#i looked it up and someone made an edit of them w it but other than that im not sure if anyone has made anything ? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 4 months

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❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 !! ❞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or of you.

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

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

Not yet at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even when it was used against him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Used to give him.

And he lets the water overtake him.

~~~

“You forgot your lunch,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you were.

Right?

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he did.

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

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

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

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

It was enough, for now.

~~~

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

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

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

But only if you let it.

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

But now it couldn’t wait.

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

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

But it doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

And so he was here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He furrows his brow, “I am slee—“

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—For now at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another message comes through.

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean it was expected?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knit your brow together, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Professor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RING. RING. RING.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But when would it be?

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

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

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

You shouldn’t have agreed to this.

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

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

Literally.

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

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

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

You purse your lips — Satoru?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not just—“

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

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

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

There was something wrong with him.

But there always was — when it came to you.

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

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

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

But he couldn’t.

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

Something he wasn’t sure he could ever do.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, come in,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he never would again.

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

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

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

For the rest of his days.

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

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

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

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

He didn’t want to think about other possibilities.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, but he could ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if it wasn’t him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you soon, baby.”

For now.

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

Of course.

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

And still so hard.

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

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

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

No, you didn’t need to see that.

But you didn’t know why.

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

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

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

But would you ever be done with him?

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

Apparently you would never be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,”

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RING. RING. RING.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you say yes if it was Geto asking?

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

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

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

He could only hope you wouldn’t drop it.

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

Double fuck.

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

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

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

And that wasn’t the right question to ask.

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

His hand never leaves yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. It wasn’t that.

It wasn’t. Not if you let it be.

“I’m sorry,”

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

There was only silence.

Until you spoke first.

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

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

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

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

But that wasn’t what you were apologizing for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

One you couldn’t stoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if you were ready to go.

You barely remembered what you said.

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

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

Your eyes slide to him again — no one else.

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

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

So you begin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he breaks it first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you wouldn’t?” And he shrugs.

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

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

But he knew the words.

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

And he would. He did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why did it hurt so much?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta, what? What’s—“

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

You don’t have words.

No, you have one word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yuta—“

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

“That’s not—“

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

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

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

“Of course—“

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

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

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

“Love doesn’t always have to—“

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

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

But you can’t.

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

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

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

“I know. I love you too.”

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

Not for either of you.

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

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

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

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

“You’re still mine too.”

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

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

You were still in love with Suguru.

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, “Professor Yaga—“

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

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

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

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

Not that he was craving company.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullied into it was more like it,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

And he can’t hold back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, why did that thought also hurt?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always, for you.”

Yuta knew it was for the best.

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

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

It was for the best.

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

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

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

His future.

A few months later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? We can—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now he just needed to know yours.

END.

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

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

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

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

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 8 months

Text

DPXDC prompt: Valentine's day spirit. Superbat edition.

When Phantom sets foot on the Justice League base many years later, he expects anything but not Flash pointing finger at him and screaming about "legendary child who made Superbat canon".

~~~~

Being in Metropolis because of a ghost hunt right in the middle of a battle between Lex Luthor and Superman was not the best outcome, especially considering that Jack had his three-year-old son with him. But without such a combination of circumstances, they would never have found out that "Ghost!" "Daddy, no!" Ectoblast that Jack shot at the target of their hunt touches Superman and..really hurts him.

There were two sides to Danny-the ghostbuster's son and the astronerd. It is clear which half of him did not have a chance to win.

Danny threw his space rocket toy aside and grabbed father's arm. In the next second, boy had already sunk his teeth into Jack's fingers, forcing him to drop weapon. Youngling quickly jumped off and picked up ectoblast and then ran towards Superman. "Fly away! I'll hold him!" Danny stood up to try to cover up ghost (or alien?) in case Dad took not one but a whole bunch of shooting things with him again.

Jack: Get away from my son, ghost. Superman: Sir, I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding, I'm not a ghost. Jack: Danny, come to me, he's trying to hide his identity and manipulate us. Danny: No. If the heroes are being attacked, then someone must protect them too. Jack: But he's a ghost.. Danny: Alien or ghost is not so important, Daddy. He's in pain, and he's protecting this city, not haunting it. It's wrong to try to catch him for experiments. I forbid you to do that. Jack: Danny, champ, you're wrong.

Lex: Hah, what an interesting substance. Despite the other aggregate state, or rather its absence, it is so similar to kryptonite. Superman: Lex, is this a portable lab? Now is not the time, in case you haven't noticed. Lex: There is always time for science. I think my colleague will agree, right? "Similar to kryptonite?" Jack muttered to himself.

Jack: So Superman wasn't my target. And we are not colleagues. There is only one insanely rich man with questionable moral values with whom I am ready to do work, and your surname is clearly not Masters. Lex: It's a pity, but still, if you want to carry out the delivery of your wonderful weapons or exchange experiences, then call this number. Luther quickly shoves a business card into Fenton's hand. Jack*throws it away*: Come on, son, let's go back to the hotel, you've skinned your knees.

~~~The Evening. The Roof of the mentioned hotel~~~

"My friend Sam is also very frightening. And she also likes dark.“ The boy paused for a minute of thinking. “You want to kiss your goth friend?" "W-What makes you think that, kid. We’re colleagues, I respect him very much and.." "So you want to. It’s okay, I’d like to kiss Sam too but I’m afraid she’s gonna hit me. You have the same problem?" "It’s a little more complicated for adults." Kal begins to explain but stumbles upon Danny’s completely unimpressed look. Yeah, this boy apparently has heard 'kids would understand when they grow up' lectures at least thousand times. "But you’re basically right."

~~~~

When Batman himself comes to their hotel the next day as a representative of the Justice League to make sure that Mr. Fenton has no desire to harm Superman in the future and to tell that Superman is not going to press charges because of the ectoblast that injured him, Danny refuses to leave the room.

Jack: Oh, Danny, I thought you dropped your space rocket yesterday, it's a good that Alicia's Christmas present isn't lost. Danny: Well, dad, I left it on the roof of a bad bad man, yeah, but Uncle Kal returned it last night and we talked for a while. Jack: About what? Space, my little star? *Father immediately assumes that Danny would like to ask about everything real alien*. Boy*blushes and shakes his head negatively*: No, not about it.

Jack: Then what it was about? Danny: Secret superhero things. I can't tell you. I agreed to withhold that information as part of a pinky swear. Batman: And what about me, young man? You can tell me, right? Batman couldn't resist talking with such a cute kid. The boy thinks only for a second before hurriedly trying to push his father out of the room. Danny: Dad, come out for a minute and don't eavesdrop. I'll tell you when you can come in. The big man laughingly obeys. Lil child checks the reliability of the closed door and runs up to Batman. Danny: And so, Mr. Batman, first promise not to laugh or hit Uncle Kal. Batman: I promise? Danny: Good. This is very important information. Batman: I'm listening.

Danny: He thinks you're terrifying and wants to kiss you. And since he is afraid that you will hit him for this, I recommended him to appease you with a pie cooked according to his mother's recipe. Well, you know, since you love sweets and his parents' farm has the most wonderful apples in all states. He rarely cooks himself, but he will try for you, so even if he doesn't succeed, pretend that you liked it, please. Batman:...

Batman: Would you like to work in intelligence for the Justice League when you grow up? Danny: Actually, I want to be an astronaut. Batman: Our base is located in space. Danny:

Danny: Hmm, then I'll think about your offer.

Batman: Great. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fenton. You can count on a job recommendation from me. Do you want anything as compensation for your consultation? Danny: Actually, yes. Mr. Batman, tell me honestly, are you a bat on a frugivorous diet like Giant golden-crowned flying fox or you are a Vampire Bat? Sam says that such a big bat can only be a vegetarian and uncle Kal said your son was more than happy to steal strawberries from his garden with Superboy but..

