’s ears right now were the creaky protests of his bed and the clammy plops of his thrusts. 

“C’mon now— where’s my bossy fuck! omega? The one who loves her poor, nerdy Sugu?”

Arousal reaching a peak, and now that he’d found your g-spot, he was probing into it with fat thuds. Not just once or twice. Nooooo, it was over and over and- 

“Just w-wanna cum—” you’re sobbing out. Jerking your body like a bobble-head up and down to further feel the drag of his Herculean form behind you, to savor each ridge and sculpted curve sweatily massaging your back. “P-pleeeeease, Suguru. Let me cum?”

Swerving his tensing hips out alllll the way back to leave solid smooches ‘round your pussy entrance each and every time, and then there were the squelches-

Oh, you were just flooding a slippery sheen all over his hefty, swelling base. A viscid luster of slick that glided all the way down to drip off of his sack n’ between his legs. 

Your eyes manage to snatch themselves open- hissing at the realization that it was pooling especially around that particularly ballooned-up ring right over Geto’s breeder balls. 

Was that? With a shiver you’re rutting backwards, feeling for yourself the slow drag of his proud knot. Bigger than any else you’ve ever seen. It was. 

You rasp, throat itchy and raw. Sweltering droplets of tears streaming down your cheeks when he matches the stuttering beat of your heart with every pressurized push- “P-please.”

“Needy thing. Cum, huh?” Geto drawls out, voice thick with need and something else you were too stupid to register right now. He collides you even tighter against rippling pecs. Taking the sweet, sweet opportunity to poke his nose into your scent gland and steal a looooong breath of your overdriven pheromones. 

“Cum then, c-cum. Fucking cum all over my cock.”

Fuck, it’s with those exact words in mind that you do.

Startling straight headfirst into your high - and you don’t think you’ve even crashed into one wave of bliss before the other overtakes you. And another. And another-

“Oh g-god—” You’re trilling, only held up by the ruthless grip that Geto was maintaining. His hips were deep, and your pleasure even deeper. “-please. Please- please, Sugu-”

He’s hunching over your body ever-so-slightly, resting your thighs against his thick, flexing ones. Only bending you over to kiss your g-spot even more sinfully, Geto’s response comes out ragged into your lobes. “Tch, wh-what now?”

His ruby-red tip was blushing like a strawberry and just as plump - swirling around your treasure trove of spots, pounding you through each peak of your orgasm until you saw stars. 

“Cum i-insiiiide-” Your barely-audible groans spring out into the heady air, adding to its hypnotic mix of perfumes. And it’s not just the heat that made you crave Geto carnally, every pap! against the puffy ring at his base making you crave more more more- “Want it a-all up…”

You’re trailing off, melted mind unable to do multiple things at once. 

With tottering fingerpads, you’re trapping one of his palms underneath your own. Homing itself right above where his rounded tip was stretching open your insides, right above your womb.

“H-here, okay? Don’t miss-” 

You blink up at him and Geto thinks he might just be having a heart attack. Sparks fizzing around his sloshed brain, “Fuh-fuuuuck– don’t talk out of yer pussy, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit once. Twice just to watch your eyes glaze over stupidly. “Or m’gonna get you pregnant.” 

Soothing over that faint bulge he was fucking into your tummy, “Gonna h-have my baby growing allll up in here. Make you round and…” His voice sounds faint, whispering. “-big and…glowing. And…and pregnant.”

But, ah- you never did make it easy for him. Did you? Always had to have your way. 

Which Geto Suguru gladly gave. 

“But I want that, Sugu—” You pout, “Wan’ your knot…please?”

You didn’t have to say another word before Geto’s finishing off in such a messy way, reaching the biggest fucking orgasm he’s had in his entire life. The strongest. The most heavenly and oh- oh, were you an angel?

He’s collapsing onto the drenched sheets before he knows it, pinning you down with the strong v-line of his hips. 

“Shit-” Geto emits through the cracks in his bitten canines. “Shit shit shit- shit-”

You don’t know who’s losing their mind more, you or him. Falling into the well of a second, third, perhaps even fourth orgasm with how blissfully his fattened, split-ended cock bruised every nook of your adhesive-like walls. 

Your saliva cascades in puddles that soak the pillows through. “Suguruuu— a-are you okay-”

“Do I look okay?”

Sexily ridged abs kneading your back, hands scrambling on the mattress, inked shoulders shivering. His swollen knot hits and hits your pussymound. 

And it’s only once his trembly fingers latch around his glasses - fumbling, dropping it copious times before Geto manages to push them haphazardly onto his face. 

Tilting his head back just enough degrees to watch as the curved fringe of his knot disappears past your puffy folds. 

“There we- there…” He’s driveling clingy wads of translucent saliva, letting the stray pouring excess hit your fluttering hole with a splat! One eager thumb of Geto’s hooks into your entrance and bullies it aside to let his incredible perimeter sink iiiiiiiiin-

He’s melting into you now, spent. Ruined. “Get pregnant.” Geto whispers into your sweat-glossed shoulder blade once he feels the back of his knot get fully enveloped into your pussy with a gummy pop! Once he feels himself finally tip over- “Get pregnant.”

And it’s not just mindless babbling - it’s a promise. 

A promise that he rasps out time and time against with every wadded slip of seed that dollops out across your cervix. Pushing it so deep. Smearing acres of ribbony streaks all over your most precious orifices and spots. 

“Gonna know wh-what we did.” Geto whimpers, shit- he couldn’t pound his voluminous ounces of cum into you as aggressively as he wanted with this damn knot. “Entire campus. Professors. Everyone’s gonna know ngh- how I fucked ya full. F-fucked you pregnant. Gonna wonder.”

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

That didn’t stop him from wrenching out a hand to squeeze the ends of your sopping wet slit, forcing down on his very knot. Squeezing out so many numerous dredges of syrupy white cum that thwack! thwack! thwacks! a filthy second skin against your walls. 

“Fuh-fuuuuck— get pregnant, gorgeous.” He’s rutting. Grinding. Humping you like some beast more than man. “Gonna l-look at you all round n’ big and see me- me me me. Get pregnant get pregnant get-” 

Geto’s mouth parts at the pearly dewdrops of seed that leak from the overstuffed ends of your cunt. He can feel his entire body twitch, can feel his sharpened teeth lacquer so rabidly. 

He still wasn’t done.

Still letting one prespired forearm of his dangle around your neck, manhandling you into a fucking headlock. The other tracing the edges of his digits over your glands, squeezing until your skin was all tender and raw. 

And puffy. 

Perfect for him to tilt his head and bite—

“Ohhh- yes!” Every fibre of your being delights at the way Geto’s biting you so hard that you can smell crimson iron. Your pheromone bubble pops! to mix together with his own. Becoming one. And you can scent him - you can feel him. 

Glasses clashing, teeth tearing. Before you know it, you’re doing the same. “Suguruuuu— m’yours.”

Your mate latches onto the curves of your hips - your soon-to-be birthing hips. 

And the way Geto rediscovers that - tucking his face into the ruined, drenched fabric of those cherry pink panties and taking an endless, husky sniff - tells you that this was going to be a long, loooong night. 

“Mine.”

A/N. MMMMMMMMM NERD GETOOOOOOOO

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[hotroadkill]

today 2 years ago i was in america and i had the worst hangover of my life and i was in a waffle house with my friend in awkward silence bc we’d fought in a stranger’s kitchen the night before and the server refilled my water for the 5th time while i fought to swallow half a forkful of hashbrowns and she said “i know that look, y’all had a good time at the superbowl last night” and i was thinking actually we had a mediocre time at a nerd bar where u throw darts and all the drinks r named weird things and anyway my friend gives the fakest laugh ive ever heard followed by “yep we sure did” like are we in a CW show right now what was that line delivery and also what even is the superbowl i was born here and should know but honestly i’ve always just pictured everyone gathering at a comically large bowl of cereal but her nametag says leslie and she’s really nice and she’s refilling my water for the 6th time so yeah sure whatever i’m a red blooded american i’ll be anything for leslie in this moment and she tells us stories about working at bars downtown and my friend tells me bad jokes and i feel a little better even though my heart is kind of withering away because my flight is in 17 hours and theres not enough time never enough time i won’t see him for another year and a half and i won’t ever see leslie again and if i ever run into the italian stranger who fell in love with me over darts then it won’t be the same because we won’t be dancing and i’m sitting in a waffle house while the sun sets and i’m sweating gin and tequila and my flight is in 16 hours and i have so many goodbyes to say in this

city because when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out much less back together but i feel like ive been trying for eight years all the same and my flight is in 15 hours but maybe if my friend brings me home now i can spend three of those looking for more shards even though i’ll cut my hand because time never wore down any of the hurt because time might heal wounds but it cant really do jack shit about a metaphysical glass shard its still gonna make me bleed and my friend brings me home and we curl up beside each other in my childhood bedroom thats too small for us it was really a supply room but it became my bedroom when i was eleven and i painted it blue and put up stickers of fish and never took them down but someone someday will take them down and hopefully the house burns to the ground before anyone can touch them theyre mine i grew up here theyre mine dont touch them dont please dont please please please i grew up here and my flight is in 12 hours now because i fell asleep beside my friend and he let me because he knew i needed it he kept watch even though we dont have time we never do because he has to go now and all i can give him is a hug and my hoodie to keep safe until i can see him again and fight him in a stranger’s kitchen again and the sun is gone now and i go and i sit with my dad and my flight is in 10 hours and im trying

not to cry im trying to stare at the stickers because maybe if i look at all of it hard enough i’ll get to stay but i dont because thats not how it works and now my flight is in 4 hours because i fell asleep in my childhood loft bed and now i have to leave i have to pack up and go for the fifth time and it never never gets easier and i know i only have a few more trips left until someone takes my stickers down and paints over my ocean but for now my best friend’s stepmother comes with me and my dad to the airport because my best friend is in college two states away and my flight is in 3 hours and i cry i cry so much and she cries too because she loves me and i think it is such a beautiful blessed thing that i am so loved but oh it is so painful too because i spend more time in its absence than its presence and my flight is in 2 hours and i have to go and my dad is waving goodbye and i see it because i looked back because im stupid i always look back i never look forward i’m forever walking blind through my life because i’m looking back and i can tell my dad is crying and now i have to go through TSA sobbing and it’s awkward because they ask are you okay kid and im not but i cant tell them sorry its just that when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out i cant tell them that so i nod yes im okay and i go and my flight is in 1 hour and i hope it fucking crashes and my flight is in the air and im so far away from all those shards on the kitchen floor now but they’re hurting me all the same and i think i look kind of insane sobbing in the middle seat but how can i miss so many people and so many rooms at once and not lose my mind a little bit? i was going to tell you a short witty little joke about the time i realized i was 21 and didnt know what the superbowl was but i think i slipped on a shard. i’m sorry. maybe next time i’ll get it right. maybe in another two years. maybe you’ll never see me again. maybe this is all the time we had.

[elkkiel]

This is a tumblr hug. (✿づ◠‿◠)づ Pass this to your favorite blogs to let them know that you love them or simply accept the love given to you! ♥◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜♥

you'd cheddar believe you're the apple of my eye, and I think we'd brie the perfect pear! parmesan or something 🩷🩷

[muniimyg]

BED CHEM // JJK

♡ extra: manifest that you're oversized

series m.list // taglist unavailable

warnings: smol argument (slight angst), jk and oc ignore each other for a few days,,, smut ! somewhat virgin au... jk guides oc and oc is unsure but curious the entire time !!! very domestic of them :') ,,, jk eats her out, jk lives out a fantasy and face fucks oc, oc tries cowgirl for the first time & jk takes over in the end lol. raw sex, both of them orgasm & get all mushy in the end <3

note: oh my gawd this smut took me so long to write . tmi one of the side effects of my meds is a lower sex drive so i haven't been in the headspace for this ,, i'm so happy i got around to it. obviously it's not perfect or even close to what i envisioned for them ,, but i also think that's what makes them so hehe haha .

enj !

//

tuesdays are never good. 

jungkook decided this a long time ago. tuesdays are always the busiest—the most inconvenient and the longest. worst of all, with all of tuesday’s chaos—it means no you. 

that’s what jungkook hates the most. 

days without you. 

but today is an anomaly.

a breath above water.

a break.

his lab professor extended their assignment deadline. his afternoon class got canceled. shit, jungkook even hit a new personal record at the gym. 

not to mention that the weather isn’t miserable. for once, april isn’t pouring rain. instead, the sky is blue and the sunshines almost as brightly as you. currently, he’s on his way to surprise you with a matcha latte from your favorite cafe. which, was difficult for him to do. 

“one iced matcha with oat milk and less ice please.” 

god, it sounded so insufferable coming from his mouth… but it’s whatever. he’d do anything for you. you two have been together for almost one year and he’s utterly in love with you… he just hasn’t said it yet. 

you talked about it every now and then… how your favourite moments with him are the ones where he initiates seeing you. ever since you verbalized that, he’s been keeping a list of random things he could do in his notes app. though it’s a small act, getting you a surprise matcha is on the top of his list. 

your class should be ending right about now.

he timed his matcha gesture perfectly. 

and it is, because just as he rounds the corner, he sees you walking out of the building. surrounded by a group of people. jungkook snickers under his breath. of course. you’d never just walk out alone like a normal person. you always have an entire entourage.

as everyone disperses, he reaches for his phone.

nerd [11:45AM]: so popular nerd [11:45AM]: u have time for ur bf or what ? yn [11:47AM]: it’s tuesday :(  yn [11:48AM]: tuesday takes my handsome man away </3  nerd [11:48AM]: not today. i fought a few dragons, sailed across the 7 seas and crawled my way to u n shit  yn [11:49AM]: HAHAHAA yn [11:49AM]: wtf are u on  yn [11:49AM]: i’ll call u tn. focus on ur day. miss u :p  nerd [11:48AM]: turn around dummy  seen

he watches as you put your phone away and stretch your neck, scanning the area for him.

jungkook’s chest swells. but before your eyes land on him, someone else beats him to you. some guy—who jungkook assumes is a classmate—runs up from behind, surprising you.

you let out a playful scream, throwing your arms up as the guy engulfs you in a hug. and then—fucking then—he lifts you off the ground and twirls you around.

right then and there, jungkook feels his blood pressure skyrocket. irritation creeps up his spine, jealousy curling in his chest like a tightening fist. the guy sets you down, and you scan the area again. this time, your eyes find his. you brighten, beaming at him, and then—you point. 

to him. 

to jungkook. 

your boyfriend. 

and the guy follows your gaze, lifting a hand in acknowledgment. jungkook barely raises a hand back. 

half-assed. 

dismissive. 

unimpressed.

then, as if his patience wasn’t already paper-thin, the guy pulls you in for another hug before saying goodbye. jungkook rolls his eyes as you do this. just as he shifts his feet to close the distance, you’re already halfway to him.

you tilt your head, pouting. 

“hi baby—oh my god. is that for me?”

his gaze flickers to the iced matcha latte in his hand. 

then back to you.

before he can answer, you’re already leaning in, wrapping your lips around the straw and taking a long sip—right from the drink he’s still holding. he watches as your throat bobs, as you hum in satisfaction, as your fingers brush against his wrist.

without a word, he reaches over, slipping the tote bag off your shoulder and swinging it over his own. it’s muscle memory at this point. second nature, the way he carries your things like they’re his.

you tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. he turns at the last second, catching your lips instead. you giggle, and like always, your fingers intertwine with his, your free hand still gripping the matcha latte. 

suddenly and then all at once, jungkook can’t help but notice how pretty you are. 

just like that, his mood begins to fade. 

“how was class?”

“boring.” you frown. “i hate elective classes. they’re so extra for no reason. aren’t they supposed to be gpa boosters? what the heck are they doing assigning me exams and group projects? it’s painful.”

“it may be painful, but that doesn’t give you the excuse to be attempting to sext me during class.”

you glare at him. 

“it’s really annoying that you’re a nerd and actually care about my learning.”

“right,” he huffs. “i’m a shitty boyfriend.”

“you are,” you agree easily.

silence follows. 

but it’s not uncomfortable.

after a beat, you exhale. “oh, the guy earlier—he’s my first friend from first year. he just transferred, and his transcript has been all over the place. but he just found out his credits got accepted, so he doesn’t have to retake a class. fuck, i’ve been stressing for him all week.”

jungkook glances at you, voice softer now. “you shouldn’t stress over things that aren’t yours to stress about.”

“but he’s my friend. am i not allowed to care—”

“that’s not what i meant,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “you know that.”

you hold his gaze, the fight dying in your throat. you let it go.

“also…” you hesitate. “he invited me to his party on saturday. it’s a costume party.”

jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes. “who throws a costume party in the middle of april?”

“the entire class is going.”

“okay,” jungkook says with a plain tone. “so what?”

“what do you mean so what?” you huff, stopping in your tracks to face him. “what’s with your mood?”

jungkook clenches his jaw. he doesn’t know. today was good—until he saw that guy hug you. “i don’t know,” he exhales. “sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to—”

“forgiven.”

he blinks. “that easy?”

“yes, because you’re coming to the party and you’re dressing up.”

he scoffs. “no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“i don’t do costumes.”

“well, you do now.”

he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “babe—”

“don’t babe me.”

“i have a meeting with the dean about the marine conservation club and our potential donners. i’m not going to that stupid party and i was hoping you’d accompany me to my thing.”

you pause. 

“you decided that for me?” you ask. 

jungkook sighs. “i never said that. i said i was hoping you’d accompany me.”

“but you can decide right off the bat that you aren’t going to my thing because it’s not your crowd and it’s not important to you.” 

he stares at you. 

you glare at him. “newsflash, jungkook… i don’t give a shit about dolphins, but i do care about you. but there’s no way i’m going to your meeting with the dean to be your arm candy if you’re acting like this over a harmless costume party—” 

“that’s hosted by some guy who clearly wants to fuck you.”

his words come out faster than his thoughts to filter them. he knows how you’re going to react. he knows he’s digging himself a grave right now… but a part of him doesn’t care. he’s upset. he should have the right to express his feelings and the reality of the situation. 

your mouth falls open. 

“what?”

he huffs a humorless laugh. “come on, baby… you really don’t see it?”

“see what?” you furrow your brows. 

“he’s into you.”

you stare at him, brows furrowing. “jungkook, he’s my friend.”

“yeah? and how many of your ‘friends’ have tried to get with you? be honest with me… he at least had a thing for you, didn’t he?”

anger rises in your chest. “that’s not fair.”

“what isn’t fair? the truth?”

you gawk at him. “so what, you don’t trust me?”

“of course i trust you.” jungkook exhales sharply, looking away. he’s beyond frustrated at this point… and so are you. “i just don’t trust him.”

“holy shit, jungkook.” you shake your head, throwing your hands up. “it’s just a party. you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

he doesn’t respond, jaw set, eyes fixed on the pavement.

“it’s stupid,” he breathes. “i’m not going. i don’t want you to go either, if i’m being completely honest.”

your face drops. 

you don’t mind the honesty… you hate the audacity. 

“you know what?” you walk forward and turn to him. with a final defeated breath, you tell him; “text me when you pick me over your stupid dolphins.”

then, just like that, you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him standing there, fists clenched at his sides. jungkook watches as you shove the matcha latte into the nearest trash bin and storm off towards the direction of your home. 

his feet feel glued to the ground for some reason. 

the rational thing to do is run after you, apologize, and make up with you… but instead, he sulks. jungkook turns the other direction, choosing to be a complete idiot.

you don’t text him that night. 

you don’t call him the next morning, either.

jungkook doesn’t reach out, but you catch him viewing your stories, and liking your tiktok reposts. 

he lingers closely when you hang out with the guys throughout the week. like maybe he’ll say something. like maybe he’ll tap your shoulder and ask if you still want him to come. but he doesn’t.

you bump into him around campus once. 

you pass each other—his eyes flick to yours, but you look past him. not out of malice. you just don’t have the energy for his half-hearted apologies or defensive silences. you don’t want him to say sorry because you asked him to. you want him to say sorry because he means it. 

when thursday passes with no message, you wonder if he’s really not coming.

you wonder if he’ll just let this linger, like it doesn’t matter.

you go shopping with your friends on friday. pick out a costume that’s just silly enough to make you feel like yourself. 

then it’s saturday.

and you still haven’t heard from him.

the party is lame. 

you hate to admit it, but maybe jungkook was right. costumes in the middle of spring? it just doesn’t feel right. regardless, you're laughing at a story you’re only half-listening to.

you’re having fun. 

you swear.

you’ve been having fun for the past two hours. smiling, mingling, keeping the energy light… but your phone’s screen is a little too smudged from checking it every ten minutes.

no texts.

you open instagram. he watched your story.

you close it again.

you’re mid-sip when someone bumps your side—not too hard, just enough to jostle the drink. you turn instinctively, lips parting to apologize, when you see him.

jungkook.

in his marine conservation blazer, white shirt crisp under the low light. tie loosened, hair pushed back like he’s been running his hand through it all night.

and on his head?

tiger ears.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just stands there beside you like he’s been there the whole time. then he glances down at you, voice low and casual.

“you waiting for your shitty boyfriend to text you?”

you blink at him.

“you’re a tiger.”

he nods. “roar.”

you snort. “do they even roar?”

he rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile. then he shifts, turning to face you properly. his hands find your waist without question, like that’s still his place. like you’re still his.

his voice softens. 