~~~

Batman tries to behave naturally for a week. However, the sweet tooth inside him still makes him clamp Superman in the corner and question him. "Where the hell are the pies you promised to cook for me, Clark?"

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #superbat

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afro-hispwriter · 3 months

Text

Interview Shenanigans(TGC)

Tom Glynn-Carney x actress!reader

Request

Warnings- not edited, brief titty grabbing

wc-1.2k

Staff members were running around making sure lighting, sound, and cameras were ready. The interviewer was standing off to the side, waiting for their queue.

Your makeup artist did some more touch ups and the show's publicist gave another talk.

“You’re so far.” Tom put his hand under your chair and dragged it so your chairs touched. The sudden movement made you grab his shoulder so you didn’t fall.

“Do you not get enough of me at home?” You whisper.

“I never can.” He flashed you a smile and squeezed your knee. You scrunched your nose at him and kissed his cheek.

It was so hard for you two to keep your relationship away from the public. Especially since Tom is extremely touchy.

“Everyone take their places.” The producer calls out and everyone takes their seats. The interviewer walked into the small space and shook you and Tom's hand. The producer then started counting down from five.

“Alright guys, we're going to jump right into it. I know you have had a long day so I have some fun questions and some would you rather.”

“I'm excited.”

“Fun.”

“You guys have been working together for a couple years now. What's the best thing about each other?” They ask and you and Tom look at each other.

“Ooo that's such a sweet question.” You smile brightly and look at Tom. “Why don’t you go first?” You look at him with squinted eyes and he gives you the same look.

“Fine. I think the best thing about Y/n is how kind she is, she is very resilient and always tries to see the bright side of things and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Awww.” You cooed and smiled. “You’re so sweet.”

“And she is a good cook.” You doubled over slightly and laughed.

“I know you love it.” You leaned back against your chair and Tom looked at you lovingly and you sighed.

“Tom, he um.” You start and pause to think.

“Oh whatever should you say since there is so much to choose from.” He says over exaggerating his words making you laugh.

“Tom, he makes sure that I am seen and even if he has nothing to say he still listens, always. I believe we all need someone like that and I am glad I found him.” You grab Tom's knee and squeeze it.

“Do you fancy me or something?” He says jokingly, making you laugh again and so does the interviewer.

“He’s just such a good guy and I hope this isn’t the last time we share a screen together.” Tom nodded and lifted his fist up and you gave him a fist bump.

“That is so sweet, I can feel your chemistry right now.” It was very cheesy for them to say but it made Tom's cheeks burn red and your face warmed. “Now to some would you rather questions. Would you rather go get a pint with Daemon, Joffrey, or Aemond?”

“Aemond.” You immediately say and Tom’s head immediately shoots to you.

“Why?” You smirk at him.

“You know why.” He playfully rolled his eyes and leaned back.

“I would go with Joffrey.” Your eyes widened in shock.

“And you questioned mine!?”

“W-Why?” The interviewer asks and Tom goes to answer but stops making you laugh.

“You don’t have to say anything.” You whisper to him

“Well with Joffrey people would leave the pub and it would be quiet.”

“Yeah but I think with Joffery, three pints in and it can get a bit.” The interviewer grimaced.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be near him.” You leaned slightly into Tom.

“I reckon I can take him though.” Tom says.

“Tom vs Joffrey?”

“Yeah I’ll just choke him out.” Tom makes the choking motion with his arm and then he dropped them.

“I'd pay to see that.” You say and Tom laughs and his arm makes its way around your chair.

“Who would you rather have as your Ride or Die? Jon Snow, Khalessi, or Daemon.”

“Khalessi.” You say immediately again. “Everyone is gone when she is an option.”

“Your obsession with her is concerning.”

“You can’t blame me.”

“She is very loyal so I understand.” The interviewer says.

“Im sorry whats a ride or die?” Tom asks, looking between you and the interviewer.

“It's like me and you.” You say and he still looked at you in confusion. “Like I will do anything for you and you’ll do anything for me no matter what.” You grabbed his knee and you nodded.

“What were the options?” Tom chuckles.

“Jon Snow, Khalessi, or Daemon.”

“Oh probably Khalessi then, you know she’s got all the dragons.”

“Ugh you are so predictable.” You rolled your eyes and he shrugged.

“I love whatever you love.” He poked your side and made you twist.

“You’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes playfully and looked back at the interviewer.

“Would you rather rule the seven kingdoms of Westeros or be a minister of magic in the wizarding world?”

“Oooo.” Tom lets out.

“Minister of Magic.” You say and Tom nods.

“Likewise.”

“I feel like I would have a higher chance of surviving if I was in that universe.” You say and Toms fingers dipped into the material of your open backed outfit.

“Well it's still not an easy gig is it?”

“But compared to westeros…”

“True. There are still a lot of eyes on you.” Then Tom says the stupidest thing. “Wingardium Tapioca or whatever it is.” Your jaw slacked in shock and then your face palmed. Tom looked embarrassed and slapped his legs and started laughing loudly.

“Oh my gosh Tom.” He grabbed his cup of water and took a sip.

“I'm going to go cry in the shower after this.”

“Next time we hang out we’re watching all the Harry Potter movies because that was really bad. It's Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Nerd.” Tom says under his breath in a teasing manner and you squint your eyes.

“Watch yourself sir.” You bumped him with your arm.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Unfortunately that's all the time we have left.” You and Tom groaned but you secretly knew you were happy it was over. You both held your hand out to the interviewer and Tom's assistant came up.

“The car is outside to take you back to the hotel.” You thanked them and Tom held his hand out for you to grab. Your fingers entwined together and you swung them back and forth to the car.

The hotel room was a welcome sight. Tom threw his hat on the floor and kicked his shoes off.

“They’ll come by and get these clothes tomorrow most likely.” You say taking off your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear and top. That came off too and so did your bra. Tom stole a look and he smirked and let you put a shirt on. You flopped down on the bed and settled under the covers. Tom was down to his boxers and he settled in behind you.

“I love you.” He says and kisses the back of your ear and wraps an arm around your waist.

“I love you too.” You twist your head back and pucker your lips. Tom’s lips met yours and he squeezed you. His hand dipped under the shirt and his gingers instantly grabbed a breast and he squeezed. The noise you made was a mix of shock and a moan.

“Tom!” You pinched his arm and he drew his hand back and pouted. “Perv.”

“You love it.” He gave your cheek a big wet kiss, making you grimace and wipe it off.

“Order us some food.”

‘Hmph’

Comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated!

#tom glynn carney #tom glynn carney x reader

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libraincarnate · 5 months

Text

astrology notes: 16 ☁️

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences based on astrology. with that being said, i'm still learning along the way & i may come back to edit this post to make corrections. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

🐚 neptune–venus aspects: you probably get compliments on your appearance a lot. you may have been told that you look a model or a celebrity. there's some sort of star quality to you.

if your neptune is square/opposite your venus, you might struggle to see the same beauty that others see in you. it’s not that you think you’re ugly but you might not think you’re as attractive to the extent that others do, so it makes you wonder what other people are seeing. you might think they’re lying or exaggerating. compliments could also be hard for you to accept. the attention you get can make you a little uncomfortable.

🐚 i used to think that virgo venuses were too nonchalant when it comes to love but this placement will give you that real princess or prince treatment that goes beyond money and materialistic items - that kind of princess/prince treatment may apply more to taurus and sag, but with virgo they give the kind of treatment that considers their partner’s entire well-being and not just their monetary needs and desires. they really care about their partners and want to put their life at ease, they truly care if you ate and aren’t just asking that just to ask. if you haven’t eaten they won’t just say, “oh, damn” or “oh no, eat something :/” but they’re the type to create time to make you something or buy you something to eat and even bring it to you. if they can make your life less stressful in any way, they’ll try to do that. if you’re sick, they’ll take on some of your responsibilities like tidying up your house for you since you aren’t able to do so. there can be times where they won’t even let you lift a finger. the types to say, “i’ll take care of that for you” even if you can do it yourself.

they’re reliable so if they say they’ll do something, you can expect them to do it. but this placement may often find themselves in a position where they’re always being the care taker so they want someone who takes care of them too. these individuals are often anxious and may be quite paranoid when it comes to romantic relationships so they desire someone who will put their mind and life at ease. they can be picky and difficult to impress because of their high standards and because they’re quick to get the ick, but once they love you they’ll really go above and beyond.

🐚 sun opposite rising: your looks may not match your personality and you might even think so yourself. for example, you might look innocent or younger than you are, but really, you’re quite mature and there’s a dark, wild, or unexpected side of you. your looks are deceiving.

🐚 capricorn rising/in the 1st house: you are someone who had ambition and big plans from a young age. money could be a big part of your identity. the ones making “money moves” fr. you could have a lot of work experience. you’ve been working/touching money since your pre-teen or teenage years.

if your cap rising aspects your mercury then subjects related to money/finance could be something that is always on your mind and it frequently comes up in your conversations as well.

or if it aspects your lilith, then you may be the type to get money by any means necessary, meaning you might be willing to do illegal/immoral things to obtain it. but in your mind, you probably think you have a good reason to do it. something made it worth the risk because capricorns are too rational, prudent, and judicious to just do anything without good reason.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 lilith in pisces: might deal w/ sleep related issues such as insomnia, sleep apnea, sleepwalking, etc.

🐚 sun conjunct mercury (natal): your father may be someone you hold in high regard and therefore someone you speak highly of most of the time. it’s possible that you tend to reflect on the memories you share with him, your similarities/differences, and the influence he has had in your life.

🐚 jupiter in the 7th house: you bring abundance into the relationships you have. this can be a friendship, business partnership, romantic relationship, etc. your loved ones are lucky to have you in their life. you’re generous and you’re the type to spoil & splurge on those closest to you. you bring encouragement and goodness into the lives of others, even if you haven’t known them for long. you’re a blessing. you could have qualities that make you the perfect wife/husband & you could also be blessed with your perfect spouse in return. unless you’re a jerk, you may be someone that people regret losing, especially your ex.

🐚 aquarius: reminds me of The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) in a way, the ones to step up and help a stranger. they have this innate desire to help people, to help the world, even if it’s done in a small way or even if nobody else sees it.

isn’t it ironic how the sign that’s about humanity and togetherness is the one that feels like an outcast or has been ostracized from some group in some way? whether it be by their family (aquarius in the 4th house), friends (11th house), classmates (3rd house), or co-workers (6th house).

as an air sign, they can talk for hours. but out of the 3 air signs, aquarius is the most socially selective. this can be one of the reasons why they’re often described as cold and distant.

they may not be all sunshine & rainbows but they’re actually kind-hearted individuals. it’s just that they may not always express it in the most warm, affectionate, lovey-dovey way. i wouldn’t describe them as the most emotional individuals but they are still empathetic and they dislike inhumane behavior.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 sag experiences life to fullest by going everywhere, seeing everything, learning about it all in the process and then reflecting on what they’ve seen & learned.

taurus experiences life to the fullest by really being present in their physical body. they’ll take in the different sounds of a song and dance to the beat, they'll distinguish the different notes or aromas of a particular smell and then buy similar scents to fill their home with it or to wear as perfume/cologne. when eating, they'll really taste food and explore the different flavors/ingredients, then maybe they’ll try to cook it for themselves. they’re in tune with their senses and therefore the world around them. it’s such a beautiful way to experience life, but this can also mean that they are quite sensitive to their environments. with that being said they may feel a strong connection to nature/the earth.

🐚 cancer in the 10th house: may be perceived as compassionate & loyal, shy, or a sweetheart by the general public. could be sensitive about their reputation and any criticism they receive. they spend time nurturing their career, and their career may even relate to nurturing children, caretaking, or healing. they rely on their intuition or heart to carve out their path and navigate their career. they’re good listeners and as a cardinal sign they also possess that leadership quality. the types to provide their close friends and family with opportunities to help them reach their own success. a desire to take care of their family and their needs once they make it. people within the same industry as them may see them as a motherly mentor.

🐚 scorpio in the 2nd house: they can have deep and/or raspy voices. it’s music to my ears, but especially if it’s a woman with this placement. that’s because women typically have higher pitched voices, and so naturally, these women stand out when they speak. if they can sing well, they can probably reach deeper notes than most women typically can. but in the same breath, it may be hard for them to reach high notes. this applies to both the natal chart & the mercury persona chart.

🐚 saturn rules the teeth and so people with saturn in retrograde in the 1st house, or saturn opposite/square pluto, lilith, mars or the ascendant may have a chipped tooth due to a certain event such as getting hit in the mouth or biting on something hard. or they may have a gap between their front teeth, the type you inherit genetically or from your parents. this doesn’t mean they have ugly teeth or an ugly smile. however, whether they feel like they have an ugly smile or not, they may have a tendency to smile without showing their teeth or they cover their mouth when smiling/laughing in attempt to hide their teeth. either way, there’s a sense of self-consciousness here.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 4th house synastry: potential for a strong/solid foundation, they're your comfort place, having a strong desire to live together, moving in together can make the relationship feel more satisfying, fulfilling, or complete. you miss them when they’re not home/around, hate having to say goodbye, long distance could make you both feel miserable or like something is missing. possible separation anxiety. emotional vulnerability, healing, and attachment. taking care of each other. wanting to start a family. this house also creates an environment for a deep connection just like the other houses ruled by water signs.