“they roar. and they say sorry.”

you look at him.

"sorry," he adds. his brows are furrow just a little, like he means it. like he’s been thinking about it all night. like the headband was his way of saying i miss you in the dumbest way possible.

you reach up, adjust one of the ears so it’s standing upright again.

“well... you look stupid.”

“you like it.”

“unfortunately.”

he presses his forehead to yours, sighs quietly. you glance at the headband again, then back at him. he’s fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt, refusing to meet your eyes. for once, jungkook looks nervous. 

you soften.

“you didn’t have to come. we would've worked it out regardless.”

“i know,” he says quietly. “and i would’ve been here faster but the dolphins…”

“those damn dolphins,” you laugh. 

he joins you. 

then, a beat.

then he lifts his gaze, eyes meeting yours for the first time in days.

“i wanted to come,” he confesses. “i want to be wherever you are.”

and just like that, the fight breaks into dust.

you step closer, close enough to touch. your hand brushes his. he doesn’t move, but his pinky curls around yours like muscle memory.

you don’t talk about the argument. you don’t ask if he’s sorry. you don’t need to.

you lean in, voice lower now.

“one dance. and then we go.”

he rolls his eyes, but there’s the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “just one?”

“two.”

“three.”

the door clicks shut behind you.

you kick your shoes off with more force than necessary and drop your bag somewhere near the wall. jungkook follows behind, slower, undoing the top button of his shirt as he steps inside.

the silence isn’t uncomfortable. just thick. waiting to be cut. so here you two are—ripping the bandaid off.

you turn to face him.

“you were a dick.”

he nods. “i know.”

“and jealous. for no reason.”

another nod. “i know that, too.”

you cross your arms. “so?”

“so…” he sighs, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt like he needs something to fidget with. “i got in my head. and then i got mad about being in my head. and then i made it your problem. i'm sorry i said all that. but also, i don't think i'm wrong to feel intimidated by him. he's someone from your past.”

you watch him. you don’t say anything.

he finally meets your gaze.

“i trust you,” he says, voice quieter now. “i do. i just… get scared sometimes. that someone else will be better. smarter. funnier. more patient with me when i’m acting like a five-year-old.”

you blink at him. “you’re not five.”

he snorts under his breath.

“you’re like… seven. max.”

he huffs a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.

“i should have considered why it could have made you feel uncomfortable. shit, you gave up tutoring just because for me... although you could have said it in a nicer way, i understand where you were coming from... and not to mention... you’re the smartest person i know,” you say with no hesitation. “i’ve never met a bigger nerd than you. i wouldn't worry about me dumping you for an even bigger nerd. don't think i could handle more nerdology behaviour.”

jungkook cracks a smile.

still, he huffs in frustration and tsks. “i… i just didn’t want to lose you over something dumb. i hate messing things up with you,” he murmurs.

you step toward him, hands slipping under his blazer, palms resting against his chest. 

“you aren't messing anything up.”

his hand covers yours. his eyes flick between yours.

“i'm really trying, ___. i swear.”

you nod, smiling sweetly at him. “you did good tonight.”

“the ears?”

“the ears.” you smile. “very charming.”

he leans in slightly, voice lower. “wanna pet me?”

“maybe later.”

jungkook rolls his eyes before dipping his head low. he kisses you for the first time in so long and literally feels his heartache dissolve. you reach over his neck and kiss him with more passion. then, when you pull away, you murmur; “i’m sorry i wasn’t very patient. can you and the dolphins ever forgive me?”

“forgiven.”

kiss. 

“that easy?”

kiss. 

“you’re too pretty to stay mad at.”

jungkook is laid back against his pillows, hands planted lightly on your thighs like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to grip you tighter yet.

you’re straddling his lap, your fingers curled into the open collar of his shirt, your lips pressed to his like you’re trying to memorize the shape of him again. like you need him to know: i missed you.

his mouth moves under yours—eager, but letting you set the rhythm.

you pull back just a little, your breath shallow. “we were really mad at each other. didn’t even text.”

his eyes open slowly. “yeah,” he murmurs. “i hated it.”

you lean down, kissing the corner of his mouth. “me too.”

before he knows it, your fingers make their way to the buttons of his shirt. you begin to unbutton them, one by one. his breath shakes. this is only the third time you two have ever had sex… the first time you’ve ever initiated it, too. the first few times you two have had sex, it’s always been a little slow and soft. he’s always been sure to make it as easy as possible for you because, in your words, it feels weird. 

you like it, of course. 

it’s just different. losing your virginity recently to him is a completely new experience. in all honesty, he’s done everything right so far. jungkook is always so gentle and caring. but something about the way you look at him right now tells him that maybe… tonight that isn’t what you want. maybe, you don’t want gentle. 

you want him… 

hard. messy. hot. 

“can you take this off?”

jungkook freezes. 

then, his hand slides up your waist, thumb brushing under your shirt. “you’re sure? we don’t have to.”

he wants you to be sure. he wants you to know that sex is always in your control and that you get to have it your way. to finish your way… to start? this is new. it makes him nervous too… but excited more than ever. 

your reply is barely a whisper. 

“kiss me again.”

and so he does. 

slower this time. 

deeper. 

one hand cups the back of your head, the other squeezing your hip like he’s finally letting himself touch you the way he wants to. the kiss grows hotter, messier—your teeth graze his lip, and he exhales a shaky breath through his nose like he’s barely holding it together.

“fuck,” he whispers. “missed you so much.”

you smile against his mouth. “good.”

jungkook is buried between your legs. 

he kisses your thighs slowly, slightly lifting his head up for air. then, he reaches over to your hips and palms them, pressing some pressure. without warning, he dips his head low and begins to eat you out again. 

his tongue flickers back and forth, fast and messy. he digs his nose in as he sucks your clit and pulls away. he takes his time, flattening his tongue against your clit. your toes curl, your head throws back, and your stomach tightens as the feeling. 

“d-don’t laugh at m-me, okay?” you stutter.

he lifts his head. 

“what’s wrong?”

“i… i t-think i might pee,” you pant. “i don’t wanna pee.”

jungkook chuckles, not mocking, just warmly. 

“you’re not gonna. promise.”

your eyebrows furrow. “but what if i do? that’s so gross.”

“do you want me to stop?”

you nod. 

“sorry.”

jungkook shakes his head and reaches over to kiss your forehead. “don’t apologize. let’s do what you want and what makes you feel good, okay?”

you swallow. 

“w-what do you wanna do?” you ask him shyly. jungkook breathes you in, resting hs body on top of yours. like second nature, you wrap your arms around him and hold him close. he trails kisses on your neck as you murmur; “i wanna do something for you too.” 

he smiles against your skin. 

“we don’t have to do anything,” he tells you honestly. “we can just go to sleep—”

“do you wanna fuck my face?”

his breath hitches. 

“uhm…” jungkook shifts and chases your eyes. you stare into his eyes and smile warmly. “w-what?”

you shrug. 

“i wanna try it,” you confess. “and you mentioned it once jokingly… why not, right?” 

he blinks at you. 

before he can register this, you shift and slide lower down the bed. he lifts his body, following your lead and positioning himself. jungkook kneels over you, straddling your chest. his knees are on either side of your body with one hand on the headboard for balance… the other cradles your cheek, thumb swiping your puffy lips. 

“if it’s too much—”

“i wanna take it,” you pout. “manifested for you to be oversized. this is me facing my consequence.” 

that’s all it takes 

as jungkook tilts his head with a playful smirk, he shoves his heavy cock inside your pretty mouth. he shifts his hips forward slowly, sinking himself deeper inside your mouth. 

“too deep?” he asks, fingers brushing your hair back. 

you shake your head, eyes watery but committed. 

shakily, he lets out a deep and wrecked groan. he drags his cock out, bringing the tip to your lips to play with. you swirl your tongue around it, playing with his slit. he inhales sharply before you part your lips for him to thrust himself back in again. jungkook then slides his hand to cup the back of your head, lifting you just a bit for a better angle. the slight move causes you to gag around him. 

his stomach sinks. 

he pauses instantly. 

“you okay?”

you blink twice at him and begin to suck him off. jungkook throws his head back, moving in slow and shallow thrusts. he tests the waters, as the headboard begins to creak. 

“god,” he moans. “look at you, baby… taking me so well. i’m so fucking proud of you.”

then, his pace gets a little rougher. his hips roll forward with more intent, but his hand stays gentle on your head. he doesn’t force you to take more. when you moan around him, your nails begin to dig into his thighs. 

“shit—baby,” jungkook begins to lose his breath. “say something… gonna cum just like this.”

you pull off for air. 

“you can… if you want.”

jungkook hisses. “you can’t say shit like that.”

then, he leans over you, bracing both hands against the headboard now. he cages you in. his abs flex with each thrust, and the view of him above you—eyes wide, flushed chest heaving—is seared into your memory forever.

god, he’s so handsome. 

you keep your hands on his thighs, letting him set the pace. he watches you the entire time, making sure you’re doing okay. it backfires, though because all he can notice is how your mouth stretches around him. how your eyebrows furrow and how your eyes flutter shut like you enjoy this.

spoiler: you do enjoy this. 

then, he feels his body tighten. 

he knows the feeling all too well. 

without warning, he pulls himself out and with a groan—drops down to kiss you. 

“gonna stop,” he pants. “gotta be inside you when i finish.”

you let out a laugh against his lips. “okay,” you agree. “want you to finish inside me too.” 

with that, you feel your legs tremble when he pulls you upright. he kisses you slow and settles back against the pillows. his cock is angry, twitching between his thighs. jungkook pulls you into his lap. 

you hesitate a little, as you swing a leg over. your knees rest on either sides of him. his eyes flicker to the way your hands hover above his chest. you look unsure… but also desperate. he can’t fight with that. 

“what do you wanna do?” he asks gently, fingers tracing your thighs. 

“wanna ride you,” you say shyly. “like cowgirl… b-but—”

“you don’t know how?”

“i’m gonna look stupid.”

he rolls his eyes at you. “not possible.”

jungkook leans in, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “take your time with it. you’re in control. i’ll help you figure it out, okay? do what you want. i’m all yours, baby.”

with that, he lies back as you grab the base of his cock rather awkwardly. you lower yourself down slowly. sinking inch by inch, you gasp. 

“sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” he reassures you, as he reaches over and helps you line himself up. “here, like this.”

jungkook holds himself still while you slowly sink down. your hands are planted on his chest, steadying yourself. he groans as he feels your tight pussy clench. his hands grip your hips tightly. you let out a shaky breath in response. 

you both pause when once you realize you’ve taken him in fully. 

you catch your breath as his hands soothe up and down your sides. 

“f-fuck.”

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you nod, taking a deep breath in. “just… big.”

jungkook chuckles, leaning in for a kiss. “your fault.”

you let out a small laugh as he rubs circles on your hips. you adjust, locking eyes with his. 

“should i move now?”

he blinks at you. “yeah. try rocking your hips. you don’t have to bounce or anything—just move how you feel.”

you nod and try it.

it’s awkward at first, but his hands guide you. soon enough, you’re rolling your hips against his. the slow grind of your bodies both make you moan. you feel his cock harden inside you, and the sharpness is something you never expected to love so much. it feels so good. jungkook’s head lolls forward, kissing your breasts and then your neck. 

he’s breathless. 

“that’s it,” he praises. “good girl… you’re so perfect, baby.”

you lean in to kiss him. then, you pick up your pace. you roll your hips forward, grinding and humping him however your body wants to. he’s biting his bottom lip as your movements quicken and you begin to feel tingling in the pit of your stomach. you chase the feeling by riding him harder. soon, you begin to let out breathey moans. 

“ohh,” you almost cry. “f-fuck. oh my god…” 

“that’s it,” jungkook moans. “shit. just like that.”

you fuck him harder. 

jungkook slaps your ass and you let out a whimper. as you two fuck, you begin to feel the pressure of it all weigh in on you. for some reason, as you look at him, you can’t help but pant and want more of this insane feeling. 

“look at you,” he hisses. “you’re doing it, baby. fuck. you’re riding me.”

before you know it, you’re whimpering. 

your grinding gets lazier but the high is still there. you’re out of breath, sweaty and tired. you’re still moving in his lap, but your thighs are burning. he looks up at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. 

(he hasn’t)

“you okay?”

you give him a small breathless nod. even before you tell him with words, jungkook pulls himself out and reaches over to you. he checks in you. 

“everything okay?”

again, you nod but your rhythm falters. your legs shake a little as you try to lift yourself and sink again. you whimper, frusterated at yourself. 

“sorry—”

“hey,” jungkook murmurs, quickly sitting up. he kisses your forehead. “you’re doing so good. nothing to be sorry about.”

“i think my legs are giving out,” you murmur, nuzzling into the side of his neck. “but don’t wanna stop.”

he chuckles, running his hands up and down your back. jungkook kisses your jaw. “lay back for me?”

before you can even answer, he shifts—scooping an arm under your knees and the other behind your back, rolling the both of you with practiced ease until you’re lying against his chest, back to his front.

“this okay?” he asks, lips brushing your ear. 

you nod quickly, already breathless as he hooks your thighs over his, keeping you wide open while he stays deep inside you. his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you in tighter, grounding you completely.

he starts to thrust again—slow, deep rolls of his hips that push into you from underneath, the angle making you whimper. your head tilts back onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you melt into him, letting him do the work.

jungkook fucks you like this for a while. you focus on your breathing and the feeling of him inside you. all your thoughts and efforts crumble when he places his hand over your pussy and begins to play with your clit. 

“j-jungkook… i can’t—”

“you can.”

“i’m gonna—nghhh…. oh my g-god. jungkook!” 

your body starts to tremble, back pressed flush against his chest, every nerve ending alive as he keeps grinding into you from beneath.

his arms stay locked around your waist, one hand splayed over your stomach, holding you still while the other toys with your clit—soft, steady strokes that match the rhythm of his hips.

“fuck—” you gasp. “jungkook—i think—i’m gonna—”

“i know, baby,” he whispers, his voice shaky but so sweet. “you’re close, yeah? it’s okay.”

his mouth is right at your ear, so gentle despite how deep he is inside you.

“breathe through it,” he hisses. “i feel your pussy tightening. you’re gonan cum soon and your instict is to hold your breath—don’t. i want you to breathe through it. want you to feel it all, okay? can you be a good girl and do that for me, baby?” 

you whimper. 

“uh... mhmmm... shit, shit, shit! nghh… i… i’ll try.”

jungkook fucks himself inside you deeper and harder. you hold your breath as you take him in, and then shut your eyes to exhale. 

you breathe through your nose, trying to focus on his request. 

and when you do—your body curling forward, a desperate whimper falling from your lips—he wraps you tighter in his arms, guiding you through it with slow, grounding thrusts, his hand not leaving your clit until you're twitching and whining from the overstimulation.

you cream his cock. 

“you’re so perfect,” he breathes, kissing the side of your neck. “you did so good for me. so fucking good.”

you’re still catching your breath when he carefully lifts you off, laying you back down on the pillows.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing your hair from your face.

you nod, dazed, your skin flushed and glowing. he kisses your forehead.

“gonna finish, yeah?” he whispers. “just wanna be close.”

and then he’s sliding back in—slow and deep—his body over yours, elbows tucked beside your head as he holds himself up just enough to look at you.

“feels so good,” he moans, dropping a kiss to your cheek. “so warm.”

your hands trail up his back, pulling him in. his movements are less frantic now, more like he’s savoring it—each roll of his hips drawn out, every kiss messy and sweet.

“look at me,” he whispers, foreheads touching. “wanna see you when i cum.”

and when he does—hips stuttering, a low groan leaving his throat—you kiss him through it, soft and open-mouthed, your fingers carding through his hair as he falls apart right there, with you.

his whole body trembles, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t leave. just stays wrapped around you, breathing hard, kissing your lips again and again like he doesn’t want to let you go.

just like that, jungkook cums inside you—filling your pussy up with every ounce of himself. 

you’re draped over him like a blanket, one leg tossed over his hips, face tucked into the crook of his neck. the room is quiet, save for the low hum of the fan and the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as it evens out.

jungkook's fingers trace lazy shapes along your thigh, slow and thoughtless, like he’s just making sure you’re still there. still his. still real.

beside you, hello kitty stares from the edge of the bed. a little crooked. still wearing the ribbon he tied on her hours ago.

“you think she judged us?” you mumble against his collarbone.

his chest shakes with a quiet laugh.

“she was appalled. horrified, even.”

you snort.

“poor girl didn’t sign up for that.”

“we should apologize.” he suggests. “sorry, kitty.”

you giggle agaisnt his chest. then, you lift your face and say; “next time… i think the tiger ears should stay on.”

he stills, then looks down at you slowly—like you just said something criminal.

“what’s with you and props? if it’s not my glasses, it’s the tiger ears. what’s next? blindfolds and whips?”

“i’m dead serious.”

“oh, i know. that’s the scary part.”

you both dissolve into soft laughter, his fingers still moving along your bare skin. at some point, he tugs hello kitty into the covers, nestling her between your bodies like a little buffer. a witness, maybe. or a silent secret keeper.

your eyes flutter closed soon after. sleep is winning.

but jungkook stays awake a little longer. watches you. breathes you in.

and once he’s sure—sure your breathing is slow and even, sure you won’t catch him in the act—he leans down, presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and whispers against your skin like it’s sacred.

“___?” jungkook whispers, voice low and careful, like he’s scared of waking you.

he shifts a little, just enough to see your face in the soft lamplight. your lashes are fanned out across your cheeks, your lips slightly parted, breath slow and steady.

you don’t answer.

he watches you in silence. listens to the hush of the room and the tiny creak of the mattress as he adjusts his arm under your waist. your leg is still hooked over his hip, and your fingers rest gently on his chest—right over the spot where his heart is beating just a little too fast.

maybe you’re asleep. maybe you’re not.

but he takes the chance anyway.

he turns his head, nose brushing the side of yours. and with a kiss so soft it almost doesn’t land, he presses his mouth to your hairline.

“i’m so in love with you,” he breathes. not even a whisper—more like a confession carried on his last exhale. “i love you.”

you don’t move. don’t speak. don’t flinch or blink.

but your fingers twitch. just slightly.

and then they curl in, sinking into the fabric of his shirt. slow and gentle, like your body coudn’t help but respond before your mind caught up. like your heart heard him first.

jungkook’s eyes flutter close.

he doesn’t say anything else. doesn’t push or ask or even hope. he just sinks a little deeper into the sheets, into you, pulling you closer like maybe, if he holds you tight enough, the moment won’t break.

and you—still quiet, still pretending—feel everything.

the weight of his arm around you.

the warmth of his skin against yours. the truth of what he said lingering in the space between your bodies.

you don’t say it back.

not yet.

but you feel it, too. so, in your head you say it back. drifting to sleep, tangled with the love of your life—

i love you too. 

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- this chap - lots of long distance woes, tonsss of emotions, light angst, love confessions, mentions of oral (m receiving) phone sex, masturbation

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazingg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 Comments/rbs appreciated <3

<<<Part Six - Masterlist - Playlist- Part Eight>>> (soon)

Part Seven

“Shit, don’t wanna let you go,” Satoru murmurs softly as you hug him, he’s about to board a private plane with Samantha to head back home. She surprisingly didn’t give you much shit other than asking if you really wanted to be with Satoru, and trying to kiss you.

Samantha was odd but not as bad as you worried.

Despite whatever past the two shared, they seemed genuinely uninterested in each other, and judging by her purring at you!? She seems to think you’re pretty attractive apparently. You just shook your head at the encounter as she climbed up, and he’s holding you close, you inhale his scent, worried you’re never gonna fucking have it again.

“Baby,” he murmurs, feeling your tears against his chest as he holds you tight, the air still chilled, his breath coming out in a puff of fog as he bends low, tightening his hold. He feels you trembling as you try to hold it in, remembering last night with you in his arms. “I’m not going forever.”

You can’t answer or respond, so upset, he feels the emotions choke him up, stuck in his throat, sighing and stroking your back slowly under your jacket. Just this morning he’d been gasping out as you sucked him, in the quiet of the morning back in his room, he thought for a moment he must be dreaming. How in the world did he wake up to you and get that?

You’d been a little nervous, giggling and blushing as he had been, stroking your hair gently back to hold it for you, messy from your sleep. You’d almost had him about to bust from a few sucks and laps of your tongue, your hand stroking him up and down slowly, but he’d had to be inside you again.

‘C’mere baby,’ he’d whispered, tugging you on his lap and gliding your slick cunt across his cock, slicker and slicker as you kissed him, and he tasted his precum off your lips. “Wanna cum inside you again, fuck…’

You’d whined out, brows drawn together as your hips moved, lifting them up for his tip to press in, slowly stretching your already sore little pussy out, the amount of rounds you two have gone in a couple days is more than you’ve had in years. He’d been so easy with you, moaning softly, blue eyes studying you as he felt your cunt grip him so good.

‘God you’re so beautiful,’ his words made you emotional, tears falling even as he sunk deeper inside your eager cunt, gasping. ‘You are.’

‘I love you,’ you tensed as the words spilled, but Satoru just kissed you deeply, moaning into your lips and pulling you down his length. ‘Satoru!’

“I love you too,” he whispers in your ear, you look up at him now, eyes wide and glittering with tears, he strokes your cheek and looks down at you, lashes casting shadows on his high cheekbones in the dawn. “I didn’t say it this morning, I was so in shock you said that…”

“You love me too?” He nods, smiling sadly, feeling his own tears begin to burn the back of his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since I met you,” you shake your head but he nods, leaning low and stroking your cool cheeks, flushed from the weather. “I have.”

“Satoru,” you kiss him now, as the whirl of the plane radiates, and he desperately falls into it, clinging you so tightly. “I never stopped loving you.”

“Neither did I,” he breaks apart with a sigh, kissing you over and over. “Just come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can, your dad is okay, you can teach-”

“Satoru, I can’t just… leave everything on a whim. I need to plan things and also… what if you find I don’t fit in your life?” He frowns at your words now.

“What?”

“You had a whole famous career, what if I don’t fit your image - mnh!” Satoru cuts you off with another kiss, and you feel your pulse race, blood rushing in your ears as he tugs you closer, you feel the heat of his body radiating over your layers.

“Bullshit.” Is his very simple response, you sigh and tilt your head, as the pilots come out and remind Satoru he needs to go. He looks highly irritated before looking back at you. “Then fly out and visit me as soon as you can.”

“You want that?”

“Do I want that?” He tugs you closer, hand firm on the small of your back. “I want it more than anything. I’ll prove to you I’m not just disappearing, okay?” You nod, sniffling now as you look up at him.

You just got him back in your life, and now you’re saying goodbye.

The pain almost leaves you breathless, you want to cling to him so badly, you want to jump on that plane. Everything is trying to pull you two apart, but all you want is to stay with him, forever. 

Terrified though, god could you trust him? You want to, you need to, but the doubt is ever there, gnawing at your mind even as you try so hard to shove it all back. To focus on this moment, this beautiful moment you never imagined.

Two childhood best friends turned to strangers.

And now?

“Maybe I can postpone it? Maybe I can-”

“Toru it's your career, don't sacrifice it for me,” you take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles, he tugs you closer, pressing kisses on your brow. “I'd feel horrible if you did.”

“You're worth anything, maybe I can work on relocating eventually? Baby we can figure something out. So many people in this industry do it.” He's smiling so bright, so reassuring, you want to believe it, that it can be true.

“We will figure it out together.” He sighs at your words, kissing you as he's getting called away, never wanting you to leave his arms. A girl who didn't exist in his sphere for eight years, now fit so perfectly in his embrace.

“Call me as soon as you land, please. Let me know you're safe.” You whisper, sniffling as you speak softly. Satoru nods, blinking back his own emotions.

“I will. I… love you. I love you.” He's testing those words, wines he practiced in front of his mirror growing up, seeing your flushed cheeks, your tremulous smile.

“I love you, Satoru.” His heart pounds in his ears as you kiss him again, on your tip toes, arms around him. He can't drag himself away, big hands taking over your body as they run down it.

“I can't go…”

“I will wait for you,” he sighs, snowy lashes fluttering, breaths mixing as he cups your face. “I want to be yours.”

“You are mine.” He kisses slowly, as he knows he has to let you go. Stepping back, your joined hands fall apart, you put on a bright smile but the tears are covering your cheeks, glimmering in the sunlight. He can't leave you in tears again.

“I'll be all right, just don't forget me.”

He walks back in long strides, kissing you deeply again, swirling blue eyes gazing down at you. “I never did.”

The words follow you.

I never did.

I never forgot you.

You are a mess when you’re back home, the image of him climbing on that plane too fucking much, your mom has to hold you as you cry in her arms, trying to reassure you that it will all be okay. You nuzzle against her neck, just like you did as a kid, as she holds you tight. Your heart can hardly take Satoru’s absence, not after the words of love were finally confessed.

“Honey, he said that he loves you?” You nod, as your mother rubs her hand up and down your back, sighing. “He always loved you I think.”

“I think so too, mom.” She smiles down at you, brushing your hair back.

“And you always loved him.” You nod, bursting back into tears, your dad walks by and glares.

“Did he hurt you!? I’ll fly out there and-”

“Oh stop, old man.” Your dad crosses his arms, and you giggle then. “He didn’t hurt me, he went home. You’re so protective.”

“Of course I am, you’re still our little girl, even if you’re all grown now.” He comes over and pats your head, frowning. “Are you two…”

“Together.” You answer, nodding. He sighs, sitting next to the two of you, as your mom smiles at him.

“They’re in love.”

“In love, hmm? He better act right then.”

“Uh huh, you’re so scary pops.” You playfully swat at him, and he just holds your hand and smiles.

“I mean it. Is he… are you two going to date long distance?”

“We’re going to try… I think I need a nap. Ugh, I’m drained.” The nod understandingly, you can’t be more thankful to be here in that moment.

You look at your phone, Satoru should land in a few hours, and you will hopefully feel better when you know he’s alright, the sight of his tears as he left had done you in even further. You now know the love was always there, that the note in your year book was still how he felt.

You lay in the bed he’d had you in the other day, the one he’d gripped your hands in, kissing you so deeply. Holding you in his arms, you can still smell him on your blankets, sighing and shutting your eyes. You picture him back home and wonder if you’ll ever fit into his beautiful life, before drifting off, letting the exhaustion of the past few days hit.

*****

“Gojo we have a meeting.”

“Satoru! We have a shoot tomorrow, we need your input.”

“Satoru, this is the girl you’ll be doing the shoot with.”

“Lets have drinks Gojo!”

“My name is not Michelle!”

Satoru is fucking bombarded with people when he’s landed in Hollywood, never ending calls and texts, his manager picks him up and drags him to some fucking press junkett. His eyes hurt from crying, from the flight, from the brightness of the lights flashing in his face. He has to walk a carpet tomorrow, it's a huge fashion show after that, he needs to prepare.

Get his walk together, get a face treatment done, get his stylist over. It’s never ending, why did it not bother him before? The constant hustle, the city that’s awake so late, and he knows in your time zone it’s gotta be midnight already. When he finally gets a quiet moment, walking into his penthouse tiredly, he pulls out his phone to see the few texts you sent.

They’re not pushy, they’re caring, loving, sweet.

He immediately calls, and it rings for far too long, making his chest ache while he slips off his shoes by the door, when finally you pick up. “Toru?”

He exhales in relief at your voice, sinking down to sit on the carpet, leaning his back against the door. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

“I was worried,” you yawn, he hears how sleepy you are then. “It’s so late, you okay?”

“It’s not that late here, I tried so hard to get a fucking moment. They were relentless when I got back.” He loosens his tie, sighing as he hears another cute yawn, picturing your face with a smile. “I miss you already.”

“I miss you s’much, Toru.” Your words are slurred by exhaustion, he panics as he realizes you’re falling asleep, is this all he would get some days from you? A couple fucking moments?

How would that ever be enough?

“Are you sleeping on me?” He manages to maintain a light tone, feeling a world the fuck away from you then.

“M’sorry, I have work in the morning. I wanna stay up but…”

“No, baby it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you blink away sleep, sighing and turning now, pressing your video on your phone. “Lemme see you, please.”

“Of course,” he turns it on, sees the dark silhouette of your pretty face in the night, caressing the phone screen gently as you smile. “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi Toru. You look tired too.”

“I am,” he shuts his eyes for a second, before looking back down at the phone, and seeing your eyes glittering. “I want to fucking hold you, shit. That’s… it’s so…”

“Sweet, it’s sweet. And so do I,” you barely hold back your tired tears, Satoru aches to swipe them away. “Tomorrow, I get out at two, it’s like eleven your time? You can call me any time after. And text me any time I promise I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

“Of course I will, I need to get a few things settled this week, then let’s see about getting you for a visit, hmm?” You smile and nod, so lonely then, when you’ve been alone for so long. But missing his arms wrapped around you, like you were always supposed to fit there.

“We will. Toru, can you just… keep the phone on while I fall asleep? Even if you’re just getting ready for bed?” You soft whisper breaks his heart, he stands up then, setting you on the counter, taking off his jacket.

“I can do that every single night till you’re here,” you exhale in relief, setting the phone down as the two of you turn off the video, hearing his soft breathing, the rustling of clothes. “I won’t sing you lullabies.”

“Meanie,” he laughs at your sleepy declaration.

“I’m not a good singer.”

“Bet you are, remember you played guitar?” You yawn again, he smiles at that memory, taking off his shirt, now in the bathroom, carrying you around and listening to your soft, slow breathing like a lifeline.

“You remember that phase? I only played one song.” You yawn again, while he splashes a little water on his face, looking in the mirror at how tired he is.

“You played it s’good, wanna hear it again.” He smiles at your sweet words, soon he’s in bed, laying on his side and looking out at the view, he’s several stories high, and you can see the whole city where he is. He wonders if you’ll enjoy that, as he tugs a body pillow close, resting his head against it.

“I will buy another guitar for you, learn it again.” you’re already lightly snoring then, he can’t help but smile, heart tugging with affection at the sound. “I love you, sweetheart, good night.”

He hangs up the phone, missing you so terribly, and it hasn’t even been one fucking day.

*****

Life was back to ‘normal’ for you, the kids in your class  are insane but you love them, they’re all calling your name over and over for something new, as you teach them how to write their names, as you read them stories. You were originally an elementary school teacher, but there weren’t many opportunities here, and you ended up with very young kids.

It’s been a week since you saw Satoru in person, but every night he calls, and every day you all text several times. You fall asleep to him, even if he’s at an event he’ll go to a quiet area, talking to you in that soothing tone of his, so that you can rest, while the longing eats you alive. The need for him grows, as you feel like there’s just a missing part of yourself now.

You eye a red carpet with Satoru in it on the screen, and see a model on his arm for photos as he walks up, taking pictures and smiling cooly. It’s not the smile you know, his hand isn’t on her, nor is it on the model that gets on his other arm. He keeps them at his sides, as the cameras flash, cooing about his recent shot at a role in a movie, yes now Satoru wasn’t just a model, he was acting.

You’re so happy and proud, but it feels more and more deep, the chasm that separates the two of you, so wide it’s as if you don’t know how you’ll make the jump. You set aside any worries or hurt feelings, brightly going about your day, coming to help at the bar for a few hours as is your routine.

Your parents are doing better, dad’s recovered so well, but they truly still need your help, they’d just gotten medical expenses paid off, and you know even if it’s a little, they need the extra for the upkeep of the place. You can tell they don’t want you to feel obligated, but you don’t mind helping them, it keeps you busy, it keeps you distracted from it all.

Even now, it’s evening, your shift at the bar, and you hear the sound of Satoru’s voice on the tv. You try to ignore it, when they’re asking him about his personal life, as Sukuna walks into the bar, and you hear the words, the answer. You look up at the tv to see him awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Gojo?”

“Um… I… well…”

You look up at the television, surely you were that, right? How can you be in love, and not… unless he’s embarrassed. Unless he’s embarrassed he’s with a girl in a pair of jeans working the bar right now. You struggle not to think that way, as people are asking for drinks, and you focus on that instead, you see Suguru and Shoko come in and eye the screen too.

“Do you have anyone serious? Are you single?” The reporters are honing in, you don’t even look at the screen now.

What’s it matter, if he wanted to keep it secret, maybe he wants some things private? It doesn’t need to be a bad thing, you tell yourself that in your head over and over as you hear an awkward chuckle. Your eyes keep flitting up before going back down to the drink you’re overpouring. You curse softly, cleaning it up with a napkin and a shaky hand.

“I’d rather not get into my personal life.”

“Are you with Samantha-”

“No, and I don’t want to go on about it. Next question.”

Your heart sinks then, he didn’t say he was single, but would it have maybe hurt to admit he was talking to someone- anyone?

“Shit, you okay?” Shoko’s up at the bar now, frowning as she watches you plaster on a bright smile, nodding. “You sure?”

“I’m great, um… how are you two? The usual?” You tease, and they nod, eyeing the screen again.

“He seems a little less pretentious.” Suguru mumbles, you nod then. “You two spent a lot of time together?”

“We did, um, a lot of time,” your blush tells on yourself, they eye each other.

“He always loved you,” Suguru says then, the words hitting home as his warm smile makes you relax just a bit. “He really did, he was gonna tell you the night he disappeared on us.”

“I know, I love him too.” They pause, looking at you. “Loved? Love. Both.”

“Shit, yeah?” You are nodding as Shoko takes one of your hands. “Maybe he just wants to keep you safe?”

“You think?”

“It’s true, Hollywood eats people up,” Suguru agrees, the two of them easing your tension a bit as they head over to play pool together, his hand on her lower back as they share a kiss, making you long even more for Satoru.

“Hey brat,” you glare at Sukuna’s words as he chuckles, hands in his pockets. “I came to say goodbye.”

“Oh, you’re headed back?” He nods then, and you come around the bar, embracing the tall lug of a man you had such a past with. “You came to say goodbye to me, really?”

“Yeah, why not. It was nice catching up.” He wraps you in a warm hug, you sigh, nodding in agreement. “Tell your dad I’m gonna go harder on him next time.”

“Oh he’ll be ready,” you giggle as the two of you pull back, and your eyes go up to where Satoru’s leaving, before looking down, clearing your throat. “Sukuna…”

“Yeah?”

“Would you keep a relationship secret, because of fame?” He blinks a bit then, shaking his head. “To keep your privacy?”

“So… no. But not for any good reason,” he pulls back a bit, brushing your hair behind your shoulder with a serious glint to his ruby eyes. “I’d do it because I wouldn’t want any man ever thinking he has a chance with my girl. I’d never allow a fucker to think he had a shot, hell no. Ring on the finger, baby in her tummy.”

“Sukuna, you’re so archaic!” He shrugs, grinning then and raising his brows.

“What, everyone would need to know she’s my woman, so no. Plus, who I’m with would know that’s my life.” He shrugs a broad shoulder as you roll your eyes.

“You’re old school huh?”

“Tch, I guess so.” He runs a hand through those pink locks, eyeing the screen right with you. “The kid’s in love with you if you’re worried, even if he’s a little shit.”

“Thank you Sukuna,” you smile and press a kiss on his cheek, earning it blushing in the dim lights of the bar. “That’s actually sweet of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, psh.”

“You’ve become a really good dude, y’know that?”

“Of course I know I’m amazing. Calm down.” He ruffles your hair then, before frowning a bit. “If you want to be claimed as his girl, say something. Maybe his dumb model brain doesn’t know.”

“Oh you know he’s smart…”

“Maybe book smart, that doesn’t mean shit in the real world. Just say something, so you don’t…” he trails off then. “have regrets and shit.”

“Yeah, no, that's really good advice.” You take his hand, feeling the past finally subside, Sukuna was your first in so many ways, your first ‘love’ and first heartbreak, the first guy you were with. “I always wondered about you, if you were good.”

“Shit, me? Why?”

“Just wondered. And you are.” He takes your hand in his, nodding then, looking down at your lips for a moment, before they go back to your eyes.

“I am good.” He presses a kiss to your head, soft and affectionate, sighing then. “If he fucks up-”

“Sukuna!”

“Well just saying.” You shove him now, of course he doesn’t move, just chuckling a bit. “I had to throw it out there one more time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be safe headed back home, okay?”

“Yeah.” That’s all he says as he leaves, and the tv changes to something else, your phone ringing then.

Satoru.

You almost ignore it, but you know you need to hear him out, taking a breath as you put the phone up to your ear, heading out into the cool night so you can get away from some of the noise. “Just saw you on tv.”

He pauses then, cursing internally. “I wanted to say we’re together, but I don’t know if you’re ready for it, for this. I’m so sorry -”

“Toru, it’s okay.” You shake your head, leaning against the brick wall. “I get it, maybe you don’t want anyone to know about me.”

“No! No, not at all. It’s just, fuck Hollywood is brutal, they’re invasive, I just wanted to make sure you want this, have you visit first, get to know this world, before you decide. What if you hate it all?”

“I’ll still love you,” your words make his heart shatter, as he stands outside the press junket, hating the hurt in your tone. “I’ll love you no matter what your life is like, okay? Are you worried about that?”

“Yes,” he admits softly. “You’re a fucking angel, Hollywood is full of snakes, people with shit intentions. I don’t want any of them to ever hurt you.”

“Then you’ll protect me,” he nods though you can’t see, leaning against a brick wall of his own in the much warmer air, dry and hot in his lungs as he inhales. “I am not mad at you, I was just upset.”

“That’s all I do, upset you.”

“Toru…”

“It is, why do you even talk to me?”

“Because I fucking love you, okay?” Your voice breaks then. “I miss you. I miss you so bad.”

“Me too, fuck me too.” He swipes a hand across his face, shaking his head then. “I should have said I’m with someone.”

“If you’re not ready-”

“I am, I am just thinking of you, of what you would want. You want a more simple life and… how do I make that work, make it happen? It’s all so…”

“New, it’s new. And you shouldn’t think about all that right now, just… let’s take this day by day, okay?”

“Yes, day by day. And I ruined your day.”

“You did not. The toddlers puking on me didn’t even ruin it, or the old geezer who grabbed my ass as I gave him his drink.”

“Did what now!?”

You’re laughing, but he’s fuming. “It’s fine, I just was a little hurt and in my head about it all.”

“I don’t want that. I froze and didn’t know what to say. I promise, I’ll let them know at least I’m taken, I’ve let every girl know already, that’s probably why the rumors have started.” You hate how good it makes you feel. “You’re it for me.”

“Toru, you’re it for me too. I need you.” He shuts his eyes, picturing you again, tuning out all the sounds.

“I need you more. I’ll call you when I’m home?”

“I’ll be up tonight, no work tomorrow.”

It’s a bit late when he makes it in, he hears your sleepy voice, cursing himself that he’s going to barely talk to you again. He is so worried he made a mistake earlier, he never wants you to feel not enough - but he really did panic then. He had no clue if once you came out you’d want this life, to be with him in his world, he worried so deeply about it constantly.

But you clearly wanted that validation.

He can hear it as you answer, as the two of you talk, the girl that was so confident back when you were young is apprehensive, nervous. You don’t realize you’re his everything, that you’re all he sees, and he knows he has to work harder to show it - but he’s so exhausted, and he misses you.

“Can I see your pretty body, please baby?” He murmurs softly into the phone, husky and seductive to your ears. You gasp a bit, he hears a rustle of your blankets as you turn on the video. “Fuck, look at you.”

“I look tired.” You sigh as you slip your top down, strap by strap, listening to his breath catch, his soft moan.

“Beautiful,” he already feels himself hard for you, as he touches his aching cock, moaning softly. “Fuck…”

“Are you um…” You blush as he nods, the thrill and need mixing together. “Touching yourself for me?”

“Only you, baby, fuck,” he’s whining as you slip down your top, letting your pretty tits bounce for his vision. “Torture not to be able to touch them, god.”

“You want to touch them, Toru? Want to kiss them?” You’re asking so sweetly, as if you don’t know what you’re doing, when he starts stroking his length, gasping out at how good it feels.

“Wanna suck on those nipples, wanna have that pretty pussy on my tongue,” it’s your turn to whine out, shifting, your thighs pressing together. “Pinch them for me, let me see you.”

You do just that, gently tugging at your nipples, each one gently, while his cock leaks precum out of his pretty pink tip, but you see his face the whole time instead, the fluttering of his white lashes, the tint of his cheeks. “Toru, god you’re so sexy I… I’m s-so wet…”

“Fuck,” he’s whimpering as he pinches his tip, eyeing you then through the phone. “Touch her for me, hmm?”

“Yes,” you listen with no hesitation, reaching down your tummy to find your soaking wet cunt then, moaning as you feel your clit twitch under your touch. “Ah! Want you here please.”

“Where, baby? Want me drinking you - ah - all up?” His words are broken, as he huffs, working his cock and looking at your face as your eyes roll back.

“Y-yes,” you’re getting so tense, your tummy feeling the pressure, remembering the shape of him inside you.

“God look at your pretty face.”

“Toru!” You’re trying to keep it down, but he hears it, the squelching of your cunt even over the video chat, earning his deeper groan.

“Roll it in circles, for me? Let me hear it, so slutty and needy, isn’t she?” you manage to nod, tits pressing together for his view while you work your clit under your pajama shorts, and Satoru strokes his length, listening to it, watching your pretty expressions. “That’s it, you picture me there.”

“Y-yes, wanna pull your hair, ngh!” He exhales at your words, while you picture just that, his tongue on your clit, while you’re pushed higher and higher by your own little circles. “Want you in me.”

“I wanna be inside you, deep,” he’s biting his plump lower lip, your eyes meet, both dilated with need, brows knitted as you two work yourselves. “Wanna break you in fucking half, fuck you till you can’t walk.”

“Toru!” You gasp at that, the visions filthy, vision blurring as your slick cunt gets even wetter, making your fingers slip.

“Wanna mark you everywhere, so everyone knows you belong to me, I wanna tell everyone, shit I’m s-”

“Don’t apologize mid- mnh- masturbation!” You scowl and he pouts. “I’m close, lemme cum please.”

“Cum for me, god let me see you, hear you,” he’s desperate and needy then, watching you fall apart for him, biting back your moans he can’t wait to hear fully ring in his fucking ear again. Your cunt throbs around nothing, as you whine in need, looking at him. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

“Cum for me,” you whisper, and he’s already so close, nodding as he jerks his cock for you, spitting down and wishing it was your wetness.

“Suck your fingers,” his soft order has you flustered. “Suck your cunt off them, please baby.”