🐚 if i could communicate with animals i would tell pets to choose owners who have scorpio in the 6th house. these people will loveee their pets to death. their pets would probably be obsessed with them (it would be mutual though) because of the amount of love and attention they would receive from their owners. there’s definitely a strong emotional attachment. but in general, having a water sign in the 6th house indicates a strong emotional connection or bond with pets/animals.

air signs in the 6th house would talk to their pets a lot and they’d be besties lol, they obviously don't speak the same language but they'd understand each other nonetheless. possible animal whisperers here.

earth signs in the 6th house would give their pets the best of the best but i also think this dynamic would bring a mutually grounding effect that could be therapeutic, bringing a sense of calm and peace to the pet and the owner’s life.

fire signs in the 6th house would spoil their pets and they’d have a lot fun doing things together like taking them outdoors and going on adventures.

🐚 1st house ruler in the 2nd house: the themes of the 1st house includes one’s appearance and the themes of the 2nd house includes one’s physical body and beauty, being that is ruled by venus. while this still applies to libra because it is also ruled by venus and it has the reputation of being beautiful and having physical symmetry, this doesn’t apply to the 7th house, which libra rules, because that house is more related to romance and relationships.

so, since the physical body is part of one’s appearance, if your 1st house is ruled by the 2nd house, not only can this show another layer of your appearance but it can also mean you have a very attractive appearance and body. bonus points if taurus is in the 2nd house since that is the house it rules and it is also ruled by venus.

with that being said, even if you don’t have a libra rising or libra in the 1st house, if it’s in your 2nd house and it rules your first house you may have libra physical traits like freckles or dimples. if aries or leo is in your 2nd house then you may have a lot of hair, red hair (naturally or dyed), or a pronounced face/head.

the planets in your 2nd house may also have an impact, so if you have mercury there your body may be quite slim. having venus in the 2nd house is also a bonus because again, beauty. jupiter too since it represents blessings so you may be blessed with great looks and this may indicate a thicker or curvier body type as well. i’d also add asteroid aphrodite (1388) as well, being that it represents attraction, & beauty, but planets will have a greater influence.

lastly, people may like the way you dress and think you have a good sense of style.

^ even if the house that rules your 1st house doesn’t relate to one’s appearance or body, it can still have an influence on your presence. for example, if your 8th house rules your 1st house you probably have sex appeal without even trying to be sexy, people may think you’re secretive, and you might look and feel best when you’re wearing dark colored clothing. but remember, signs matter and can reinforce this or bring out the opposite.

🐚 asteroid juno (3) at a gemini degree (3°, 15°, 27°): can indicate a marriage filled with laughter, lots of conversation, and possibly good communication between you & your spouse, or these are things you desire or must have in a committed romantic partnership.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 pluto represents things that are hidden. those with pluto in the 1st house may hide or gatekeep their personality or their true self, so many people don’t know the real them. they’re naturally mysterious with deep layers.

in the 6th house they may hide any health issues they have or how hard their life may be on a daily basis, the types to feel like they’re on the verge of death but no one would know.

in the 3rd house they may not be quick to reveal their thoughts or what’s on their mind, they try to think before they speak. reminds me of the person who chooses to sit in the back of the class and doesn’t participate much, but they have profound ideas and also a dark mind. their siblings may also feel like they don’t know them very well even if they grew up together and were raised in the same home. furthermore, your sibling’s friends may be surprised to learn that they have a sister/brother (the person with pluto in the 3rd house), because they’ve never seen or heard of them.

🐚 lilith represents the things we reject. in the 1st house, lilith may reject parts of themselves because they find those parts difficult to accept, they might create a new version of themselves but it’s not really authentic since they’re rejecting their true self. they may reject their personal boundaries and can potentially be a push over or they care too much about what others think. this may result in a lack of self-esteem and confidence. they could reject their appearance and do things to constantly change how they look whether that be dyeing their hair, dressing up in ways that are drastically different, or possibly getting cosmetic surgery.

in the 10th house, lilith may reject commands from their superiors, their boss/supervisor may tell them to do something a certain way but they do it their own way, may have a tendency of disobeying their father or they were rejected by their father. they may reject leadership roles and prefer to work alone. they don’t take the “traditional” path to success and may choose a career that their father is against. they could also reject fame or attention from the general public even though that’s something they naturally attract.

in the 12th house they may reject their dreams, meaning that they think nothing of them, they’re “just dreams” and have no deeper meaning. they might reject the darker parts of themselves and prefer to focus on the parts that aren’t so dark and heavy. because of this there could be painful experiences that they haven’t healed from because they refuse to pay any attention to them. if they are spiritual, then they may have surface level knowledge and aren’t interested in delving into deeper waters. or they could disregard or hate the reality of life on this planet and so they have a tendency of fantasizing about death, the end of the world, or a different/better world. also, they may not be the most generous or charitable people.

🐚 empty houses: some people might think that the empty houses in their chart are insignificant but they still have relevance in your life because a there’s still a sign that falls into that house and that empty house also has a house ruler. for example, if you have an empty 3rd house with leo or sag there, you may still be one of the popular kids in school even if you have no planets in that house.

and let’s say your 3rd house is ruled by the 7th house (meaning your sun or jupiter is in the 7th house), your popularity may stem from your relationships. you may be known because you’ve dated the popular boy/girl at school or you both are popular making you the popular couple at school. perhaps you’ve had several relationships throughout your school years and maybe you’re that person who is always in a relationship which could create some gossip whether it be for good or bad. or maybe you have a lot of people pursuing you and wanting to date you, perhaps you have multiple people wanting to take you to prom or you might be a sophomore and yet you end up going to prom with a senior.

so, empty houses will still play a role in your life, but it will most likely be less active or less prominent compared to the houses that do have planets.

🐚 the 5th house: this is definitely one of my favorite houses. people with multiple placements in the 5th house typically have so much personality. they’re so fun, a joy to be around, truly a burst of sunshine with vibrant energy and they’re also really talented. definitely the life of the party, bringing everyone together with excitement and entertainment. the type to start dancing with or talking to a stranger or that person standing in the corner, making them feel both welcomed and included. they also have this youthful quality to them, which may be one of the reasons why children love them or get along with them well.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

#astrology #astro notes #astrology notes #astro observations #astrology observations #libraincarnate

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satorusugurugurl · 18 days

Note

Can u pls do jjk men fic w a chubby reader where the boys like her but they think he wouldn’t go for her cuz she’s a lil extra thicc.

(Maybe other jealous ppl tell her that too n make her insecure) and then the boys find out and confess n stuff (and spice too maybe) :3

JJK Men: You’re Beautiful!

Summary: JJK Men react to someone making you feel insecure about your body.

Characters: Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna (Roommate AU), Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Chubby!AFAB!Reader

Warnings: making out, public smexy stuff, dry humping feeling up, body worship, language, fatphobia, body shaming, weight insecurities, Word

Count: 9K

A/N: Sorry for the lack of content! I wanted to finish this fic, and I have two others that are almost done, but your girl kept passing out in the middle of editing this! I hope you enjoy it!!

Choso Kamo:

“Snacks?”

“Check.”

“Water?”

“Check!”

“Picnic blanket?”

There was a pause on the other line of the phone. “Shit!” Choso yelled as you watched him turn back towards his house. “I knew I was forgetting something.” You bit down on your lip, kicking your feet as he turned his pretty eyes on you. The second your eyes made contact, you felt your cheeks flush as he smiled softly.

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze as he turned and went back inside his apartment. You fell harder for your best friend when he smiled at you like that. The man you sat next to in art class who was quiet and kept to himself. Sitting there despite your friend's pleas for you not to had been the best decision of your entire life. Choso was amazing! He was sweet and talented, and he had a huge heart.

He loved his brothers and took amazing care of them, and God, he was so sweet. Plus, he was like the hottest guy you’d ever seen. God, you had it down for him, but you didn't dare tell him how you felt—not yet.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Choso said as he walked to his car.

“N-Nothing!”

“There is because you haven't shown me your outfit.”

You perked up, grinning as you propped the phone on your vanity, standing far enough to show Choso your outfit. “I'm wearing a crop top and shorts!” you grinned, twirling around, showing off your thick, curvy body that you loved. What do you think?” When you glanced at the phone, you nearly tripped as you saw Choso smiling dreamily at you, his chin resting on his steering wheel as he stared.

“You look cute.” He said in an almost hushed tone that had your heart racing. “Alright, I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.”

“Sounds good. Please be safe while driving over here.”

“I always am.”

The second line disconnected, and you shoved your face into the corner and kicked your feet. He was so cute, and he said you were adorable! This was the best day ever, and he hadn’t even picked you up yet. Your eagerness had you rushing out of your room into the living room, where you found your roommate sitting. She was watching television, and as soon as she heard your entrance, she glanced up, eyes wide as she did a double takeover of your outfit.

You looked smoking hot. Your boobs were perfectly fitted in the tight crop top. At the same time, the curve of your ass would have men howling at it like those old-timey cartoons. Your hair was styled perfectly, and your light makeup was done. You were a stunning sight. But it wasn’t just your beauty that had your roommate seething with jealousy. It was your confidence and your giddy attitude over the fact that Choso Kamo was taking you out.

“Where are you off to?”

“Oh, Choso is taking me to the park! They’re having a movie night there, so we got tons of snacks, and we’re just going to watch a movie and talk under the stars.” The dreamily lovey-dovey look in your eyes made you already jealous of your roommate.

“You're going out like that?”

Her words had you stopping in your tracks as you glanced down at yourself. “Yeah—? Why do I have a hole in my pants or something?” You glance back at your pants.

“No, it's just—you’re going to be wearing a crop top in public with Choso?”

“I always wear crop tops.”

Your roommate could see the hesitation in your eyes at her words. “Yeah, but that’s normally when we’re with our other friends. You know friends who are thick like you. You’ll be sitting on a blanket next to Choso, who looks like an artisan carved him out of marble.” You swallowed, poking at your cute tummy. “I just wouldn't want you to be embarrassed; you are a little extra thick.” She stood up, carrying her past you and moving towards the kitchen. “You aren’t trying to impress him by wearing something like that, right?”

You had been trying to impress him. You picked out your cutest and the shorts that looked great on you. This was the outfit you always wore when you needed a confidence boost.

“Oh—you were trying to impress him, weren’t you?” You swallowed hard at your suddenly dry throat. “Oh honey, you’re too thick for him. Could you imagine being on top of him?” She shook her head as she threw her bowl in the sink. “If you want to impress him, maybe pick up on my workout regiment?”

Her words left you feeling stunned as you scoffed. “That was fucking rude.” You snapped, eyebrows throwing together as you glared. “Choso said my outfit looked cute. And you might be insecure with your body, but I love mine.” Your roommate rolled her eyes as she grabbed her keys off the counter, heading for the door.

“Cute as in a sisterly way, probably.”

As the door to your shared department behind her, you resisted the urge to throw her mother’s face at the door. Ever since you and Choso had grown closer together, your roommate, who was a friendly acquaintance, had turned into a mythic bitch. She was constantly jabbing you about your weight and what you wore. It might be time for you to start looking for a new roommate or somewhere else to live. She had just to be jealous, which shouldn’t affect you.

But it did.

As you glanced at the mirror, you suddenly felt overly exposed. She was right; Choso had a nice build, and you were curvy and thick. Those toxic, cruel words had you reaching into the closet, slipping on a hoodie over your shorts before you headed downstairs to wait for Choso to arrive.

The second he pulled up in front of your dorm, the passenger-side window rolled down. “Hey cutie, ready fo—” Choso frowned eyeing the hoodie as you got in the front seat. “Uhm, what happened to the crop top and shorts?” He prodded as he pulled onto the main road, heading for the park.

“Uhm—I got cold.”

“It’s eighty degrees.”

“Yeah? So?”

Choso sighed, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he focused on the road. “You know I hate it when you lie to me.” That stung like a lash from a whip.

“I’m not lying.” You sighed out, tilting your head back.

“Ha, you honestly think I’m buying that? I know you. And I know when you’re cold because you’re normally on top of me, trying to steal my body heat. So you aren’t cold.” It was almost annoying that he knew you so well. But at the same time, you were thankful that he did. Slowly turning your head, you could see him glancing at you every few seconds while he maintained a vigilant gaze on the road. “So, are you going to come up with another shitty lie? Or are you gonna tell me why you’re wearing a hoodie over the outfit you were so excited to show me.”

You groaned, scrubbing your hands down your face before turning in your seat. “Has anyone told you that it’s annoying how observant you are?” The remark only had your crush smiling. “Fine, fine, uhm—” you rubbed your neck, “my roommate made some pretty nasty comments, so I wasn’t feeling as confident in it.”

Anger tagged at the features of Choso’s face. “What?!” He snapped, turning his gaze back on you.

“Yeah, it’s pretty shocking, to say the least. She said lots of stuff. Mostly along the lines that I was too thick to be wearing what I was.” Those words rang in your ears. “She asked if I was trying to impress you, and when I said I was, she said I was too thick for you. And I snapped back, telling her you said my outfit was cute.” The blinker clicked several times. It chose to pull off the main road and down a dark alley. “And then she said that it was most likely in a brotherly way. Which I knew it was bullshit because we’re friends and you were just hyping me up.”

“No, " the car stopped completely. You’re both wrong.”