“Y-yes,” you do just that, sucking your sweetness off your fingers now, slick from how much you came, and he groans, his eyes locked on your face. “Mmm.”

“Fuck me,” Satoru cums so much, white ropes that should be inside you instead, barely managing to compose himself as he moans so fucking loud, feeling the release so pent up. “God I came so much, wanna see?”

“Yes, oh! You did!” He’s laughing breathlessly as he turns back the camera.

“Lemme clean up, one sec.”

“Same.” You two laugh a bit over the phone, soon back in bed, laying on your sides and hugging pillows, looking at each other. “I may have needed that.”

“I need more, so much more.” He pouts so pretty now, looking at you with those eyes of his. “I need you here. When do you have a break?”

“I have four days coming, I could take an extra?”

“When!?” He’s so happy you smile at it.

“Next weekend, we’re off for holiday.”

“Fuck I’ll see what I can clear up, will you come to me please?” He pouts all cute and bats his white lashes, making you giggle again.

“Of course I’ll come to you.”

“And for me?”

“I just did,” he groans his frustration into the pillow, as you shift a bit on your own. “I know, I need you too.”

“It’s killing me. And I upset you today.”

“I’m okay, I didn’t tell you that I wanted you to make it public. Maybe waiting for me to come visit is a good thing?”

“Yeah, I can show you off. If you want!?”

You laugh again, softer this time, mixing with a yawn. “You’ll have to buy me something cute, nothing I own will work there.”

“I’ll get you a whole wardrobe baby.”

“Not all that!”

“Anything. Like, a tiger even,” your giggles melt him, as he falls even deeper for you. “I’m serious!”

“Whatever, you’re too much. I don’t want a tiger. Just a couple cute outfits, don’t have me looking shabby.”

“You could never look anything but perfect.” His words are so sincere and beautiful, your heart flutters then, the Satoru you knew, and the Satoru you know, shifting ever closer to becoming one again.

That’s the sincere, sweet boy you fell for, and the man now.

“Don’t cry, please. I can’t handle it.”

“It’s happy tears, promise.” He sighs in relief, caressing the phone gently. “Fall asleep with me?”

He nods, it’s now your routine, but as you’re dozing off, Satoru’s booking tickets, he cannot stand one more moment without you in his fucking arms. He just has to hope his lifestyle won’t scare you off, that he can find as much time as he can to show you all the beautiful things he wants to.

“Love you, Toru.” You murmur, as he sets the phone down, and hears your light little snore.

“Love you, see you soon.”

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[pink7princess]

a stupid study sesh?

losery nerd!abby learns from a spoiled femcheerleader!reader a different lesson.

┊͙ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ content: reader is blinded by angry disgust (confused horniness) :3 to realize she has a fat crush on this losery nerd, abigail anderson. after a few flirty exchanges/teasing by reader during a study sesh, it leads to sneaky sex..fingering (r!receiving,) top-ish!abby + almost getting caught!!? cute bittersweet ending :3

┊͙ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author's note: the characters are over 18 dw :P,,,smart girls are so underrated...intelligence is so sexy??! i love nerdy abby sm, anyways i made dis shit super long…sorry man…but enjoy!!

abby arrived at your house. it was an April evening, meaning—it was finally warming up. you chill on your bed, window open with the cool breeze as the sun sets, every pink object in your cute room glimmering. you scroll on pinterest, petting your pet cat. she purrs, loving your familiar aroma. life is good, you’re freshly showered, cute pj set on and hair blow dried all cute. you sigh, throwing your phone beside you, deciding you want a snack. you hop off your silky bed and make your way down the hall to the stairs. as you reach the bottom, the doorbell rings. damn it. she actually came. your mom signed you up in the tutoring club at school because of your flunking grades caused by cheerleading. backpack full with textbooks slung over her broad shoulder—braid all tidy and flannel snug and well buttoned up. your mom sets down whatever she's cooking and scurries from the kitchen to the door. she creaks open the door, "hello—?" abby inhales sharply, adjusting her posture, standing tall with a friendly smile. her glasses awkwardly sit half way down her nose and with a little push of her thick fingers, she adjusts them, "I'm here to help—uhm.." abby looks in, catching your frozen frame suddenly turning, hair bouncing and socks sliding, attempting to sneak back up the stairs.

"Oh! You must be Abigail! Come inside!" your mom grins widely, waving a hand sweetly forward. abby steps inside, her huge stature and boots creaking the wooden floor, "Missy! Get back here!" your mom laughs, glancing over at you with a playful glare. defeated, you walk down dejectedly with a groan.

a scowl forms on your face as you walk up to abby. her physique is insane. an absolute tank. you avoid her eyes because for some reason…she pisses you off. your mom speaks, "Snacks are in that pantry, water is near—“ she continues talking expressively, the classic overexaggerated hand movements a mother would use as she's simply giving abby the run of the house. abby seems only to be half-listening as you catch her gaze flicker to your pajamas. fuck, your cheeks flush. your lacey tank top with the cursive writing of "bossy" hugs your figure in an alluring way. it's accompanied with your cute cleavage showing... you nod, turning to your mom, attempting to agree with whatever the hell she was saying. your own eyes gawk at abby's arms and thighs. shit—you realize abby's eyes linger to your bottom half, your pretty short shorts and plump thighs. you nervously push your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mom.

you could tell abby's taking in your body from how she inhales roughly, trying to snap out of it. abby accidentally catches a whiff of your intoxicating perfume and hair heat protector... shit, this was a bad idea.

"I'll leave you girls to it!" your mom rests a hand on abby's shoulder, making her jerk to reality, "and—Welcome Abigail. Hope you can help this silly dork study well for her math test tomorrow!" your mother chuckles adorably as she walks back to the kitchen, pace quick to check what was in the oven. both you and abby watch as she leaves, the air is so thick, making it hard to think.

you turn to abby, eyebrows furrowing. you grow angry for how she makes you feel. your cheeks burn. her—this fucking quiet loser who reads during class 24/7, hangs out with other gym rats & lame nerds, eats alone at lunch with her nose buried in her sketchbook and watches your cheer practices with her stem homework on her lap, is standing in your house right now.

wait—you wince at your own words realizing how...bad you feel for her. ugh-what? you hardly speak to her. abby has only ever exchanged more than a billion glances with you for like ever. but, the way she looks at you can tell a whole story. her gorgeous blue eyes, fierce eyebrows and soft lips. she seems so mysterious. honestly, someone that pretty shouldn't seem so alone all the time. what? yuck-! she's just a pathetic nerd! you’re a popular cheerleader. you blink with an irate swallow. abby stares down at you, her voice gently rude, "studying for a math test isn't that fucking bad," she sighs disappointedly, shaking her head, "wipe that dumb frown off your face, come on." abby rolls her eyes, pushing past you, her strong arm brushing against your chest as leads herself up the stairs.

your mouth gapes in confusion with how she somehow brushes you off. you. a super hot cheerleader in the flesh! you, baffled, follow pursuit, your socked feet padding on the stairs. abby is already walking down the hall, entering you room. "hey-!" you whine, catching up, suddenly embarrassed about her seeing everything in your room.

she steps inside.

the pink walls covered with white & pink posters of your interests, stuffed animals cover your bed, makeup scattered all over your vanity—beside it, a huge mirror decorated with pictures of yourself and friends.

your cat yawns, suddenly noticing abby, meowing at her tiredly. she squeaks over, hopping off the bed, greeting abby with face rub on her calf. abby looks so out of place. but—somehow...she looks really good in here. the contrast makes your heartbeat flutter. you kinda… like it. what—ew!? her? out of everyone…? well… abby looks over her shoulder at you, her voice making your cheeks heat up, "she's so cute. what a pretty cat."

you fluster, your mind racing at the stupid innuendo and the way she simply looks. abby’s strong nose is so attractive. fuck, you never really noticed, or—never took the time to look at her since the fact she won half the academic awards in the school always made you fume. you hated how smart she was. you didn’t even really understand why that was. but—that random dirty thought confused you, making your thighs rub together. why the fuck did i distort a simple sentence? you shake your head with a giggle, "t-thanks."

abby steps towards your vanity, setting her bag down on the frilly seat, her strong hand gripping the bag handle tightly, "you mind if I put this here?" your breath catches in your throat as you nod anxiously, "yeah-sure, that's okay." you sigh, feeling overwhelmed with the ache in your stomach. you close your eyes, walking over to your bed.

"grab your textbook and notebook, okay?" she softly asks, her demeanor seemingly calm. turning her back to you, she rummages through her bag, discreetly glancing at you one last time—eyes taking you in, shyly. you roll your eyes at her words. you're alone and she wants to do math? fuck no. wait, what?

you hop on the edge, laying back, rubbing your eyes as you try to assess your noisy brain.

this nerdy hunk is in your room right now.

you sit up abruptly, eyes wide at your own words. this nerdy...WHAT? you blink at your thoughts, staring down at your short painted nails now on your lap. abby's rummaging through her backpack for a pencil and eraser. hmm. i mean...she doesn't actually seem that losery. she seems to take care of herself. you glance up at her, her physique clearly being taken care of. abby’s back is turned to you. shoulders beefy and neck strong. god, you rest your eyes shut, thinking. shit...her back is kinda...hot. fuck.

she works out, you know that—you've seen her exercise. sometimes, in the early mornings when you go to the gym, you catch her there all the time and maybe you go extra early on certain days just to see her, her sweaty face and neck, body always in a compress shirt, a drastic comparison to her flannels and casual t-shirts.

damn. you bite your lip, reminiscing. man, has she always been this hot? hmm.

"hey." abby's standing in front of you, her voice making you jump and eyes shoot open. she looks down at you with an agitated glare, "come on." her head nods to your desk, your notebooks and textbooks sitting all messily. your breathing relaxes as you smell her pine cologne. god, she's actually so...handsome.

you raise an eyebrow at her. “abby.”

your voice hitches, realizing you’ve never really ever spoken to her. or even said her nickname everyone calls her. it feels weird.

“what?” she sighs, handing you a pencil. “can we work?” her head cocks to the side, annoyed, resting her weight on one hip.

you got all her attention. talking to her for the first time. well damn. you decide to...play around a bit. because fucking hell, this hunk is in your room.

and she's hot.

you don’t like her because she is hot for a nerd.

shit, you wanna know what she tastes like.

you shake your head no.

abby's eyes squint with confusion, a look of disgust crosses her face, "what do you mean, no?" abby's voice is stern.

you smile mischievously, tilting your head, changing the subject, “what do you do for fun?" you lay back on your elbows, sighing, feeling more confident because you know how timid she is. you know your tits rest teasingly because from her angle—they must look so good.

"what-?" she chokes with a chuckle. you bite your lip with a sing-song voice, "answer me."

"i'm not here to discuss silly hobbies." abby groans, looking away, rubbing her neck, nervously, “i volunteered to help you study.”

your grin grows, need growing. slowly, you lift your foot, resting it on her thigh teasingly.

"how much can you bench?" you laugh sensually, staring up at her through batted eyelashes. abby's face softens as she raises an eyebrow at the caress, glancing between you and your leg.

“a lot, right?" you ask under your breath, huskily with cheeky grin. abby's gentle eyes glow glassy with curiosity.

"y-yeah," abby stutters as her eyes bore across your body, her frame uneasy. she rubs her shoulder, embarrassed. a girl has never talked to her this long.

abby doesn’t talk to girls that much.

because...there’s only one girl on her fucking mind.

your scent. your face. your smile. ugh. she can get a fucking toothache thinking about how sweet your laughter is.

abby's watches your silly cheer practices for a reason.

she’s alone in a room with you, trying to be this chill calm person…but—she’s freaking out in her head wildly at your outfit.

fuck, she volunteered for a reason.

unbeknownst to you, abby’s been in love with you for years.

her hearts aches every time she sees you with that gang of popular kids, wishing, she was amongst them.

when she reads, she’s always stealing glances at you, daydreaming about you and her being the main love interests in her romance books.

when she hangs out with her stupid gymrat friends, all she talks about is you. her friends always give advice on how to talk to you! although, abby ignores half of it because she's scared of even looking at you...

when she sketches during lunch, she’s illustrating nature that reminds her of you. writing poems about you. drawing your features.

when she sits at the stands during your practice, she loves hearing your giggle as she completes her insane calculus equations, admiring your charming playfulness as you play around with your friends.

there are days where she wishes she could talk to you.

abby hates how different you are. how you hang out with those shitty jocks and those snakey motherfuckers in cheer.

she sits alone at lunch and fucking daydreams about you walking over.

abby loves working out for a reason. it calms her nerves because, shit—it’s better than crying for hours about how she’s incapable of simply approaching you.

abby knows how sweet your soul is. she knows beneath that mean exterior, when you're with the right people, you shine. she watches you from afar, constantly feeling like a creep. she’s a little ashamed.

worst of all—she hates every stupid boy that speaks to you.

like during valentine’s day, abby was so tempted to buy you flowers, leaving them on your desk with a handwritten letter confessing her love.

but…when rumor spread you already had a valentine, she felt empty.

abby wants you. wants to hold you by the waist. wants to hold hands as you walk to class.

…so naturally, when she heard this opportunity of helping you for the end of the year, she took it!

abby’s got a chance of getting to introduce herself before the year finishes and before college starts...she only reasoned you could bond over the summer.

fuck, her heart swooned imagining being in a room with you.

alone.

abby’s face contorts into anxious interest because—you're enchanting. god, laying beneath her like this...in this piece of clothing? her mouth goes fucking dry. she licks her lips swiftly, eyes scanning your angelic features. she attempts to play it cool as if her fucking underwear, boy shorts, aren’t getting moist. shit, this is her wet dream.

of course abby fantasizes about fucking you.

she becomes so bright red imagining it—eating you out in the locker room…fingering you in the bathroom...and her favorite—strapping you in her bedroom late at night.

even if she gets a glance from you during class when she’s ovulating…

her shy nature is quite drastic from her thoughts.

she’s pretty fucking kinky.

loving the idea of public sex to bondage.

she always brushes it off because they’re all fucking fantasies anyway...

abby’s head spins realizing how you know nothing about her but she knows everything about you.

she feels pervy. almost gross how you don’t know what’s going on in her head.

abby gulps heavily, shoulders visibly tensing, thinking about how good you’d taste. her freckled cheeks turn a bright red, attempting to shake off the sudden thoughts.

"you're strong, right?" you mock, your tone sultry. still propped on your elbows, you throw your hair over your shoulder, allowing your cleavage to now be completely visible.

abby nods obediently. you beam widely, eyes fluttering close, devilish smile spreading across your face, "are you a virgin, abigail?" her eyes widen, gaze peering intensely into yours.

"why do you wanna know?" she quietly questions, eyes almost desperate.

"oh...well." you start, rolling your eyes, "from the amount of times you’ve come to watch my cheer practice, I wonder if you've fucked anyone on the team." you chuckle, nonchalantly lean up to sit, pulling up your tank top, bouncing your tits for a second—clearly on purpose.

her gaze bashfully avoids yours, self-conscious, realizing how bad that sounds. she fidgets with a notebook in her hand, mindlessly bending pages, “none of those girls are interested in me.” abby claims pathetically, eyes wandering your walls, “and, i’ve-i’ve never…had sex.” she shamefully admits, ogling at her shoes, then—back at you.

fuck, the way she said she’s never had sex—almost sounds like she’s telling you she wants you as an option.

damn it. you feel your panties dampen from the tension.

“why haven’t you?” you scrunch your nose, kindly taking abby’s hand and guiding her to sit beside you on the bed almost like a lost puppy—she obeys, her huge frame jostling the bed.

shit, abby’s brain is short-circuiting because well—you’ve never been this fucking close. abby is mesmerized by your silky skin and the way your pretty lips move. she’s so pathetically drawn to you.

“i-…” abby begins with a deep breath—however, you suddenly cut her off, leaning in, admiring her gorgeous features, simply inches away,

“you’re so hot, abby. no girl ever wanted to fuck a cute nerd like you?”

abby’s dead silent, mouth gaped, eyes big, miserably tainted by arousal. this entire time she’s been trying to fight it.

…but the way she can smell your breath unlocks a need so vicious inside in her.

your eyes linger to her lips, gaze dropping to take in all of her body. finally—you realize why you hate her.

“ever wanted to get fucked by a cheerleader?” you whisper, a cocky grin on your face, “because i sure as hell wanna get fucked by a nerd like you.” you move forward, hand on her thigh, lips ghosting over hers.

abby holds back a whimper, nodding desperately.

your eyes glaze with lust as you move in, lips gripping hers.

abby practically melts into the kiss, pretty lashes batting shut. fucking hell, she wants to scream and jump around—but all she does is moan gently with a growing grin, savoring your candy-flavored lipgloss.

her hand wraps in your hair, tangling with the softness she’s always wanted to become familiar with. you groan against her plump lips as you feel how roughly her mouth moves against yours.

abby seems so passionate, it's so insanely hot, like—you know you’re getting wetter. abby’s tongue pushes past your lips, exploring your warmth. you moan softly into the kiss, fueling her motives further. her hand holds your waist, gripping your sweet flesh, allowing herself to move on top of you. you fall back gently, lips still grasped like your lives depend on it. you hear abby kick her shoes off, moving further on the bed. she’s above you, caging your body in, you did not know you’d love this as much as you currently are.

you whimper pathetically into her mouth, realizing—maybe hating her all this time was fucking idiotic.

abby, herself, groans into your mouth as she begins frantically unbuttoning her flannel—but first…she takes off her glasses. fuckkkk, nothing has ever turned you on as that just did. she places them on your nightstand as she continues kissing you so harshly, making you feel like you’re suffocating. but fuck—you love how eager she seems. maybe this is perfect. maybe she's perfect. you pant, gently helping abby pull her flannel down her shoulders. your hands move up the white shirt that was beneath her flannel, probing her warm waist.

you were so ridiculous, shit, you could’ve had all this a while ago.

abby grips your head roughly, pulling your hair tightly, cocking your face harshly against hers. the pain makes you wince with a loud moan, smiling against her lips. your soft hands push up abby’s shirt.

she takes the hint and completely pulls it over her head, lips unhooking for a second. as she throws her shirt on the ground, within that second—you miss her. you've never felt like this with anyone. is this what real lust feels like? you lean up towards her, bravely wanting to take the lead and fuck—her warm arms engulf you, pulling you on top of her, making your cheeks glow with excitement. abby’s wearing a pretty white sports bra, the brilliance against her skin makes you desperately want to see what she looks like without it.

however—abby’s hands probe up your shirt. you nervously pull back, “i’m-i’m not wearing a bra.” you flush bright pink, confused why you said that, so what!?!?

you understand suddenly. you're nervous. oh. no one's ever made you this nervous. catching her gaze in the hallway always did.

abby smiles wickedly, “here.” she pulls over her sports bra and it feels like time stops.

shit.

you bite your bottom lip hard, almost drawing blood as you see abby’s small tits fall. you moan softly, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden meal laid in front of you.

you pull your own shirt over your head, blush faltering—becoming more confident from how kind she is. fuck, your tits bounce so perfectly. abby’s eyes become almost become predatory and you swear you saw her pupils dilate. you move up to kiss her again, tits grazing each others, making you quietly bite back a whine,

“good-…” fuck. abby stops herself before she finishes that fucking phrase.

she’s imagined this so many times, it almost slipped out. her heartbeat races harder as she turns shamefully scarlet, anxious eyes searching yours.

you raise an eyebrow, tilting your head with surprise, allured by what she was about to say. your gaze grows teasing—realizing what was to leave her lips.

fuck, you wanna hear her say it. this quiet nerd. shy hunk of a woman. your eyes glow with desire as you whisper sensually, “say it.” you softly bite her bottom lip teasingly, nodding with approval as you begin to kiss down her neck.

“good girl.” she groans roughly, eyes fluttering shut as you suck harshly on her neck.

you begin giving her a hickey she’s always deserved. you suck the skin meanly, making abby whimper. fuck—her hands grip your ass, pulling you closer. the movement of her hands on your thin shorts makes you baffled from how wet you became. she’s exactly your type. you dated jocks. no connection, though. but shit—her, she’s perfect. you smile eagerly against abby’s neck, pulling back.

your eyes, full of need once you see how fucking sexy she looks with a hickey, not a hickey—your hickey.

“fuck, abby, you look so good.” you whimper against her mouth, kissing her once more, craving her sweet spit. suddenly, abby’s strong hands slip down your shorts and panties sharply, the cool air hitting your ass, making you moan into her mouth. her bold move only got you wetter.

one of abby’s big hands moves down your waist, going past your bare ass—her fingers, middle and ring, slip against your sloppy hole.

“mmmmm, can i?” she whispers huskily in your ear, kissing your neck. you nod with a huge smile, pretty eyes closed, ready to savor the feeling. abby’s fingers plunge in so fucking easily from how damn soaked you were. “shit.” she hisses out, feeling how you tight you were.

you bury your face into her bare shoulder, panting with soft groans. your mom is still downstairs. abby's pace is slow but rough. her fingertips graze your g-spot, continuously slamming too well into you. “you feel so good,” she whispers, kissing your bare shoulder.

you lean up, placing your hands on her shoulders. your tits bounce gently as you ride her fingers. she increases the speed at your sexy sounds. you reach forward, gripping your headboard. her fingers stretch you out so fucking good. abby’s pink lips grip one of your puffy hard tits, making you breathily groan harshly, "shit—abby..."

abby grins with a confused expression, she mumbles, “can't believe i'm doing this,” as she sloppily sucks your other tit with a concentration you adore. fuck. your eyes roll back with a whimper, the two sensations driving you crazy.

her fingers pick up speed, suddenly pounding into you, making you gasp sharply.