When you turned your attention back on Choso, he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I-I was wrong?” you squeaked as he learned over the console. His thick, long fingers grabbed both sides of your face.

“Yeah, I meant it in an I have the biggest fucking crush on you, and I want to kiss the hell out of you kind of way.”

You breathed heavily as he brushed his nose against yours, closing the distance between you. “W-What a coincidence, I have the biggest crush on you too.” He hummed stray dark strands of hair, tickling your cheek. “A-And I would love to kiss you.” You were suddenly yanked forward, Choso’s lips on yours as he kissed you like you had never been kissed before.

You melted, and the sweet taste of mint flooded your mouth as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. With a soft moan, you opened your mouth for him, shaking as his hands reached around you, grabbing the back of your head, forcing your lips harder against his as he deepened the kiss. His tongue moved feverishly against yours as he pulled you tight against his chest.

“M-mm!” You moaned, digging your fingers into his shirt, reciprocating the want that he had shown you.

Choso broke the kiss, first panting heavily as he glared at your hoodie as if it had insulted one of his brothers. “Take this off; I wanna see your body.” He growled, grabbing the fabric shielding you from his gaze, tugging it over your head, and throwing it somewhere in the backseat. “Oooh fuck.” He whispered, hands gliding over your shoulder, saying he took in an eye full of your beauty. “You’re so pretty.” His eyes slowly met yours as he yanked you over the console.

“W-Wait!” You yelped out, your roommate's words hitting you at a terrible time. “Hold on!”

“My windows are tinted. It’s fine.”

“That’s not it! I don’t want to crush you.”

“Honey,” you squeaked out another gasp as Choso bull-yanked you over the console of the car, flopping you down on his lap. “You aren’t going to crush me. Fuck.” He groaned as he laid the seat back. “Fuccck, you’re so pretty.” He whispered, running his hands over your beautiful curves, fingers gently caressing the stretch marks on your sides. “You have no idea how much I wanted this. To have you in my arms, kissing you, worshiping your beautiful body.”

You moaned, shaking slightly as you pressed his face and your breasts, kissing and nipping out your cleavage. “F-Fuck—” Shivers ran down your spine, and goosebumps littered your arms; your best friend continued to run his hands up and down your body, taking you in like this was the first time he saw you.

“You’re a masterpiece.” His hands grow up your ass, squeezing it. “I can’t believe I can finally admire your beauty up close and personal and not from afar anymore.” Choso ran his tongue over your breasts while his hands moved your hips, encouraging you to rock against him.

“C-Choso~ g-god me too; I‘ve wanted you for so long.”

“Then have me.”

Your hips automatically began rocking against the hardening bulge in his jeans, drawing out soft moans from the both of you. Each roll of your jean-clad shorts against him was like electricity, like fireworks going off at a summer festival. It was exciting and new, and each move was more exciting than the first, as you were both bound by rhythm, and that was perfect in no time. Choso’s fingers dug into your hips as your lips found his neck, nipping and sucking at his sensitive skin, growing out the prettiest sounds from him.

This felt like a dream, a dream that you had had many times. But the smell of spice and pine let you know that this was not a dream. It was reality, and it was a reality where your best friend was moaning underneath, you bucking his hips up against your core as you relentlessly ground down on him.

“Nngh~ fuck, that feels so good.”

“C-Cho, fuck you’re so hard.”

He laughed, and it was smooth and rich, like dark chocolate. “I’m always hard around you.” He admitted, his hands leaving your hips, slowly slipping under your shirt to grope and tease your breasts. “I like you so much. I liked you before you even sat next to me in class, f-fuck!” Choso cried out, throwing his head back as you sucked on his skin, leaving marks everyone would be able to see.

“Yeah~?”

“Fuck y-yeah, haaah,” you watched an ecstasy as his eyes rolled back into his. “I-I was working u-up the courage to talk t-to nngh!” A loud moan broke through his words as you rolled your hips in a circle over his hard cock. “Oooh, holy fuck—it’s hard to talk when you’re doing that.”

“Ooh, I’m sorry, honey.” You weren’t sorry in the slightest. “You can continue.”

Choso sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth. “I-I was working up the courage to talk to you, but you beat me.” He spat out before his voice broke as you rolled your hips faster against that hard bulge in his. “Fuck—c-confessions later, it’s hard to be serious when I’m trying not to cum in my pants.” Knowing that you already had them on the edge only encouraged your momentum.

“Ooh~ what stopping you from doing that?

“Heh, I don’t want to make a mess inside of my pants like a teenager again.” You rocked harder against him. “Fuck, but you seem determined.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about messing up your pants; you could mess up my mouth instead.”

The confidence, the tone of your voice, and the friction were Choso’s downfall.

You felt him twitching his pants before bucking up relentlessly against you. And in that moment, you had never been more thankful than inseams and jeans. That perfect scene rubbed right against you in quite the ideal way, drawing shattering cries from you as you forward onto Choso’s chest and coming inside your panties, right along with him. The waves of pleasure left you twitching as your heart thundered in your ears.

After a few minutes of lying in the afterglow, you pulled away to look down at the man underneath you. He looked as dazed as you felt. His cheeks were flushed a pretty shade of pink, and his fingers ran lazily up and down your back. Choso looked like every dream he’d ever dreamt had just come true. It was a blissful expression, one that you fairly certainly mirrored.

“I should’ve told you a long time ago, I felt. And I’m sorry my confession came out under such shitty circumstances.” Choso whispered as he sat slightly, peppering your shoulders with kisses.

“I could’ve easily confessed to you, too; I was just nervous.”

“We both were.” He corrected, wrapping his arms around you. “But I want you to know I meant every word I said. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and my best friend.”

You take your bottom lip between teeth and smile shyly down at him. “You’re my best friend to Cho, and thank you for liking me for me.” He hummed, slapping your ass and drawing out a squeak from you.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way. And as much as I would love to keep you on my lap, I think we need to make a pit stop at my apartment before we go to the park. I need to change my pants.”

“Oor~ we could have a movie night in your bedroom? With no clothes on. Because believe it or not, leaving naked underneath, you would be a lot more cuter than this outfit when you agree.”

Choso turned red, not saying a word at first before his hands massaged your ass. “Get this sweet succulent in the passenger seat right now. We’re going back to my place.” And you were right; your crop top looked much better on his floor next to his clothes.

Ryomen Sukuna:

Gojo always found an excuse to go party at his luxurious house. His excuse this week was to celebrate his new puppy. It was an excuse everyone would gladly use to spend an evening dancing, drinking, and smoking. You and your roommate Sukuna were two of those people.

“Did You seriously bring a fucking gift for the dog?” your crimson-eye roommates snapped as he opened the door to Gojo’s house for you.

“For starters, her name is Kiki, and secondly, yes, I did.” you turn to look up at your towering roommate. His face tattoo is even visible in the low lights on the porch. “You drop the beer. I brought the gift. That’s what makes us a great team.”