"f-fuck..." you whine, grinding down on her fingers. one of your hands cheekily make way to her cargo jeans. abby chuckles darkly,

"you wanna?"

you nod desperately, leaning down to swap spit passionately, hands gripping the buttons of abby’s pants, making her kiss you rougher. however, shit—unbeknownst to the two of you, your mom’s coming up the stairs.

a sharp knock silences the room, a cheerful voice outside, “Girls!—“ you both freeze. eyes dead wide. your gaze flickers around, fuck—your panties and shorts are hung to your ankle, you and abby’s shirts on the floor. shit. "It's getting late!—Abigail, you should give me your mom's number so we can arrange playdates!" your mom stupidly chuckles, loving how she still treats you like you're eight.

you shake your head with a nervous gulp. fuck, this is terrible. abby's face is in horror, flickering from your chest, to the door and back up at you, fingers still gently pumping inside you. shit—you bite back a moan, “a-alright! be there in a second!" she stutters, "l-lemme gather my things!" her eyes move back to you, soft and full with displeasure. her eyebrows furrow with regret. your moms footsteps fade away down the stairs.

things were cut short. man.

but hey, you have a new reason to be pissed at her!

"you couldn't have come earlier, abs?” you ask with a pout, giving her a new nickname—something very fitting rolling off your tongue. you kiss her lips, sweetly savoring her taste. your hands grope her nipples teasingly, playing with them with a grumble.

"s-sorry…” she sighs against your lips, genuinely feeling bad. her fingers slip out slowly.

she looks just as disappointed as you.

you whine pathetically, missing her fingers already. fuck. you mumble against her cheekbone, hugging her. “damn it, abbyyyy.” abby kisses your cheek, her voice soothing, “i know, i know…” she comforts, cuddling you back, your bare chests touching each other as they’re meant to be.

she pecks your nose, gripping your hips, moving you off her. you’re practically tossed to the side! you really weren’t, you’re just fucking dramatic..

you roll over with a bratty sigh and slump on the edge of the bed. abby leans down to grab her shirt off the floor, handing yours sweetly in the progress. your pretty eyes bore up at abby’s bare upper torso as she swiftly pulls her white undershirt over her head, her tits disappearing. you pout dumbly once more, tugging your tanktop back on and pulling your shorts up. abby grabs her glasses from your nightstand, pushing them back up her pretty nose.

you scan the room, eyes falling on her sports bra on the bed.

“abs, you forgot to put this on.” you grab it, chuckling preciously. abby tilts her head with query as she walks over to pack her bag, smile growing as she watches you hold her bra, never imagining this situation happening ever.

you bite your lip with a mischievous smile as you think of something silly, “can i keep it till next time?” a pink blush sprinkles your adorable eager smile.

abby can’t say no.

“yeah. t-that’d be..” she nods, buttoning her flannel with an embarrassed grin. you shake your head with a giggle, “but that means i should give you one of mine!”

you scurry to your drawer, the top littered with today’s clothing. you select it, prancing back up to her, handing abby your flowery lacey push-up bra.

her eyes glimmer with lust, holding your bra in her hand. abby’s head spins—still wondering if this is a dream. she tucks it in her bag with a bright red blush, looking almost grateful.

abby leans down, slipping her combat boots on. you admire her, yourself, feeling grateful for taking this chance with her. you never should’ve disliked her.

you grab her hand, speaking gently, really showing you’re not as intimating as abby truly thought,

“i can walk you to the door, abby.”

abby’s arm jokingly nudges your shoulder, “alright, pretty.”

~~~ ⚢ ~~~

you lead abby down the hall with your hands interlocked.

once your mom comes into view, you let go, not because your mom’s homophobic—more like, you wouldn’t want her to know her daughter’s not studying and you know...then have her request a tutor who’d actually teach her…yuck!

“abs will be going now.” you giggle with a suspicious glint, reaching the bottom of the stairs. you reminisce what you both did earlier, fixing your hair nicely as if nothing ever happened. your hand brushes up against abby’s as she nods to your mom, walking to the door, “thanks for having me.”

abby glances at you, almost longingly—which makes your chest ache.

you inhale, attempting to feel okay. you’ll see her tomorrow. your mom scrambles to the door, unlocking it hastily with a kind smile, “Alright, goodnight, Abigail. Hope you have a safe drive home!” your mom’s demeanor is friendly as always. she waves you over to say goodbye to your guest, you know, the one you didn’t want to come over?

you stumble up to abby who’s now standing in the doorway, her stature—incredibly hot and her face, so cute!

“thanks.” you glow pink, biting back a huge grin, cherishing this view till you see it tomorrow at school.

“you’re welcome.” abby teases right back, scanning your figure—making your heart swoon.

your eyes watch each other for a second longer than expected, somehow painting how you miss each other already.

abby turns, her pretty braid swaying as she walks down the pathway. the cool night air seemingly bids her farewell as well. your soft gaze locks onto her as she makes her way to her truck. you know your attraction is showing on your face and—gladly, your mom isn’t noticing or she’d most definitely make fun of you.

abby waves to you, her big hand in the air as she opens her car door accompanied with her huge smile—making your heart feel full.

you wave back playfully, your own pretty smile, wide.

you and your mom walk back inside, shutting the door.

the warm house makes you realize you might have a big ol’ crush. well, you’ve had a big ol’ crush, your silly ass just didn’t notice.

“So, what was it like having a little tutor?” your mom chuckles, walking back to the kitchen to grab a handful of peanuts she was snacking on.

“oh, it was…it was cool.” you sigh longingly, missing her. you adjust your shirt, trying to think of positive thoughts. your spirits are higher than before…since…realizing that stupid angry hole in your heart is gone. it just needed to be filled with lesbianism from a sexy nerd.

“It had to be more than just cool, sweetie.”

“alright, alright, mom. it was fun-!”

you roll your eyes jokingly, going back up the stairs,

“it was just a stupid study sesh.”

~~~ ⚢ ~~~

wait damn i lowkey loved writing this……shall i make a part two??!!!! probs right? cuz like nerdy abby has my heart !!?!?

edit: ANDDD here’s the second part of this story! = part two!!

[cosmicporos]

Arcane character x GN! Reader on Period.

synopsis: Just some period comfort hcs with Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Ekko, Mel and Jinx!

Warning: Cursing. 18+ FOR JINX, no smut but somewhat spicy. Rest of the characters are fluff.

Please enjoy! So sorry it took me so long!

Viktor

He’s very educated on menstrual cycles to begin with! (Biology nerd)

Definitely has a calendar and keeps track of all your cycles.

The day before you’re supposed to get your period he comes home from shopping and restocks on food and pads, tampons, ibuprofen etc.

Would definitely give you a massage to help with cramps.

“Beloved?” Viktor knocked from behind the door before proceeding to enter your shared room. "I got what you needed," he said, setting down the grocery bag containing both the tampons and pads. “And these," he added, revealing a variety of your favorite chocolates, salty chips, and even a bottle of your preferred tea.

You blinked at him, your expression shifting from surprise to gratitude. "You didn't have to-"

“Tsk, tsk, tsk” He quickly shushed you. His free hand reaching to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I wanted to. Now, do me a favor and relax." Before you could protest or question any further, he knelt down by your side, his clever hands carefully lifting the edge of the blanket. "Turn over, Darling” he coaxed, and when you complied, he placed his hands on your lower back, his touch warm and deliberate.

"I read this helps," Viktor murmured as his fingers began to work small, soothing circles into your tense muscles. You feel your muscles loosen and quickly melt into Viktor’s touch.

His hands run a little on the colder side, yet they still work their magic and alleviate the pain in your abdomen.

"You're too good to me," you murmured, your voice muffled as you rested your head against your arm.

"Nonsense," Viktor replied, his voice low and unwavering. "You endure so much… this is the least I can do." He says leaving a small gentle kiss on your cheek.

Jayce

He’s the biggest softy for you on your period oh boy oh boy oh boy. He is completely at your beck and call.

He’s also super carful about your emotional during this time. He tries his hardest to leave work on time and come home!

He understands mood swings can happen and he’s very patient! He accidentally messed up and ticked you off? He’ll nod along as you lecture him and act like a kicked puppy. Then afterwards will ask if you’re okay and if you need space. Will 100% make up and apologize by getting you a sweet treat :3

Jayce finally made his way back home, shoulders heavy and tense. his tie askew and his hair slightly mussed, looking like he'd run the entire way home. You stand up from your place on the couch and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Welcome home” you smile at home before your eyes lower to see an empty handed Jayce. "You forgot?" you said quietly, your voice heavy with disappointment.

Jayce froze, guilt washing over his face. "Forgot what?"

"The heating pad," you replied, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. "You said you'd grab it on your way home. I've been in pain all day, Jayce."

His heart sank. "Oh no," he whispered moving to run a hand down his hair. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I don't know how I missed it…”. He thinks for a moment before he says, “That’s on me, and I'll fix it right now!" He turned to leave, planning to head straight back to the lab.

"No... that's alright Jayce, just please remember next time." You grab hold of his sleeve. He let out a soft sigh and turned around to face you.

"I'm so sorry about that sweetheart... Honestly I was just excited to get back home to you is all." He mumbled into your hair as he pulled you into a hug.

"No no it's fine really, it's not too big of a deal" The warmth of his body slowly encapsulating itself protectively over you.

“No you should be upset it’s okay! I’ll be more responsible next time.” His puppy eyes glowing as if he almost wanted you to be mad at him. It was incredibly difficult to deny Jayce whenever he would behave like this…

“I uh…. O-okay?…. Please do better next time.” Your eyes are looking at anything else but at him.

"... you need to be mad at me until I figure out how to make it up to you." His strong arm coming up from behind to softly pat your side. "How does that sound?"

You laugh off the pervious nerves “I think that sounds perfect" You tilt your head up to face him and press a warm soft kiss to his cheek.

Vi

Okay I feel like for Vi for some reason you two would always be synced

She’s all tough and prepared on day one until day two hits and… that’s a different story

You always end up completely staying home together on the second day of your periods

You groaned as another cramp hit, curling further into yourself under the layers of warmth. Next to you, Vi let out a sharp exhale through her nose, gripping the heat pack on her stomach.

"This is some sick joke," Vi muttered, her voice heavy with irritation. She shifts on the bed, but the movement only made her wince. "I could take a punch to the gut, no problem, but this? This is worse than any fight I've been in."

You scoot closer towards Vi drapes an arm over you, pulling you snug against her chest. Her hand found your hair, fingers threading through it lazily.

"We're a mess," you mumbled into her tank top.

"Yeah," she admitted, pressing her cheek against the top of your head. "But at least we're a mess together."

Vi is totally one to do a complete 180 on the next day.

While you’re still dying of pain she manages to get out of bed early and heads to the store to pick up some stuff

Vi's heavy boots thudded softly against the floor, the sound bringing a flicker of relief. "Alright, babe," her familiar rasp broke the silence, “I got a couple of things for you”

“Don’t you mean us?” You sit up straight and tilt your head a little confused.

“Oh no, I’m doing fine sweetheart don’t you worry. But… I know you probably still feel like a sack of shit so I picked up some goodies for you.” she pulled out an assortment of snacks like chips, gummy candy, soda, juice..(if it had sugar she’s go it!…)

“If these cramps won’t kill me… the amount of sugar here will…” Your eyebrows furrowed at the mess of snacks in front of you.

“Oh pip down will you? Haven’t even gotten to the best part.” What she pulled out next made your breath hitch. It was a small, ridiculously cute plushie. A chubby fox with big shiny eyes and a fluffy tail. Vi plopped it onto your lap as she smirked from your reaction. “Cute huh?” She sits down next to you. “I picked it out cuz it reminded me of you”

Your face flushed instantly, a mix of embarrassment and warmth flooding through you. You picked up the fox, turning it over in your hands. Its fluffy tail was so soft it almost felt unreal, and the wide, shiny eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the room. "Reminded you of me?" you asked, glancing at Vi with a raised brow.

“Yeah well… it’s cute and small.. so it reminds me of you.” She leaned back against the headboard, “And it’s a little spunky. Just like you.”

You roll your eyes and softly punch her shoulder. "It does cheer me up," you admitted softly, clutching the plush fox closer. "Thank you, Vi."

She wraps an arm around you shoulder and pulls you in “No problem Cupcake, anything for you.”

Ekko

HES PANICKING

but in the outside he’s cool as a cucumber

The inside? oh god. He’s stressing out about making sure all your needs are met.

You are not allowed to go on missions during this time at all. He doesn’t exactly forbid it per say but he does shoot a glare whenever you flinch due to the pain of your cramps. He’s always behind you making sure you’re okay

He’s like a little momma bird

You were currently getting ready for a mission, bag laying across the table as you carefully prepare stuffing it full of food, medical supplies, bombs and your trusty lock pick. Ekko leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that ever so perceptive gaze of his.

"You good?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, fine," you replied, wincing as another cramp twisted in your stomach. You shake your head cursing at your own reaction.

He was by your side in seconds, gently taking the pack from your hands. "You're lying."

“Ekko please…” you straightened your back. "I'm fine," you insisted, reaching for the pack again, but Ekko held it out of reach.

reach.

"You think I don't notice you wincing every five seconds?" His voice softened, though his eyes stayed firm. "You can't go out like this.”

“I’m not some baby. Believe me I’ll be just fine.”you protested, though even you could hear how unconvincing you

“Look… you sound way too unconvincing and because you’re way too stubborn…” He paused looking at you and finally smiling. “How about I skip out on this mission too? And you know.. take care of my girl?.” A proud and playful smile adorns his lips while he waits for your response.

You’re a little surprised, not because he doesn’t put you first but because he’s allowing himself to relax in a way as well. “Are you sure about that?" you ask, your voice softer than you intended. "I mean... this mission sounds important. I don't want you to–“

"Stop." He cuts you off gently, stepping closer. The distance between you shrinks, and you feel his hand come to rest on your shoulder, steady and warm. "I've been out there long enough to know the world ain't gonna fall apart if I sit one out." He takes a deep breath and continues, "I know I push myself too hard sometimes. And yeah, protecting our people is important and all, but so is being here. With you. What's the point of fighting if I can't take a moment to enjoy what I'm fighting for?"

“Ekko…” His words hit you harder than you expected, the vulnerability in them catching you off guard.

"Yeah firefly?…” He tilts his head, watching you carefully. His hands fidgeting together like a nervous child.

You let out a small sigh, your resolve crumbling. "Just... don't make a habit of this, okay? The Firelights need you."

"They'll manage," he says with a wink. "I'll make it up to 'em. Promise." He finally makes his way over to you placing a small kiss on your neck before continuing. “But let me make it up to you first okay?”

Jinx

18+

Okay jinx is an absolute horndog when you’re on your period

You got cramps? Uhhhh…. Solution????… her mouth and fingers.

“Love bug come onnnnnn! You know making you cum will help with cramps! What’s the big deal?” She sighed dramatically flopping over the table in front of her.

“Love bug?…” You questioned. “And the deal is I’m on my period!…. I don’t want to make a big mess for you to deal with okay.” You huffed out embarrassed at her playful yet lewd antics.

“Yeah! Love bug cuz you love me and you’re always buzzing around me! Like a bug!” Jinx proudly exclaimed her bright idea of a nickname, perhaps a bit too proudly… “And besides! Me?… care about a mess? You’re kidding right?” she looks almost offended but the fact you assumed she wouldn't do this for you.

“Jinx… I just feel gross okay… I don’t really feel super desirable right now.” You sighed placing your face into your hands.

She bangs her fists on the table and jumps up from her seat. “You’re fucking joking right? You’re smoking babe. SMOKING. Like SMOKING HOT! Her arms waved around as she talked to draw out more emphasis to her claim. She lets out a playful scoff “It’s taking every fiber of my being to not pounce on you right now!”

“Jinx… knock it off…” you bit your lip embarrassed and turned away. “I know that isn’t true at all… quit being too nice.”

“Doll…. You’re way too into your own head! I’m saying I wanna bang and you think I’m lyin?” She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “No no no we can’t be having that! Doll come here.”

Your expression as you looked at her told Jinx you in fact did not know who to believe. You’re corrupt emotions or your loving girlfriend? Either way you walked to her and stopped till you were in front of her. She quickly cupped your face and pulled you into a deep inviting kiss. Her hands roam softly along your body, gently holding and squeezing every part she loved.

She breaks away from the kiss and looks at you, her voice more serious than you’d like it to be. “Y/N you’re always going to be perfect to me, there’s no way in hell l’d ever be grossed out by you.” She leans in closer and softly leaves kisses along your collar “Besides I wanna love you. I wanna make you feel so crazy good you won’t even remember all your dumb troubles.”

Mel

MEL MEL MEL MEL MEL 😻 fancy rich lady who spoils you

While I do think she’ll still be super busy with work, she’ll most definitely make sure your body is been taken care of.

She lets the chef know your nutritional needs, taking notes you need more iron in your diet.

And when she does come home it’s all kisses, cuddles and praise getting sent your way!

Since she could remember, Mel could take care of just about anything. It didn’t matter if it was a delicate political negotiation or ensuring you felt cared for on your worst days, she had an effortless way of making you feel like the center of her world

The moment she left for the council meeting that morning, you heard her speaking quietly with the private chef, listing off ingredients and dietary adjustments with her usual precision. "She needs more iron," you overheard her say, her voice warm yet firm. "Spinach, lentils, maybe some lean meat. And add something sweet but not too high in sugar content. She deserves to enjoy herself, but make sure it stay healthy for my sake.

Hours later, as you lay curled up on the couch, a warm blanket draped over you, the scent of something savory wafted through the air. The chef had outdone himself, delivering a meal tailored exactly to what your body needed, paired with a small plate of indulgent chocolate covered fruits. It brought a soft smile to your lips. Mel always thought of everything, she always thought of you.

the front door finally opened, the sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor announced her arrival. You craned your neck to look at her, and the moment her golden eyes landed on you, her expression softened.

"There's my love," she murmured, setting her things aside and making a beeline for you.

"Hello darling, long day?" you asked, your voice soft.

"Not anymore," she replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before settling beside you on the couch. Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin. "How are you feeling? Did you eat?"

You nodded. "The food was perfect. Thank you for taking care of it."

“Oh? So you heard me did you?”She hummed in satisfaction, pulling you gently into her. Her arms wrapped around you snugly, her fingers trailing softly along your back in soothing patterns. "You've been so strong," she whispered. "But you don't have to be right now. Let me take care of you”

You melted into her embrace, feeling the tension in your body ease as she held you. "You deserve the world," she murmured, her voice full of affection. "And I intend to give it to you, one kiss or gentle word at a time. You will be shown my love”

ERM SO A LINE FROM JAYCE’S PART IS FROM XAVIER’S NEW CARD FROM LOVE AND DEEPSPACE! I recently pulled it and oh my god…. It’s been stuck in my mind…. ANYWAYS HOPE YOU ENJOYED

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a card : Lemme describe your bf\gf\fs\lover\crush :

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3 pile 4

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗 Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Masterlist \ pick a piles feedback

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

I also offer paid readings you can book one as it'll help me a lot and don't forget to check the free readings offer ✨

Pile एक

funny without trying

doesn't hide you from their friends

sometimes boastful

extremely popular

knows everything about you

extremely smart

sometimes sassy

loves to look after you

usually hungry

sometimes rude without knowing it

loves listening to rap

never at home

doesn't realise they're very hardworking

sometimes feels underrated

remembers everything about you

sometimes pessimistic

get your personalised readings

Pile दो

18+ read at your own consent

Reckless

very indecisive

always eating

a bit of a fattie :D

party boy

gives the best advice

yolo mindset

best outfit/music taste

Doesn't care what other think

JEALOUS AF

Loud af

Dom

"ooh, sexy"

"Babe"

"How do you feel?"

*SPANKS*

Horny 24/7

Your friends like his look but hates his personality

"Send Nu*es"

"Nice Ass"

BUYS EXPENSIVE SHITS TO EXPRESS HIS LOVE OR APOLOGIZE

LOYAL BUT HARDLY SAY NO FOR A GOOD ASS

huge book reader

obsessed with one girl

quiet but loud

comfort > style

with the right people

best secret keeper

get your personalised readings

Pile तीन

ALWAYS looking at you

acts goofier around you

warm hugs

sends "this reminded me of you" texts

remembers every single word you've ever said

princess gf - bf who does anything to see her happy "baby"

"that's cute"

"hmmm?"

falling asleep on call

You've good taste in music

gm and gn texts

holds hands with you

"i can't wait for our future together"

big hands

"doll"

"go ahead... what "speak up. "were you saying?"

"don't be shy"

-grabs inner thigh-

holds your chin up w/Index finger and rubs lower lip w/thumb while making eye contact

"when they smirk and lick their lips"

"eye contact"

madly needs your attention

always ready to fight for you

impulsive and stubborn

seems terrifying but he's a warm bean

"duuude"

doesn't like horror movies

gives and wants kissies all the time

moms love him

high pitched scream

always fails when he tries to intimidate you

does everything to make you feel safe

"yooo"

enjoys causing chaos

pretty good at video game

feels a lil insecure sometimes

has some chad energy

can be hella sassy

afraid of being put aside

get your personalised readings

Pile चार

super clingy

wants forehead kisses

loves to sit on ur lap

spoiled brat

cuddles

short

"call me your angel, anon!"

caring & sweet

veryyy emotional

always sleepy

"yes please"

will cry if yelled at

sub

"i love you, anon :("

apologizes 24/7

tall straight ADHD bf who loves games - 5'3 mentally ill gf who loves astrology

actually a huge nerd

protective af

secretly gay

super duper nice

very pretty eyes

insecure

music

lowkey clingy

og sk8r boy

loves 2 cuddle

likes plants a lot

old soul

probably the coolest person u will ever meet

loves cartoons

handsome af but also pretty af

baggy clothes

get your personalised readings

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰 I'd love to hear which pile you chose

Loads of love , jam🩷

[cherrygirlfriend]

───FAMILY DINNER ♡

♡ pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

♡ summary: rafe meets your parents for the first time.

♡ warnings / tags: fluff, angst, suggestive language, nudity, mentions of illness. wc: 2k

♡ author's note: inspired by @forgetmenotnympho request for rafe to meet reader’s family!! i hope you like it angel <3

PERVERT MASTERLIST ♡ 5K MASTERLIST

"don't be nervous. they're gonna love you." you smiled as you watched rafe mess around with his hair, his brows furrowed in concentration, "i'm not- i'm not nervous." he mumbled, yet his jaw was set in a clench, a permanent frown carved onto his lips.

"yeah?" you chuckle, getting out of his chair and walking over to stand behind rafe, tilting your head to the side as you looked at your reflections in the mirror, "not even a little bit? turn around."

rafe turned to look at you, and even though you were wearing heels, he was still taller than you. you combed your fingers through his hair while his blue eyes were stuck to you. "do you think i should wear contacts?" he mumbled, "you hate wearing contacts. you say they're itchy." "yeah, but-" "don't worry." you let your hands slide from rafe's hair to cup his cheeks, "my parents are gonna like you even if you accidentally fart in front of them."

finally, his lips lifted up a little bit, and you brought your hands to his shoulders as if brushing something off them, "so, when am i gonna meet your family? you rarely talk about them."

"uh, i dunno." rafe cleared his throat, turning around and pretending to straighten the collar of his shirt, but you knew him well enough to know that he was avoiding the subject; but you'd never been one to easily back down. "it's just your dad, your stepmom and sisters, right? i doubt they're that bad."

rafe let out a huff of a chuckle, "my sisters are fine. just my dad and rose can be a bit... much." "well." you take his hand in yours, "i promise that my parents are gonna like you just fine. they're so excited to meet you. i bet my mom's made like a five-dish course. and, if you get anxious, we can always sneak off into the bathroom and i can give you hea-" "okay!" rafe let out a soft chuckle, bringing his lips down to yours for a quick peck, pulling back to look down at you with a small smile.

you lifted your free hand, bringing the fist up to swiftly knock on the green door thrice before stepping back, your other hand still intertwined with rafe's. after a moment, the door was pulled open and you were met with your mother's smiling face.

"you know, you don't have to knock? you have your key." your mother raised her brows, only for you to shrug, letting go of your boyfriend's hand, stepping up to wrap your arms around your mother, the woman letting out a surprised huff, "i know. just thought this was more polite." you grin, squeezing her slightly before pulling away. rafe looked between you and your mother, fiddling where he stood. he pushed his glasses up slightly.

"mooom, this is rafe." you grinned, "rafe, this is my mother." your boyfriend held a hand out for your mother to shake, a tight smile on his lips. "hi, it's lovely to meet you, mrs-" rafe's sentence was cut off by your mother pulling him into a hug, the boy's eyes nearly bulging out of his head, unused to such affection.

"it's so lovely to meet you, rafe." your mother said as she pulled away from the hug, keeping her hands on the boy's forearms as she looked him over, your mother looking comically short next to the tall boy. after looking him over, she turned to you, a grin on her face, "he really is handsome."

"moooom." you whined; you could see a pink flush starting to creep onto rafe's cheeks as your mother let go of him, introducing herself to him. when rafe attemped to 'mrs' her, she simply shrugged it off, insisting that he call her by her first name.

"dinner will be ready soon. you two can go wait in the living room." your mom exclaimed, as she made her way back to the kitchen. you led rafe into the living room, your fingers intertwined with his. you spotted your father sitting in his armchair, a bottle of beer in one hand, his eyes fixed on the television.

"dad?" you mumbled, only to get no response. you cleared your throat, repeating yourself but now slightly louder, "dad." the man turned his gaze to you, looking between you and rafe, you cleared your throat, a tight smile on your lips. "dad, meet rafe. rafe, meet my dad."

when rafe reached out his hand for your father to shake, your father simply narrowed his eyes and looked down at rafe's hand, before taking his beer and bringing it to his lips with a low "hey." turning back to the tv without any more acknowledgement of your presence. you simply took rafe's outstretched hand in yours, leading him out of the living room and back into the hallway.

"i'm... i'm confused. did i do something wrong?" rafe mumbled, his brows set in an adorable furrow, "no, no... my dad's just... like that." "like what?" "a dick?" you grinned and raised your brows, a small chuckle leaving rafe's lips at your assessment of your father. you took his free hand in yours, making the boy face you, "but my mom likes you." you straightened rafe's collar, "she loves little church boys like you." "church boys?" "i mean, you look like a church boy." you shrugged, "if she only knew the things i get you to do to me in the bedroom. all the posit-" "alright, alright!" rafe huffed, "don't be crude." "don't make me want to be crude."

when it was finally time for dinner, your fingers were intertwined with rafe's under the table, his ambidexterity coming in hand. "so, rafe." your father said gruffly, more focused on his food than your boyfriend, "what are your plans?"

your mother tutted her lips, gently smacking the back of her hand on her husband's chest, before turning to face rafe, "what he meant to ask, is what are you studying for? what do you want to do?" she smiled, bringing her glass of red wine to her lips and taking a sip, her keen eyes staying on your boyfriend.

rafe chewed the food that was still in his mouth and swallowed before answering your mother, "i'm studying to be a scientist." "a scientist!" she exclaimed, a satisfied smile on her face, "you must be smart." "he's the smartest guy in our year." you smiled, turning to face rafe, squeezing his hand. "y-yeah. i mean. based on the grades."

your mom practically squeals, "i've always wanted a smart son-in-law." she cooed, rafe's cheeks getting redder. you rolled your eyes, once again squeezing his hand, "wouldn't you rather be with someone who has similar goals?" your father asked rafe in a gruff voice, the demeaning tone in his voice causing you to bow your head down, loosening your grip on rafe's hand.

"let's not talk about this right now..." "talk about what?" your father scoffed, taking a chug out of his beer, "how we're paying for our daughter to get a damn liberal arts degree just so she can waste it on a fuckin' pipe dream?"

rafe's eyes were on you, meanwhile your eyes were on your lap, tears blurring your vision. "what, you think she's gonna be an actress?" your father started slurring, getting up from his seat, "she's gonna work at the starbucks 'round the corner."

"alright, i think you've had enough to dr-"

"you're nothin' but a damn disappointment, you know?" your father scoffs, then points towards rafe, "your little boyfriend is gonna leave you for someone who actually has a brain."

you let out a soft sniffle, your father stumbling out of the dining room as your mother practically guided him out. "are... are you okay?" rafe mumbled, but when you didn't answer, the boy got out of his chair, kneeling next to you. you didn't move an inch from the chair, but he still pulled you into his arms, soft sobs leaving your lips as you buried your face in rafe's hair. "'m sorry, 'm sorry..." you mumbled, "i know 'm not like this..." you cried, holding onto him even tighter.

"shhh... don't apologize." rafe whispered, stroking your hair, "you're alright... you're alright..."

rafe pressed his eyes closed as he held you close; he couldn't understand how the words of a single person managed to make the strongest, most... charismatic, spiritful woman he knew... crumble like that. and it scared him more than anything.

the entire drive back to campus was quiet. the entire walk to rafe's dorm room was quiet; and as soon as you got into the room, you faced a wall, and the only thing to be heard was the sound of the zipper of your dress coming undone, of the fabric falling to the floor...

this wasn't you.

you didn't get undressed facing the wall as if your body was something to be ashamed of. you'd bite your lip, looking at him seductively, slowly sliding the zipper down, rafe's eyes widening when your dress fell to the floor...

rafe was dressed in nothing but his boxers when he came up to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. you let out a breath that felt like you'd been holding it in for a lifetime, pressing yourself closer into rafe's chest.

"do you want to sleep naked again?" rafe mumbled, pressing a kiss on your shoulder. you nodded, and without another word, rafe's hands unclasped your bra, and they started to slide down your arms. as soon as they did, rafe got down on one knee, sliding your panties down your legs. you lifted one foot up off the floor, and then the other, allowing your boyfriend to take your underwear off.

rafe pressed kisses to the back of your calves that caused shivers to run down your spine, his actions continuing all the way up your leg until he landed right under your ass cheek. he softly smacked your ass, the fatty flesh bouncing in a way that made you let out a soft giggle.

you turned to face rafe, pulling the waistband of his boxers back before releasing it, a small moan leaving rafe's lips as it made contact with his skin; and without another word, he was out of his boxers. soon enough, the two of you were laying in rafe's bed, the blanket over your heads, your fingers intertwined with his as you two whispered everything and nothing to one another.

"i'm sorry my dad was like that..." you whispered, rubbing the back of rafe's hand, "why are you apologizing? he's the one who should apologize for being a dick." you let out a huff of a laugh at his choice of words, mimicking yours, "it's not your fault. parents can be a lot."

"is your dad a lot?"

"he is." rafe took in a deep breath, "we don't really talk." "how come?" "he... doesn't agree with my choice of studies. he would've preferred if i went to business school and took our family business over..."

"family business?" you furrowed your brows, your boyfriend pursing his lips, "okay, so..." rafe takes in a deep breath, "my dad might be a bit rich." even though a part of you wanted to say a snarky comment, you simply squeezed his hand, "and he wanted me to go to business school, so that i could take over our family business."

rafe's eyes were strictly on your hands, the steely pair of eyes clearly avoiding your gaze, "but when i told him i wanted to study to become a scientist, he flipped out."

"how... how come?"

rafe looked up from your interconnected eyes back up to your eyes, "i know it's not likely for it to happen, but the reason i wanted to become a scientist..." rafe sighed, "it's 'cause i want to find a cure for what killed my mom. or at least help patients to prolong their lives."

your brows raised, nearly on their own.

"leukemia."

oh.

"i know it's not likely, but i at least want to try and advance the research on it. or a find a way to prolong the patients' life." you brought your hand to rafe's cheek, pressing your naked body closer to his, "i'm a realist who borders on being a pessimist." you press a small peck on his lips, whispering the next words, "but i believe you can do it."

"yeah?" rafe whispred, looking at you as if searching your eyes for confirmation.

"yes."

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[erenists]

Nerd!Gojo X Bimbo Reader

Part 5 MDNI 18+

“Wait— how did you know my name?” as that question spills out he realizes he doesn't know your name either. You turn around flashing him a big grin before winking and giving him a little shush signal before walking off again.

After Gojo had gotten home from school he immediately took out the piece of paper you handed him with your number in it. He exhaled softly not believing he actually has your number and he barely had to do much.

He quickly moves his fingers across his phone screen inserting your number he didn't even stop to think about how to text you he was too excited to finally get to text you.

XXX-XX: hey it's Gojo :) I realized I never got your name btw.. So what should I save you as.. oh and here's my address XXXXXXXXX you can come at 5!

He throws his phone to the side as soon as he sends you that text flustered and nervous to see if you'll respond. His eyes widen and he tenses when only a few seconds later he already hears his phone ping.

XXX-XX: hiii gojo sweetie ;)

sorry about completely forgetting to give you my name whoops it's 𐙚˙⋆.˚  make sure to put a cute heart next to it!!

Gojooo :3 💙: DW it's fine!! I'm glad to have it now.. it's a beautiful name :)

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🩷 : aweee gojo you little flirt! ty cutie piee can't wait to see u toniteee 😘😘

Gojo smiles giddily like a middle school girl with her crush he hearts your message and swipes out of the app looking at the time in the corner of his screen, 3:02 He had enough time to clean and make sure he looks good, not for you but for himself he tries to convince himself.

He's looking at himself through the mirror fixing up his hair making sure no strands are sticking out weirdly he also makes sure to check his breath because well he never knows maybe he might get some action tonight. Gojo checks himself out making sure he's ready to have you over meanwhile you are in your room quite frankly doing the same.

You're applying lip gloss, your lips slightly parted as you sit in front of your vanity mirror. You look to the side looking at the notification from Gojo, he didn't reply, just liked your message but you still appreciated the notification anyways. you press your lips together getting up from your seat walking to your full body mirror.

You look at your outfit smirking at yourself proudly, it's not much really, just a very cute jean mini skirt and a tight white tank top that showed a peak of your blue lace bra which pushed your tits up deliciously and you topped your outfit off with a little sweater that matched the color of your bra.

"perfect m'sure he'll like this" You muttered to yourself running your hands over your body checking yourself out before heading over to your vanity once more and spraying yourself with your favorite perfume that always had you smelling nice. You picked your phone up you noticed you still had 30 minutes left and you thought to yourself why not show up a little early anyway.

-

Gojo swears his heart dropped when he heard the doorbell ring he looked at the time on his phone, it was only 4:45 meaning you were 15 minutes early NOT what Gojo was expecting but not that he minded anyways he wanted to see you again as soon as possible.

He practically tripped over himself rushing to the door, wiping his hands on his sweats one last time and running a hand through his hair as if that would somehow make him look cooler. When he opened the door, he tried to play it off with a lazy smile—but the second his eyes landed on you, it faltered.

“Holy shit,” he breathed before he could even stop himself.

There you were, standing on his doorstep with that teasing little smirk, your jean skirt hugging your hips and that snug white tank giving him an eye-full he absolutely wasn’t ready for. The little sweater draped over your arms made it look like you hadn’t even tried—but Gojo knew better. That kind of outfit was lethal, and you knew it too.

“Hey, Gojo,” you sing-songed, stepping past him like you owned the place. Your perfume hit him like a truck and he actually had to close his eyes for a second just to collect himself.

“You’re early,” he managed to say, shutting the door behind you. His voice cracked at the end. Great.

You turned, hands behind your back as you rocked on your heels. “Mhm. I figured we could get started sooner…” you trailed off, biting your glossed lip slightly as your gaze drifted down his body. “Unless you weren’t ready for me yet?”

He blinked, cheeks flushing despite his grin. “I—pfft, of course I’m ready! I’ve got the whole session planned out, down to the last equation,” he said, tapping the side of his head like he was a genius.

You cocked your head. “Oh? Equations, huh? Hope you’re better at math than I am Im literally the worst at it"

He softly laughed. “c'mon you can't be that bad, I promise as your tutor you'll be even better at math than me.”

“Well,” you said, placing your hand on his bicep looking up at him through your lashes “if you claim to be a good tutor… why don’t you teach me something already, Gojo?”

He stared at you for a second too long before finally speaking “r-right uh follow me to my room!” he chirped before turning around walking towards his room, you look around as you both step in observing everything in his room like his nerdy anime and digimon posters, his assorted collection of figures to your surprise he even had a gaming pc.

"wow Gojo so you're like a decked out nerd huh?" You smirk plopping down on his bed

"uhh yeah I guess you could say that" you assume Gojo must be blushing because he’s embarrassed about you seeing all his nerdy things but actually he's blushing because when you plopped onto his bed your skirt rode up just a little. what a perv. He looks away from your figure and grabs the material he prepared for today plopping down next to you.

"Ok..so tell me what you're more confused about in math and I'll try my best to help you through it.." He says sheepishly as he feels your eyes on him, your smirk at that last part deciding to be a little tease.

"yeah? you'll help me through it Gojoo~?" You press yourself against the side of him tilting your head and smirking slyly at him he gulps before looking down at you and nodding with uncertainty not 100% sure on what you're getting at.

Gojo clears his throat, clearly trying to act normal, like he isn’t hyper-aware of the way your thigh is brushing against his or how your perfume keeps sneaking up his nose and messing with his head.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, trying to steady his voice, “like… equations. Fractions. Graphs. Whatever’s giving you trouble.” You lean in closer, pretending to glance at the notes he laid out, but your lips are dangerously close to his ear now.

“Mmm… I think it’s graphs that really get me,” you murmur, voice soft, sultry. “All those hard lines and curves… I can never quite figure out what to do with them.” Gojo almost chokes on his own spit.

His hands scramble for a pencil as he flips open the textbook in front of him, trying to physically shield himself with the material like it’s some kind of defense.

“Right! Graphs! Okay cool, cool cool cool—so this is, uh, a parabola…” You giggle quietly and lean your chin in your hand, blinking up at him like he’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“you’re cute when you get all nervous, y’know.”

“I’m not nervous,” he lies—terribly—his voice cracking at the end.

“mhm. sure you’re not.” You let your knee bump into his under the pretense of adjusting your position, but you don’t move it away. Your skirt has slid up again, and this time you don’t bother fixing it. You watch as Gojo’s eyes flicker down for just a second before jerking away, his jaw tight.

He shifts uncomfortably, suddenly sitting more rigidly. “Okay, s-so the x-axis goes here,” he mumbles, pointing to the graph. “And if you plug in the numbers—”

“Gojo,” you interrupt, voice slow and syrupy as you reach forward and rest your hand over his on the page, “I’m trying really hard to focus. But you’re making it kinda hard.”

Gojo’s head snaps to you, eyes wide. “Me?? I’m making it hard??”

You just smile and trace a lazy circle on the back of his hand with your fingertip. “Mhm. You just have that effect, y’know?”

He swears he short-circuits. His brain completely blanks—he’s forgotten what a parabola is, what numbers are, who he is.

“W-we should really get through this lesson,” he mutters, practically begging the universe to give him strength. His voice is shaky, but there’s a little edge of something else in there too. Something hungry.

You hum. “sure. Go ahead, teacher. I’m all ears.” But your smirk says otherwise. He starts explaining again, hand still trembling under yours, and you let him—for now. Every time he gets even slightly more confident, you lean a little closer, let your chest brush his arm, let your eyes wander just enough to make him stutter all over again. Gojo tries to stay focused. Really, he does. He’s clutching the pencil like it’s a lifeline, his other hand gripping the edge of the textbook so hard his knuckles go white. He’s halfway through explaining how to find the vertex of the parabola, and you’re… well, you’re definitely not helping.

You tilt your head, your lashes fluttering as you lean forward again—pretending to squint at the page, but you know exactly what you’re doing. The strap of your tank top slips just a little, falling off your shoulder. You don’t fix it.

Gojo’s eyes darted to it, then back to the book. Then back again. “Uh—so—when a is negative the graph opens, uh… downward…”

You smile like a cat who knows they’ve got the mouse cornered. “Downward, huh? kay think I get it” You rest your hand on his thigh looking at the graph.

“You’re killing me,” he mutters under his breath, pushing his fingers through his hair as his face burns.

“what?” you blink innocently. “I’m just trying to understand the material. You said you’d help me.” You scoot just a little closer and remove your hand. Now your thigh is pressed fully against his, warm and bare and impossible to ignore. Gojo freezes like a deer in headlights.

“W-we can… review another example,” he says, flipping the page too fast and nearly tearing it. He’s clinging to this tutoring session like it’s his last thread of dignity.

“Great idea.” You rest your chin on his shoulder now, peeking at the book over his arm. Your breath fans lightly against his neck and you feel the shiver run through him.

“You smell good,” you murmur offhandedly, like it’s just a casual little observation. “Like soap. And something else… is that cologne?”He swallows hard, ears turning red.

“Uhh. Yeah. Maybe. Just a little.”You smile to yourself, your voice low and warm.

“It’s nice. Makes me wanna get closer.” Gojo’s hand slips, dragging the pencil across the page in a messy line.

“O-oh, cool, coolcoolcool. Totally normal thing to say,” he rambles, trying and failing to focus. “You really are bad at math, by the way.”

You grin. “Mhm. I know. Guess that means we’ll need a lot more tutoring sessions, huh?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, dazed. “I think I’m in trouble.” he mutters to himself but you end up hearing it anyway. You hum, leaning back just a bit, the warmth of your body pulling away.

“Maybe. But only if you stop being such a good teacher, Gojo~” He’s barely holding it together. Every brush of your skin, every word laced with suggestion, it’s like a slow drip of gasoline on an open flame. He’s this close to combusting.

But for now, he nods, forces a grin, and mutters, “A-alright. Next problem…” You glance up at him through your lashes again. He’s fidgeting—his leg bouncing a little, his pencil tapping the page like it might save him. But it won’t.

Not with you this close. Not with your skirt riding high up your thighs, the scent of your perfume wrapping around his senses, and your eyes locked on his mouth more than the textbook. You wait a beat longer. Just to watch him squirm.

Then, without warning, you lift your hand and slowly slide it over his thigh—not high enough to be bold, but just enough to jolt him. Gojo freezes.

“Y-you okay?” he asks, voice cracking hard. He’s staring straight ahead, but you can feel the way his breath catches in his throat.

You tilt your head. “Yeah. Just trying to get comfortable,” you say sweetly. “You don’t mind, do you?”