Sukuna looked away; annoyance etched into his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, teammates.” he smacked your ass with the six-pack he was carrying, pushing you through the threshold. “Go on, teammate, get that ass of yours inside.” you barked out inside the crowded house and searched for your mutual friends. “Oi, I’m going to drop this off in the kitchen, okay?”

“Okay!” you yelled over the blaring music before venturing into the living room.

You spotted Satoru on the couch with a husky puppy sitting on his lap. Bright blue eyes met you as you approached. “Stop!” Gojo nudged a smoking Suguru, who choked on his hit. “Who the fuck is this sexy bitch?” Kiki barked almost in agreement as you grinned, handing the tug-of-war toy to Kiki, who sniffed it hesitantly before chewing on it approvingly. “Seriously, you look so hot. Did you get all dolled up for your asshole roommate?”

“No, I just felt like dressing up a little.” Dressing in a short red and black plaid skirt and a tight red T-shirt with something you rarely did. You weren’t exactly thin. Your butt was too big, your thighs pressed together when you walked, and your tummy was soft. You loved your body, all the dimples and stretch marks that came along with your curvy figure, but mostly showed off around the apartment wearing a tank top and dolphin shorts. You often wear leggings and an oversized jacket when you are out and about, but tonight was different.

Sukuna had been the one encouraging you to dress up, telling you to live a little and wear what you wanted. Initially, You hesitated, but you decided that maybe he was right. Life was too short to suffer inside of a hoodie!

“You look hot.” Geto chimed in, taking another hit from a blunt. “You should dress like that more often; I can feel the confidence radiating off you.”

“That's what I keep telling her.”

You smiled as your roommate came up behind you, draping his arm over your shoulders. “Maybe now you’ll believe me.”

“I don’t know, Sukuna; you should see how some of these guys look at her.” Gojo shifted Kiki to his other arm. “You might be going home alone tonight.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo.”

“I’m just speaking the truth!” Satoru shrugged the shoulder, pushing himself up. “Better act before someone else does.” Your roommate growled to ignore. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to take Kiki outside for potty training.

Before your friend could even step away, Shoko and Utahime hurriedly stepped in front of him. “Gojo, some delivery person is here with a three-tier cake, and he won’t bring it in until you sign for it.” A three-tier cake for a dog party?

Gojo looked between Shoko and his pretty husky. “Fuck, okay, let me put Kiki ou—” You stepped in, holding your arms out.

“I can take her out for you. I know how important potty training is for puppies.”

“Really, oh my God, thank you.” He pressed to kiss on top of Kiki’s head before handing her over to you. “Be good for your auntie. I’ll be back!”

“Hey, do you need me to come with you?” Sukuna asked as he nursed a beer.

“No, we’re all good!” Kiki probably turned you, licking your chin as you carried her to the backyard, replacing her down on the grass. “Good girl Kiki go potty, sweetie.” you praised her, the grass following her further out into the yard. “You’re such a pretty girl—”

“Did you see Sukuna’s roommate?” a voice called out from the back porch, and the door opened and closed.

“Who didn’t?” a man chimed in with a laugh. “You could spot that girl out in a heartbeat.”

“No shit! She’s a sore thumb compared to Sukuna! I honestly feel bad for him.”

Your stomach soured as you stayed out of sight of their cruel words. “Seriously, she should think before she dresses like that and when she’s around Sukuna on top of it! I would’ve been so embarrassed being seen with her in that skirt.”

Their choir of laughter had you sinking onto the grass. You thought your outfit looked good. Gojo, Geto, and Sukuna thought so, too, but maybe they were just being nice because they were your friends. These assholes had a point. Your roommate was so handsome, and you weren’t feeling the prettiest.

As Kiki sniffed the grass mindlessly before the door opened again. The assholes on the porch suddenly grew as you followed their gaze to Sukuna, who was looking around. They said nothing as he huffed out and sighed in annoyance.

“Have you guys seen my roommate?”

“No—I’m sure we would remember if we saw ‘her.’” one of the girls snickered, making you sink further onto the ground. Was this the part where your roommate joined in with their teasing? Making comments about your outfit? Being honest about what he thought.

You shut your eyes tight as you braced yourself for the truth. “What the fuck do you mean by that? Why are you laughing?” you perked up to look at a very pissed-off Sukuna.

“Well, let’s be honest, man, with her thighs, she shouldn’t be—”

The last words didn’t even get a chance to leave his mouth as Sukuna grabbed the asshole by the front of his shirt. “ I would think very carefully before the next words leave your fucking mouth.” you watched your roommate slam this dick against the wall of the porch. “That’s my girl you’re talking about.” his girl? Your cheeks flushed as you watched color leave the man's face.

“I-I’m sorry, man, I didn’t know!”

“Yeah? Well, now you do. Get the fuck out of my sight before I decide you’re not worthy of being in the same vicinity as me.”

The instant the assholes left, running inside with their tails between their legs, you picked yourself up off the grass, shuffling forward. Sukuna’s head lifted as he listened to your footsteps, turning his head and listening to you approaching him from behind. He scoffed, turning on his heel, leaning over the railing, and glancing at you.

“I’m going to take a while, guess, and say you heard everything those fuckers said.”

“Yep.”

“You know they’re full of shit, right?” You hummed, putting your hands behind your back because you stood below him, looking up at the porch. “I’m serious; they’re nothing but jealous pieces of shit. You’re beautiful.”

“And I'm also apparently your girl, too.”

Shock didn’t cross his features; his fingers curled in slightly as he kept his transfixed on you. “Yeah, I want you to be my girl. I'm tired of being this teammate to you. And I honestly don’t know how clear I can be about how I feel about you.” Now that he was being so blatant with his words, you were finally starting to see what he was talking about.

All the late-night cuddle sessions, the lingering touches on your hips when he passed you, how he looked at you sometimes. Your roommate had been flirting with you this whole time, and you hadn’t realized it until he called you his girl. It was almost embarrassing to be so blind to his advances, but there was a time to be embarrassed about that later. Right now, you wanted to focus on the words he had just said.

“Why?”

Sukuna shows no signs of confusion or fear. His face remains blank, like an empty canvas. “Why what?”

“Why would you even want me to be your girl? I mean, look at me.”

“I am.”

You flushed as you bore into his eyes. “Okay, and you see me, right? You heard that asshole say, I shouldn’t be wearing skirts; I stick out like a sore thumb compared to you. People, apparently, think I’m not good enough.” A shadow flashed across your face as your roommate leaked over the edge of the porch, landing on the grass in front of you.

“Ive wanted you from the second you walked into our apartment.” Sukuna grabs both your wrists, gently holding them in his hands. “Im so fucking attracted to you. You have the perfect fucking body. I want you. I would not be able to keep my hands off of you if you even gave me a chance to touch you.”

“K-Kuna—” You gasped as his arms sneaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “I-I— are you sure?”

Instead of responding to your question, Sukuna leaned forward, pressing his lips against the drawers in a kiss that could stop time itself. The lingering taste of alcohol made your head spin as he backed you up against the pool house, pressing you firmly against it, one hand gripping the side of your face while the other slammed against the door.