His lips part like he wants to say something—anything—but no words come out. He glances down at your hand on his thigh, your bare skin pressed against his, the little peek of your bra still visible and you can practically see him sweating bullets.

“okay but..” Gojo says suddenly, tossing the pencil down with a soft thud. “You’re not even trying to study.”

You blink innocently. “Sure I am.”

“You're lying." he says, turning to you, and now his voice is different—low, frayed, a little breathless. “You’ve been messing with me this whole time.” You smirk, leaning in so your faces are inches apart.

“Maybe. But you liked it.” He swallows, eyes flicking to your mouth. You see the exact moment he gives in.

In one quick motion, Gojo leans in and kisses you—soft at first, like he’s afraid he’s imagining this, but when you melt into it, he groans low in his throat and deepens the kiss. His hand slides to your waist, gripping tight like he’s been dying to touch you since the second you walked through his door.

You gasp a little, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and that’s all it takes—he pushes you back gently onto the bed, hovering over you now, eyes wild and wide with need.

“You’re such a bad student” he murmurs against your lips, breathing hot. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” You grin against his mouth, heart racing.

“Yeah? if im such a bad student what are you gonna do about it, Gojo?” that has him practically whining, God he thought you were so hot.

“D-don’t say stuff like that~ it’s too tempting…” he mumbles, voice wobbling like he’s hanging on by a thread. He’s looking anywhere but your face—down at your lips, your hand on his thigh, the inch of blue lace peeking from under your tank. Anywhere but your eyes.

You lean in, your voice a sultry whisper against his ear. “Tempting…? So you’ve thought about this, huh?”

Gojo makes a noise in his throat—somewhere between a whine and a gasp—and squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to delete the whole situation from his memory before it breaks him. “Th-that’s not what I meant—! I mean, I have, b-but—like, not in a creepy way! Just in a normal, completely average way! Like a guy would!”

You laugh quietly, and that does nothing to help the pink spreading across his cheeks. “You’re adorable,” you murmur, dragging your fingers up his chest slowly, watching his breath hitch with every inch.

His head flops back with a groan, glasses sliding slightly down his nose. “You’re seriously gonna kill me,” he mumbles.

You hum thoughtfully. “I mean, I could stop. Go back to learning about… parabolas or whatever.”

Gojo’s eyes snapped open, panicked. “No—! I mean. Y-you don’t have to stop exactly, just maybe slow down a little or I might—” He cuts himself off, pressing the heels of his hands to his burning face. “God. This is not how I thought tutoring you would go.”

You giggle and shift in his lap just slightly—enough to make him physically twitch. “Guess you should’ve made me study harder.”

He makes the most pitiful noise you’ve ever heard. “You’re evil.”

You smile sweetly, tilting your head. “But I’m your favorite, right?”

“…Yes. Obviously. Unfortunately. Please have mercy.”

You giggle at his barely-whispered plea for mercy and lean forward again, your fingers skimming just beneath the hem of his hoodie like you’re testing how far you can go before he breaks.

“Mercy, huh?” you murmur, brushing your lips barely against his jawline. “Didn’t take you for the begging type, Gojo.”

He lets out a sound that might’ve been a whimper, his whole body tensing like he’s holding on to the last shred of self-control he has left. “I’m not—I mean I am—but only because you’re being mean,” he blurts out, voice cracking. “You’re cheating. This is cheating.”

You pretend to be confused, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Cheating? But I’m just trying to learn…”

“You’re not learning anything!” he practically explodes, hands flying up in exasperation, then immediately dropping as he realizes he’s yelling. “You’ve been driving me insane since you got here and—oh my god—I can’t think straight, you smell good, your boobs are out, and you’re touching me and you’re so close and I haven’t even finished writing the example problem and—!”

You cut him off by kissing the corner of his mouth, not quite a kiss, just enough to knock the wind out of him. “Then stop thinking.”

His breath hitches again—he swears he could combust on the spot. You can see it in the way his thighs tense under yours, in the way his fingers dig into the edge of the bed like he’s trying not to grab you. He wants to. So bad.

“But if I stop thinking,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m gonna do something stupid. And you’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I won’t laugh,” you promise, dragging your nails gently up his arm. “Unless you're secretly into it....” He full-body shudders.

“You’re actually insane.” You smile, eyes sparkling. “And yet you still haven’t told me to stop.”

“I can’t tell you to stop,” he blurts. “I literally can’t. You could say anything right now and I’d fold like a pathetic lawn chair.”

“Anything?” you purr, nosing up against his ear. You can feel him trembling. “Like if I said ‘I want you to touch me, Gojo’…?”

He whines. Like, actually whines, head dropping forward onto your shoulder as his hands finally come to rest on your waist—tight, needy, but still so nervous you can feel the tension buzzing through him.

“You’re not fair,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. “You’re not playing fair.”

You run your fingers through the soft white strands of his hair and smile, leaning in close to whisper against his temple, “Good thing this isn’t a game then… or you’d already have lost.”

His breath hitches at your words and he stays still, trembling, like he’s deciding whether to run or melt right into you. But it’s already over. His fingers twitch against your waist, gripping harder now, and when he lifts his head, there’s a glassy look in his eyes—unfocused, lust-drunk, and desperate.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters. “I was just trying to explain linear motion. That’s all I wanted. Now my brain’s—fuck—I can’t even remember how to spell velocity.”

You lean in until your lips are brushing his featherlight. “Good. Then maybe take a break from studying and indulge in me hm?”

His mouth crashes against yours in a messy, frantic kiss, all teeth and tongue. His glasses are skewed, his hoodie pulled taut between your bodies as he grips your hips and drags you down flush against the hardness straining in his sweats. He groans into your mouth like it hurts—like he’s been this hard since you walked in and it’s finally breaking him.

“God, you’re so—so—pretty, and mean, and smart, and mean,” he babbles between kisses, one hand sliding up under your top, shaky and reverent as he finally touches skin. “I was trying to be professional, I swear, I had notes and everything—”

You roll your hips down into his lap and he chokes, head falling back, lips parted. His cock twitches against you, leaking through his sweats.

“This is what you wanted, right?” you whisper, dragging your fingers down the front of his chest, his stomach jumping under your touch.

“Me on your lap, distracting you. Being such a baddd student, hmm??" He whimpers, nodding like he’s trying to keep his sanity through sheer willpower.

“I’m not gonna last,” he says weakly. “I’m—if you keep moving like that, I’m gonna—gonna come in my pants like some desperate virgin loser—”

“Gojo,” you say softly, smiling as you palm him through his sweats. He gasps, body jerking. “That’s because you are a desperate virgin loser.”

He moans. Full-body, high-pitched, humiliated. “Oh my god.”

“But,” you murmur, shifting to tug down the waistband of his sweats just enough to free him, his cock flushed and twitching in your hand, “you’re my desperate loser now, right?”

His eyes roll back as you stroke him, his hips bucking helplessly into your fist. “Y-Yeah. Fuck. Yours. Just—just don’t stop. I’ll do anything, just don’t stop—”

And when you sink down onto him, slow and tight, squeezing him inch by inch until he’s fully inside, he clutches at you like he’s drowning, sobbing out your name like a prayer.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. “You feel so good—I-I’m not gonna make it—I’m gonna—oh god, I’m gonna come already—” "Mm..Gojo you're filling me up s-so well im so happy u-ugh been wanting this." You moan out into his ear and he whimpers loudly at that stiffening under you.

"W-what agh- do you mean you've fuckfuckfuck been wanting this?" You're kissing all over him before finally pulling back in a complete daze over him.

"G-gojo Ive mphh- wanted you since I saw you on the first week of school this y-year I fuck — Heard a teacher calling you Gojo w-while praising your work and you just looked so cuuteee~ needed to have you" Your arms are wrapped around his neck and Gojo swears he's seeing stars. so that's how you knew his name — wait you knew him before he even knew about you?

"D-don't hafta call me agh Gojo anymore just call me sat-agh satoru~" He draws out his eyes rolled back and his knuckles white with how hard he's gripping onto you, you look down at him and grin your hips grinding on him.

"T-toru m'close cum with me please?" You whine out your movement getting faster and faster being too much for Gojo to handle. "C-cum on me baby~ im right there pleasepleaseplease give it to me ugh you're so pretty" He cant shut the fuck up begging you to cum on him as hes so close to reaching his high.

One final snap of your hips and you both break. Loud, helpless, completely ruined. It hits him hard, his whole body jerking beneath you as he spills deep inside, voice cracking with every breathless moan of your name. And even as he twitches and throbs, face buried in your neck, he clings to you like he’s never letting go.

"god..that was a-amazing t-thank you.." you smile softly and lay your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat.

"no need to thank me toru hun.. but this makes me your girlfriend now right?" You blink up at him and he wraps his arms around you tight, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

"definitely you're not going anywhere."

A/n: ok guys so basically.. this is the last part.. I KNOW IM SORRY but this is not the last of nerdjo.. i will be making more nerdjo series and just nerdjo content because I fear im hyperfixated on him atm.. I hope you guys enjoyed this mini series and this part :3

[blissfulflw]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝐴f𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠

Pairing- Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem reader

Genre- Smut, Fluff

Word count- 6899

Warnings- 18+ interactions only, G!p Jimin, dom Jimin, mean Jimin, oral, semi public, power imbalance, degration, aftercare, NSFW

A/N: Might’ve gotten a bit too into it but yk it’s yu Jimin who wouldn’t..

You weren’t supposed to be here.

Detention was for kids who didn’t care, who skipped class or smoked in the bathrooms or backtalked teachers with a smirk. You? You were the type who raised your hand too much. Who did extra credit “just in case.” Who ate lunch in the library because even the nerd table didn’t bother inviting you anymore.

But one stupid accident with the fire alarm and a Bunsen burner—and suddenly you were here. Sitting stiff in a too-small desk at the back of room 3-C, hugging your worn hoodie closer, trying not to glance at her.

Yu Jimin.

Legs stretched wide. Black skirt hiked dangerously high. One AirPod in. Not even pretending to do anything productive. Just chewing gum, phone glowing low in her palm, looking bored in the way only someone truly untouchable could.

She wasn’t just hot. That would’ve been easy to ignore.

She was terrifyingly hot. Rumors about her dripped through the halls like syrup. That she got head in the bathroom during finals week. That she made the soccer captain cry once—after hooking up with her. That she’d been suspended last semester for fighting a guy, and won.

And then there was you.

Pathetic little you, who squeaked when she brushed past you in the hallway. Who accidentally bumped into her in gym last month and apologized so hard you nearly cried. Who definitely didn’t stare at her mouth when she chewed her gum or her thighs when she sat like she owned the room.

You dropped your gaze to your notebook. Tried to focus. Pretend the air wasn’t buzzing with heat. That your thighs weren’t clenching.

A low scoff cut through the silence.

“Are you really trying to study in detention?” Jimin’s voice was thick with mockery, sharp and low like a blade sliding between your ribs.

You stiffened, fingers curling around your pen.

“I—I was just—”

“You know this isn’t gonna make you less of a loser, right?” she said, kicking one booted foot up onto the desk across from her. “God. You really are cute, though. All jumpy and awkward like some kicked puppy.”

You flushed, mortified. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. “I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to—”

“Trying to impress me?” she cut in smoothly, finally lifting her gaze from her phone. Her eyes gleamed. “Don’t bother. I don’t do pathetic.”

You swallowed hard. Said nothing. Prayed she’d lose interest.

But instead, she stood.

Your stomach dropped as she sauntered over, slow and deliberate, like a predator taking her time. She stopped right beside your desk, hands sliding into the pockets of her skirt. The scent of her perfume hit you hard—dark, floral, expensive.

“You always this twitchy, or is it just me?” she asked, leaning down a little, voice a near-whisper. “Because every time I look at you, you get all pink and shaky like a virgin in a porno.”

You stared at your notebook, mortified. You could feel her smirk, even if you didn’t look.

Then—

A hand. Cool fingers curling under your chin. Forcing your face up to meet her gaze.

“You got a crush on me, loser?”

Silence. Heat. Your throat locked.

She laughed—low and cruel.

“Wow. That’s adorable.”

You should’ve shoved her hand away. Should’ve said something sharp, walked out, anything.

Instead, your thighs pressed together involuntarily—and she noticed.

Her eyes dropped, and her grin widened, predatory and amused.

“Well,” she said, straightening, “this just got interesting.”

She didn’t leave.

Instead, Jimin stepped around your desk, casually dragging the back of her fingers along its edge, like she was inspecting it—and you—with bored curiosity. Her presence loomed behind you, and every hair on your neck stood up.

“You really brought homework to detention,” she muttered, amused. “God, you’re precious.”

Your breath caught as she leaned over your shoulder. Her perfume was dizzying. You tried to hide the way your pen trembled in your hand, but she noticed that too.

“What is this?” she asked, flicking the top page of your worksheet with a finger. “Calculus? No wonder you’re so uptight.”

You opened your mouth, tried to say something—anything—but she was already sliding your books aside, scattering your neat little stack of papers like they were trash.

“H-Hey—”

“Relax,” she murmured, voice suddenly right at your ear. “You’ll survive ten minutes without extra credit.”

A few pages fluttered to the floor. Your pen clattered as she pushed it gently out of your grip. You froze, hands limp in your lap now, too aware of how close her front was to your back. The desk creaked as she leaned down more, pressing one hand beside yours, the other landing firmly on your knee.

“Tell me the truth,” she said. “You ever been touched like that?”

You blinked hard, blood pounding. “W-What—”

She laughed again—low, mean, and almost delighted.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

She leaned in so close, her lips nearly brushed your ear. “You ever get wet just from someone talking to you like this? From someone being a little mean?”

Your cheeks burned. She didn’t even wait for your answer.

Her hand slid higher on your thigh, slow and deliberate under the hem of your skirt. You squeaked, instinctively grabbing the edge of the desk.

“Y’know,” she went on, fingers teasing just beneath the fabric, “most girls don’t bring math homework to detention. But you? You’re just begging for someone to ruin all this good-girl bullshit.”

Your voice cracked when you whispered, “Jimin…”

She made a noise in the back of her throat—low and approving.

“Ohhh, that’s cute. Say it again.”

You bit your lip, barely able to breathe. The way she was crowding you, how her thigh now pressed between yours from behind, made your thoughts go fuzzy. The papers on your desk were crumpled now, shoved aside like they didn’t matter. Like they never had.

Because all that mattered now was her—her hand, her voice, and the slow way she rocked her hips against your chair.

“Bet you’ve thought about this,” she said, now grinding just enough for you to feel something hard beneath her skirt. “About someone taking your books away. Spreading you out on this desk. Making you cry for real—not ‘cause of a B+, but ‘cause you’re stuffed so full you can’t even think.”

Your breath hitched.

“Should I show you?” she asked. Her voice dropped, a whisper that burned hot in your core. “Should I make you mine, right here on top of your precious homework?”

_____

Your voice caught in your throat.

You should’ve said no. Should’ve done something—moved, protested, anything. But your body betrayed you first, thighs clenching instinctively around hers, your breathing shallow and hitched. The answer was written all over your skin—flushed, trembling, soaked through your underwear.

Jimin knew.

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured, smirking as her hand slid higher, fingers brushing the edge of your panties under your skirt. “Soaked already, huh? You’re seriously that desperate for it?”

Her fingers grazed your clothed slit, and your whole body jolted.

She laughed softly, dark and mean. “Fucking adorable.”

With one hand still pressed flat beside your hip, she used the other to shove aside your remaining papers—your messy, scribbled math notes and the half-finished extra credit worksheet—until your desk was mostly clear. Then she moved fast.

“Stand up.”

You hesitated—just for a second. That was all she needed.

Suddenly her hand was in your hair, yanking gently but firmly, making your spine arch as you gasped.

“I said, stand.” She looked down at you, her voice quiet but cutting. “Or do you want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you like a bitch in heat while your little math homework soaks up your moans?”

You scrambled to your feet, legs trembling, heart hammering like a caged animal.

The desk dug into your thighs as she turned you and bent you forward with a single, dominant push. Your palms slapped against the surface—papers crinkling under your fingers.

Then you heard it: the low, unmistakable click of her belt.

“W-Wait,” you breathed, panicked and turned on beyond reason. “You… you have a—?”

Jimin leaned down, her breath hot on your neck as she whispered, “Didn’t expect the rumors to be true, huh, baby?”

She pressed her hips forward. Something thick and hard rubbed against the curve of your ass, straining under her skirt.

“I don’t fuck around,” she purred. “And tonight, neither do you.”

Your head dropped to your arms. Your panties were tugged down in one rough motion, the cold air hitting your slick core like a shock. Then—warm fingers spreading you open. Teasing. Testing.

“Fuck,” she muttered behind you, almost reverently. “Look at this mess. You really needed this, huh?”

You let out a broken sound when her cock—not silicone, real, hot and leaking—pressed against your entrance.

“Hope you’re ready, loser,” Jimin whispered, lining herself up. “I’m not stopping ‘til you’re ruined.”

And then she pushed in.

It was slow at first—stretching, burning, splitting you open with each inch. You whined, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the desk. But she didn’t stop. Just kept sliding in, groaning under her breath as your walls fluttered helplessly around her.

When she bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, she leaned in close again. Her hand slid between your legs, stroking lazily as she murmured in your ear:

“Now be a good girl and take it. Just like I know you’ve been fantasizing about every time you saw me in the halls.”

Then she pulled back—and started to fuck you in earnest.

Her hips snapped forward again, driving into you with sharp, perfect rhythm. Your breath caught on every thrust, moans spilling from your mouth without your permission. It was too much, too deep, too good—your brain short-circuiting under the weight of sensation.

Jimin groaned, low and breathless. “Fuck. You clench like you’re in love with me or something.”

Your cheeks flamed. You wanted to deny it—wanted to say something, but all that came out was a whimper as she slammed into you again, harder this time. The desk creaked. Your notes were damp with sweat and spit, crumpled under your hands like the last remnants of a version of you that no longer existed.

She leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, her mouth back at your ear—close enough that you could feel the smirk in every word.

“Bet you’ve never had anyone talk to you like this,” she whispered, breath hot. “No one’s ever made you feel like this, huh?”

You shook your head weakly, tears stinging your lashes.

“That’s what I thought,” she cooed. “All that good-girl crap. All those little A+ grades and cute-ass pencil cases. What a waste.”

She rocked her hips slow—deep—drawing out every trembling whine from your lips before snapping forward again.

“You’re so much better like this, baby,” she murmured. “Bent over. Full of cock. Dumb and messy and mine.”

You let out a cracked, broken moan—and that made her chuckle.

“There it is,” she whispered. “My perfect little loser. Melting all over my dick like you were made to get ruined by me.”

Her hand curled around your throat—not choking, just holding—just reminding you who was in control.

“I see you now,” she said, voice gentler than it had any right to be. “All those stupid, desperate stares in the hallway? You could’ve just said you wanted this. Could’ve told me you wanted to be my personal stress relief.”

Another slow, punishing thrust. You choked on a sob.

“I’d have bent you over weeks ago, babe.”

You didn’t recognize the noise you made when her fingers slid down again, brushing your clit in tight, perfect circles that made your legs tremble.

“Don’t worry,” she breathed, pressing kisses to your shoulder like they were sweet when they were anything but. “You’re mine now. No more homework. No more lonely lunches. Just me, and this perfect little body.”

Your moans were almost sobs now. Your thighs shook. You were close—so close—and she knew.

“Gonna cum for me?” she whispered, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. “Gonna make a mess all over your fucking desk, like a needy little toy?”

She didn’t even wait for your answer.

“You better. You better cum for me, baby, or I’ll fuck you until your legs stop working.”

You came so hard, your vision blurred.

Your orgasm hit like a wave you didn’t see coming—sudden, overwhelming, stealing the air from your lungs. Your legs buckled, mouth open in a silent cry as your body trembled beneath her.

Jimin didn’t slow.

She rode it out, dragging out every aftershock with deep, possessive thrusts that left you gasping, squirming—raw. Your walls clenched around her, slick and spasming, making her hiss through her teeth.

“Fuck,” she groaned, grip tightening on your hips. “You’re gonna kill me with this pussy.”

She thrust once, twice more—then buried herself deep, a shudder rolling through her chest against your back. You felt her cock twitch inside you, and then warmth. She stayed like that for a moment, letting her weight rest against you, her breath fanning hot across your neck.

The classroom was quiet now, except for your ragged breathing and the faint creak of the desk beneath your slumped body.

Then—softly, unexpectedly—Jimin pressed a kiss behind your ear. Not teasing. Not mocking.

Just… warm.

“Damn,” she muttered. “You really were made for this.”

You made a broken noise in response—something between a laugh and a sob. Your legs felt like jelly. Your face was wet. You were drooling onto your own fucking homework.

She noticed. Of course she did.

“Aww,” she said with a soft coo, dragging her thumb gently across your cheek. “You crying for me already, nerd?”

You sniffled. “You’re awful.”

That made her grin.

“Yeah,” she said, sliding out slowly, careful, her hand coming up to hold your waist when your knees wobbled. “But I’m your awful.”

She tucked herself back into her skirt with practiced ease, then gently helped you up. You winced, legs unsteady, and she made a pleased noise as she pulled you flush against her chest.

“God, look at you. Wrecked. Ruined. Probably never gonna look at a graphing calculator the same again.”

You buried your face in her shoulder, humiliated and blissed-out. “You’re the worst.”

“Nah,” she whispered, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Her fingers trailed down your back again—slow, possessive.

“Next time,” she murmured, lips brushing your temple, “I’m taking you in the library. Right where you eat your sad little sandwich. So everyone knows who you belong to.”

You shivered.

She pulled away just enough to look at your face—messy, flushed, eyes glassy.

“You okay?” she asked, quieter now. “Too much?”

You shook your head. She nodded once, serious for a beat, then kissed your forehead like she meant it.

“Good. ‘Cause this isn’t a one-time thing,” she said. “You’re mine now, loser.”

You didn’t move for a while.

Your legs were too weak, your brain too fuzzy, and everything below your waist felt warm and aching and full, even though she’d already pulled out. You just stood there in her arms, small and quiet, the back of your skirt wrinkled and your panties dangling around one ankle.

Jimin held you steady, like it was nothing. Like you weren’t a trembling wreck she’d just ruined over your own calculus homework.

She clicked her tongue. “God. You’re so fucking helpless.”

Her voice was sharp, but her hands were soft as she smoothed your skirt back down, then bent to help you step out of your underwear completely. She folded them into her pocket without asking—like she owned them now.

You didn’t even try to stop her.

“You really are a mess,” she muttered, guiding you back to the chair. She plopped down first and tugged you into her lap like a toy she’d decided to keep—your thighs straddling hers, face tucked into the crook of her shoulder. “Bet you couldn’t even walk home like this. Pathetic.”

You let yourself sink into her chest, boneless and dazed.

“You’re such a brat,” she added, fingers carding gently through your hair. “Acting all quiet and smart, hiding behind your little notebooks, pretending like you don’t want someone to just wreck you.”

You whimpered a little, embarrassed. Her arms tightened.

“You do want that,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the side of your head. “You want someone to see how fucking sweet you are under all that shy bullshit. And guess what, baby?”

She cupped your cheek, tilting your face up so you had to look her in the eyes.

“I see you.”

You blinked at her—wide-eyed and small, cheeks still damp, lips kiss-bitten.

“I see all of it,” she said, quieter now. “And if anyone else ever looks at you like you’re available, I swear to god I’ll make them cry.”

You swallowed, too full of emotion to say anything. She tapped your lip with two fingers.

“Next time,” she said casually, “I’m bringing snacks. And a blanket. ‘Cause clearly you need post-fuck nesting like some pathetic little kitten.”

You buried your face in her shoulder again, heart thudding painfully at her chest.

“I’m serious,” she mumbled, one hand rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. “You act like you hate me, but I know you’re in love. You’re obsessed.”

You mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?” she teased. “Was that a confession? You gonna cry again if I kiss your forehead?”

She did it anyway. Kissed you there. Soft and possessive.

“I’ll take care of you, dumbass,” she said. “You’re mine now. Deal with it.”

And even though she was still calling you names, still being mean…

You’d never felt more safe in your life.

Eventually, the silence in the detention room grew heavy with the smell of sweat and cheap perfume. The clock ticked closer to six, and the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in tired yellow.

But you stayed curled in her lap, soft and sleepy and still twitching a little every time her hands skimmed over your thighs.

Jimin shifted under you and sighed dramatically, her arms still holding you close like you might try to run. “Alright, loser. Detention’s over. Time to move.”

You whined softly, nose buried in her collar.

She scoffed.

“God, you’re needy.” But her hand came up to cradle the back of your head again, thumb brushing over your ear in a way that made your lashes flutter. “Fine. Just give me a second.”

She leaned forward with you still draped across her lap and started gathering your scattered papers one-handed. Your pen. Your crumpled worksheet. Your calculator. She clicked her tongue when she saw the damp smudge across your graph paper from where you’d drooled.

“Look at this disaster. You really did ruin your homework.” She smirked. “Guess I’ll have to do it for you now, too. Useless.”

You made a small noise of protest, and she cut you off with a kiss to the top of your head.

“Shut up. I’m good at math.”

With surprising care, she tucked everything into your bag, then stood with you in her arms like you weighed nothing. You clung to her automatically, legs wrapped loosely around her waist, cheek resting against her shoulder as she carried you out into the empty hallway.

“You’re such a little princess,” she muttered, kissing your jaw between steps. ��Can’t even walk after one round? I should be offended.”

You mumbled into her neck, and she snorted.

“Yeah, yeah. You loved it.”

She carried you all the way to her car. Opened the passenger door. Buckled you in.

Once you were tucked safely in your seat, your knees drawn up under her oversized hoodie (she’d stripped it off and draped it over you without a word), Jimin dumped your backpack into the backseat and slid in beside you with a satisfied sigh.

“You’re coming to my place,” she said, like it was already decided. “You can nap or whatever while I fix your stupid homework.”

You blinked at her, still dazed. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes I do,” she cut in smoothly. “You think I’m gonna let anyone else look at your stupid essays and see the heart you dotted over the ‘i’ in your name?”

You covered your face, groaning. “I hate you.”

She leaned over and kissed your temple. “Liar.”

_____

You were curled up on her bed in her clothes, warm and soft and full of post-orgasm exhaustion while Jimin sat at her desk, your calculus book open beside your notes.

She twirled your pen between her fingers like a knife.

“You write like a twelve-year-old,” she muttered, scribbling your answers faster than you ever could.

You rolled onto your side, cheek squished against her pillow. “You’re mean.”

She didn’t look up, but you saw the corner of her mouth twitch into a smirk.

“Yeah, but I’m doing your homework and feeding you later, so shut up and let me spoil you.”

Your chest squeezed.

She really was the worst. And she really was yours.

_____

You dozed for a bit—just long enough to lose track of time. Her bed was stupidly soft, her hoodie smelled like her shampoo, and your body was still buzzing from everything she’d done to you.

At some point, you rolled over and realized she was no longer at her desk.

Then you smelled it.

Something warm, savory, and very, very intentional.

You sat up slowly, a little sore, still wearing nothing but her oversized t-shirt and boxers that practically hung off your hips. Padding quietly down the hall, you peeked into the kitchen—and nearly melted on the spot.

Jimin stood barefoot at the stove, brow furrowed like she was solving a physics equation, stirring a pan and tasting the sauce with the same precision she used to ruin you in detention. Her sleeves were pushed up, her tattoos on display, and your favorite song was playing low from her speaker.

On the counter, you spotted a cutting board with ingredients you definitely mentioned earlier in the week when she kept “casually” asking about your comfort meals. She’d pretended it was part of a joke.

“You really like that stuff?” she’d said, twirling her pen. “That basic-ass dish? For real?”

But she remembered.

Every. Single. Thing.

You stepped in, quiet, until she glanced over and caught you watching.

She rolled her eyes.

“Jesus,” she said, flipping something in the pan like a pro. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not that big of a deal.”

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off.

“I was hungry anyway. You just happen to be pathetic and weak and clearly too dumb to cook for yourself, so…” she shrugged, her voice dropping. “Whatever.”

You smiled, cheeks burning.

She glanced at you again, noticed the way you were wrapped in her clothes, your knees knocking together.

She exhaled. “You look like a fucking kicked puppy.”

Then: “Sit down.”

You sat.

A few minutes later, she brought you a plate—your plate, actually. She must’ve stolen it from your Instagram story or something. Everything you liked, made exactly how you liked it. Even the seasoning was perfect. Your favorite drink followed a minute later, poured into a glass with ice the way you always did it.

When you looked up at her, stunned, she crossed her arms and stared at you like she was daring you to say something embarrassing.

You did anyway. Quietly.

“…You remembered all of it.”

She scowled.

“I’m not an idiot.”

You took a bite. Your eyes widened.

“Holy shit.”

She smirked—just a little. “Of course it’s good. I don’t half-ass things.”

When you tried to offer her some, she leaned down, stole a bite from your fork, and winked. “Tastes better when I eat it from your plate, obviously.”

After dinner, she disappeared into the kitchen again. You assumed she was doing dishes—until she came back with a whole dessert, carefully plated with toppings, looking like something out of a bakery window.

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“No,” she said immediately. “Shut up. Eat it.”

You did. It was perfect. She watched you like it was a test.

You set your fork down, cheeks full. “You’re kind of insane.”

She leaned back in her chair, eyeing you lazily. “And you’re kind of spoiled.”

Then, quieter: “But I guess I don’t mind.”

She reached out and wiped a crumb off your lip with her thumb. Then sucked it into her mouth slowly, eyes on yours the whole time.

“I like feeding my little nerd,” she said, mean and sweet and dangerous. “Makes you extra obedient.”

You wanted to crawl into her lap again. Maybe forever.

After dessert, the air in the room shifted. You felt full—not just physically, but in a way that made your chest warm and your pulse race, even in the quiet.

Jimin leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched you finish your food, still feeling the weight of her attention. You hadn’t noticed, but your legs were subconsciously pressed together, like you were trying to hide the way your body reacted to her every move. Every word.

“You look all full and cute now,” she said, voice low. “Like a little pet after a nice meal.”

You made a face at her. “I’m not your pet.”

She raised an eyebrow, giving you that smirk that made your insides twist. “Sure you’re not. But you are my little loser, and that’s basically the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real force behind it.

“Come on.” Jimin stood up, walking over to the couch and sitting down with an exaggerated sigh. “Get over here, loser. I don’t bite—unless you ask.”

You felt your pulse skip at the teasing tone in her voice, and despite yourself, you followed her. She patted the spot next to her on the couch, a little more casual than you expected.

You sat down, a little awkward, but she didn’t let you stay that way for long. She tugged you to sit sideways on her lap with a single hand on your waist. She didn’t even look at you—just made herself comfortable with her arms around your waist, settling you into place.

You couldn’t help but melt against her, your cheek on her shoulder, feeling her warm body under yours.

She was quiet for a second—just watching you, fingers tracing lazily up your side.

“You’re such a mess,” she murmured, soft and low. “So fucking easy to handle. One little meal and you’re basically purring.”

You were about to protest, but she cut you off before you could.

“Don’t start. I know you love it.” She kissed the top of your head. “I told you I’d spoil you. You can pretend you hate it all you want, but you’re mine now.”

You felt a knot in your chest, the weight of her words sinking in deep. You could feel the truth of them in your bones, and the rush of desire you’d tried to bury was coming back with full force.

“I don’t need to hear this,” you mumbled, but even as you said it, your heart was beating so hard you thought it might give out.

Jimin chuckled, her hands sliding down your back in lazy strokes. She kissed your ear softly, nipping at the lobe in a teasing way that made your whole body shiver.

“You’re cute when you’re pretending you don’t want me,” she whispered. “I can feel you getting soft for me all over again. Adorable.”

You shifted on her lap, trying to hide the growing heat between your legs. Jimin, of course, noticed immediately.

“Aww,” she cooed mockingly, her hands tightening around your waist. “Do I turn you on that much, princess?”

You flushed deep red, face burning. “I—stop it.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t the cruel laugh from before. This time, it was warmer—almost affectionate, but still with that sharp edge.

“C’mon,” she said, kissing your temple. “Relax. You’ve had a long day of being a brat. Let me take care of you.”

You leaned into her more, letting her hold you close, your head against her shoulder. You could feel her fingers lazily playing with your hair, soothing you in a way that almost made you forget how badly she teased.

And yet, every once in a while, she’d murmur something that made your heart race again.

“You’re so lucky I’m into you, you know?” she said. “I could be out with someone who’s not a total fucking nerd. But I like my little messes. Makes me feel powerful.”

You felt the weight of her words, but instead of pushing you away, it only made you cling to her a little more, sinking into her warmth.

“And don’t think I’m done spoiling you,” she added, voice low. “You’re not allowed to go back to being that boring little good girl. Not when I’ve got you this way.”

You let out a soft sigh, knowing deep down that you’d never want to go back. Not now. Not after she’d ruined you, in the best way possible.

“Good,” she murmured, resting her chin on top of your head. “I like it when you’re mine.”

You could’ve stayed like that forever—wrapped in her arms, the tension between you both starting to soften into something deeper.

But, as always, Jimin had to remind you she wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“Now,” she said, pushing you off her lap with just enough force to make you stumble, “get in bed. I’m not letting you go until you’re completely worn out from me. And we both know it won’t take long.”

You didn’t protest this time.

You just followed her obediently, knowing it was exactly where you wanted to be.

_____

You were buried in a mountain of flashcards and textbooks, the library’s hushed stillness pressing in around you. Your lunch—a lukewarm sandwich and an apple—sat neglected at the edge of the table, shielded by scattered notes and half-finished diagrams. You’d told yourself you’d stay late this afternoon, get ahead on biology before Jimin picked you up for… whatever was next.

Your hair fell in your face as you leaned down to scribble another note, pen scratching paper in the quiet. The distant hum of the air conditioner was the only sound until you felt it: a soft brush against your ankle.

You froze.

At first, you thought it was a trick of the breeze—or your imagination. But then you saw it: the hem of Jimin’s skirt slipping under the desk, and her fingers brushing your calf. Panic fluttered in your chest as you realized what she was doing.

You snapped your head up to scan the room. A few students glanced up from their laptops, but no one paid real attention. The librarian was at the far end, shelving books, too absorbed to notice the scene unfolding beneath the table. Your pulse thundered.

You swallowed, tugging at your hair to tuck it behind your ear, trying to appear calm. “Jimin?” you whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

She didn’t answer. Instead, her hand slid higher, teasing the inside of your thigh just beneath the edge of your skirt. You bit your lip, your pen stabbing at the notebook in distress.

Without warning, she leaned in, her breath cool against your inner thigh. Her tongue flicked out, tracing a line from your knee up to where your panties were soaked through. You gasped, clutching your pen, and dropped your forehead onto the open page of your textbook, hiding your face behind the printed paragraphs.

The world became the scent of old paper and Jimin’s perfume as her mouth found the seam of your panties. You twisted, trying to keep your voice down, but you couldn’t stop the soft moan that slipped past your lips.

“Shh,” she murmured against your skin, sliding your panties aside. Her hand curled around your wrist gently, pressing it against the underside of the desk so you wouldn’t flail. “Don’t be so loud, baby.”

Your hair curtained your face as you pressed back, thighs clenching instinctively around her head. She chuckled—low, pleased. “Good girl.”

Her tongue dipped between your folds, soft and insistent, and you nearly strangled on a muffled cry. You tried to clutch the textbook for support, but your other hand found Jimin’s hair, threading through the silky strands, guiding her closer. Every hitch of her breath against you sent tremors through your core.

The library’s quiet seemed to stretch forever as Jimin worked you with careful precision—sliding her tongue along your slit, flattening it against you, then flicking it over your clit in tiny, teasing circles. You bit down on the edge of your textbook, trying to keep quiet, but your body was already betraying you.

Her hand found your other thigh, pressing it open wider as she deepened her ministrations. “Look at you,” she whispered, voice thick. “So desperate—hiding behind your books like some shy little mouse.”

You could only whimper, pressing your face into the textbook as her tongue darted inside you. The feel of her lips wrapped around you, the slick heat of her mouth—it was too much. Your toes curled, and you shifted in your seat, but Jimin’s hand held you firmly in place.

“Gonna cum, aren’t you?” she teased, one finger slipping inside you in time with her tongue. “Such a needy little nerd. You love this, don’t you?”

Your head throbbed against the page, vision blurring as waves of pleasure built behind your eyes. You tried to answer, to deny it, but all that emerged was a broken whisper: “Y-yes…”

That was enough for her. Her movements grew more deliberate, fingers pumping inside you while her tongue worked magic on your clit. You bit down harder on the textbook, knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your voices of ecstasy contained.

And then it happened—you tumbled over the edge, a rush of heat and tension that ripped through your body, making you shudder and quake. You clutched the desk leg, head buried in your book, hair matted against your face, as you came with an almost inhuman keening.

Jimin stayed right there, riding out every spasm of your orgasm with slow, patient strokes until you were a trembling mess in her lap beneath the desk. She pulled back, leaving you panting and sore, glancing up at you briefly with a cruel-smile-gone-soft.

“Pathetic,” she whispered, sliding back into her seat as if nothing happened. She tucked your hair behind your ear from under the desk, popping your panties back into place with casual precision. “Now focus. You’ve got a quiz in thirty minutes.”

You lifted your head, cheeks blazing hot, and stared at her—hair still falling in your face, eyes glassy. She slid a book across the table to block the view of her legs beneath the desk.

“Try to act normal,” she said, voice smug. “Or I’ll do it again.”

Your hand still shook as you picked up your pen, trying to write a coherent note. Jimin leaned over, her breath ghosting your ear as she murmured, “I’m always watching you, loser.”

And you—god, you—couldn’t help but obey.

Jimin didn’t slip away when you thought she might. Instead, she stayed—perched on the metal chair across from you, legs crossed, one boot tapping softly on the floor. The tip of her pencil hovered over her own notebook, but her eyes never left you.

You stared at your biology text, trying to get back into the diagrams of mitochondria, but every time you turned a page, you felt her watching. Then you caught sight of her tongue, sliding slowly over her bottom lip, and you knew you hadn’t imagined how she savored you under the desk.

She sighed—quiet, almost pained. You glanced up, heart lurching.

“Ugh,” she muttered, rubbing at her temple as if you’d just interrupted her headache. But the tone wasn’t annoyed; it was… wistful.

Your stomach fluttered. “Jimin—” you began, but she held up a finger.

“Shh,” she said, voice low. She leaned forward, folding her arms on the desk so her chin rested on her knuckles. “You taste so good. Like… like honey and something floral. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You tried to focus on your notes—drawing a shaky arrow between two lines of text—but her words echoed in your skull.

“I swear,” she continued, tone casual as if she were complaining about cafeteria pizza. “Every time I chew gum, I almost taste you. It’s driving me insane.”

Your pen slipped from your fingers and clattered to the floor. Jimin’s gaze flicked down to it, then back to you with that half-smirk of hers. “Pick it up,” she ordered softly.

You bent to retrieve it—careful not to expose yourself—and when you sat back up, she was watching your mouth, licking her own lips.

“Don’t make me come back under there,” she teased, voice barely more than a whisper. “Because I will if I have to taste you again. And trust me, I want to. Bad.”

Your pulse thundered so loud you were sure the whole library could hear it. You tried to force your pen to move, scrawling down a definition, but every stroke felt like static.

Jimin straightened, sliding her chair just an inch closer—just enough that her thigh brushed yours under the table. “You know,” she said, tone mocking but gentle, “maybe I’ll kick everyone out and we’ll make our own little study sesh.”

You dared a glance up. Her eyes were soft around the edges, but still bright and sharp. She was serious. And possessive.

“Just… next time,” she added, voice so low you could barely hear it, “leave the books at home.”

She leaned back, picked up her textbook, and opened it with a deliberate snap—like she was done complaining and now expected you to do your work. But you knew better. You could feel the promise in the way she watched you, the way her thigh rested against yours.

And somewhere, between the definitions and the diagrams, you realized you wouldn’t mind at all if she did come back under there. Not even a little.

_____

The library clock ticked closer to closing time, its soft chime hinting at the end of another long afternoon. You closed your textbook with a decisive snap, heart still fluttering from the memory of Jimin’s confession. Across the table, she tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Done?” she asked, irritation still flitting beneath her words—an irritation you’d come to recognize as care.

You offered a small, tired smile. “Finished,” you whispered.

Her eyes softened, the usual sharpness melting just enough to show relief. She stretched, stretching you against her side, and pushed her chair back. “Good. Let’s get out of here before they lock the doors.”

You packed your things slowly, savoring each movement—zipped pencil case, carefully stacked notes, the lingering warmth of her thigh against yours under the table. When you turned to face her, Jimin’s gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if reading every unsaid thought.

“Hey,” she said, voice gentler now. “About earlier… I’m—”

You pressed a finger to her lips.

“I know,” you murmured. “And I…” A beat, then, softer: “I like it. All of it. Even when you’re mean.”

Her smirk returned, half-lidded and satisfied. “Of course you do, loser. You’re mine, remember?”

You laughed quietly, leaning up to kiss her temple. “Mine.”

Hand in hand, you stepped out into the dusk-lit courtyard. The cool air felt electric against your overheated skin. Jimin slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walked.

“I have one more surprise,” she said, voice playful instead of cruel. “Remember how you said you wanted to try that little café down the street?”

You blinked. “You remembered?”

“Duh,” she replied, guiding you toward the gate. “I like doing things you like.”

Your chest swelled. “Thank you.”

She punched your arm lightly. “Don’t get sappy on me now.”

At the café, tucked into a corner booth, you ordered the warm pastries and whipped cream–topped cocoa you’d mentioned. As you waited, Jimin reached across the table, her fingers tangling with yours.

“You know,” she said, leaning in so her voice was only for you, “I never thought I’d actually care about someone’s favorite food. But with you… it matters.”

You squeezed her hand. “I’m glad.”

She grinned, that signature glint in her eye. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat your damn croissant before I steal it.”

You laughed, leaning into her warmth as the barista delivered your treats. Steam curled from the mug as you both took a cautious sip—perfectly sweet, just like the last months had become.

Jimin watched you, satisfied, until you caught her eye and winked. She rolled her eyes, but the tilt of her lips betrayed her. Then, softly, in a tone that was more promise than tease, she murmured, “Welcome to forever, loser.”

You pressed a kiss to her knuckles, heart full. “Forever,” you echoed, as the world outside faded into the soft glow of café lights and the shared warmth of two perfectly mismatched souls—mean girl and loser, now something infinitely more.