His lips moved feverishly against yours, and your wall slowly began to come down around him. You found yourself no longer hesitating as you remembered his words and how passionately he had spoken of you. Your hands, which had limply stayed by your side, lifted up, and your fingers ran through his hair. You pulled him more tightly against your chest. And it was an action that your roommate absolutely loved.

Feeling you getting into the kiss into the passion that he had felt for you for so long, made Sukuna snarl as he gripped your hips, lifting you up as he searched for the handle to the door of the poolnhouse. He was going to take you in there and take his time to show you just exactly how much you meant to him. And how much he wanted you.

But finding the handle turned out to be a lot more difficult when his lips were on yours. “Where the fuck is the stupid handle?” Sukuna growled out, pulling away from your lips for a second before slamming them back against you, stepping back an inch in search of the handle from a different angle.

“I think it’s the left.” You out in between breaths of air before your lips connected with him again. But as your roommate searched for the handle, he found himself drifting along the side of the house, which had been a mistake.

It was a mistake on both of your parts. When Sukuna went to put his hand down on the wall, he came into contact with nothing. He had unknowingly reached the edge of the pool house and found himself tumbling forward with you wrapped in his arms. You let out a scream of shock as water engulfed you, and you both fell into Gojo’s pool. But this slight hiccup didn’t stop you—notin the slightest.

The instant you broke through the surface of the water, both of you blindly searched for each other. When you felt his body heat, you threw your arms around your roommate's neck, holding him close as you wrapped your legs around his waist. This allowed him to freely carry you towards the back of the pool, where he slammed you against the cool pebble tech wall.

“Sorry about your outfit,” Sukuna growled as he pulled back just enough to allow him to pull your shirt up and throw it over your head on the patio.

“Does it look like I give a fuck about my outfit right now?” You asked, grabbing a hold of his shirt, tugging it up and over your head, tossing it into the water, allowing it to float somewhere off in the pool.

“No, I honestly don’t think you give a fuck about it.”

“Then why are we still talking about it?”

Sukuna smirked, licking his lips slowly. “Alright, I hear ya’ I guess I’ll go ahead and let my lips do the talking.”

While you both made out in the back of the pool, Gojo stepped outside, looking around for you as he picked Kiki up off the ground. “Hey~? You good? Please tell me you didn’t fall in my pool and drowned.” He was starting to step forward when the unstable sound of splashing water, followed by a string of moans, stopped him in his tracks.

Kiki yelped happily as Gojo snickered, heading into the pool house, grabbing a couple of fresh towels, and setting them on the pool deck near the steps. “Well~ it looks like he took my advice and finally stepped up and took some action,” Gojo told his pretty dog as he headed back into the house, dimming the lights around the pool, making your steamy session just a bit more romantic.

Nanami Kento:

“So it’s a date?” Shoko asked, watching you Finish applying some very light makeup to your face.

“It is not a date. Nanami Just happened to have an extra ticket to my favorite musical. We’re friends, and there’s nothing more than that.”

“Oh, he just happened to have an extra ticket to your favorite musical. But he’s also taking you to a fancy restaurant beforehand?”

“It’s one of his favorite restaurants, and he wanted to take me there.”

Shoko blew smoke from the window to your balcony, shaking her head. “Boy, I bet you’re in for the surprise of a lifetime tonight.” You shot your best friend an annoyed glance in the mirror.

“We’re just friends—” Even though you wanted to be more than friends with the handsome, sweet, caring blonde you had fallen head over heels for. “so drop it.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will.” Shoko put her cigarette out in the ashtray you had for her. “I cannot let you go on your date like—this.” She grimaced, eyeing your dress suit that skillfully hid your curves and thick thighs from the world.

You pouted, smoothing out the long skirt that went past your knees. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What isn't wrong with it? You look like a mother at her daughter's wedding. Or an elderly college professor. Or you look like you’re about to go in for a job interview, trying to make yourself look more professional than you are.”

Each very accurate comparison felt like a stab to your back. “Damn! Tell me how you feel. Sho, fuck.” She opened her mouth, and you quickly raised your hand, silencing her. “Wait, no, please don't,” Shoko smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, what do you suggest I do?” Shoko, head to your closet, opening the door wide.

“The red one.”

Nanami arrived at your door right on time. He took a deep breath, adjusting his burgundy tie, before knocking on the door. Tonight was the night he was going to confess how he felt, how he wanted to be more than friends. His nerves were strong as iron as he focused on the door. There was nothing in the world that would stop him.

Your door opened, and Nanami swore he felt like you had personally punched him in the gut. You looked stunning. The tight red fabric clung to your waist showing over your unique curves; his eyes trailed lower, and god, the dress's sides were slit open, allowing him to get a peek at your succulent thick thighs. You had never dressed like this around him before; by god, you were like a masterpiece right off a canvas.

“Kento, are you okay?” His eyes glued on you and you alone, leaving you slightly flushed.

Your best friend shook his head, blinking before his gaze met you. “Oh, uhm, yes, yes, I am.” He did another quick glance over you. “I’m sorry, I just, I’ve never—” His eyes were glued on the slit in the dress. His expression was almost unreadable, making you feel like shrinking in on yourself.

This was the first time you’d ever worn anything this revealing around him. Usually, you wore loose-fitting clothes, so wearing a form-fitting gown was different. Something that had rendered him speechless. Which could be a good thing or a bad thing. That was something you didn’t care to find out about.

“Different,” you answered for him instead, gripping your clutch as you stepped out. “So, uhm, should we get going?”

“Of course.”

That initial interaction had set the tone for your entire evening. The drive to the delicious restaurant was quiet with stolen glances. Ones solely focused on your hips and your thighs. You had hoped maybe things would settle down once you sat down to eat at the restaurant. But things only seem to progress into something more. Nanami’s eyes seemed to linger on other patrons at the restaurant who passed you by.

Maybe wearing this dress was a mistake. You felt exposed to your best friend in the entire world and anyone that passed by. You tried to focus on what Shoko had told you to envision when she pulled the dress from the back of your closet.

‘You’re a badass sexy bitch, own it!’

Yeah, owning it wasn't something you’d ever been comfortable doing. You had been a little thicker than others the entirety of your life. Dealing with that, being called names has taught you how to conceal yourself. If you wore all black and hid your supposed flaws behind layers of clothes, you would worry about anyone staring at you, which is exactly what everyone was doing.

Having people glance you over made your stomach sour as you tried to enjoy your food. You wanted to play it cool and make it look like nothing was wrong, but your attempts didn't go unnoticed. Nanami could see how you shifted; a visible unease etched into your pretty features.

That unease had you hugging yourself as you walked to the theater. You had hardly said a word to each other, and the tension felt thick. While you felt uncomfortable showing off so much, Nanami was beginning to think maybe you weren't having a good time. That's the last thing he wanted, so as you climbed the stairs heading toward your seats, Nanami stopped, tasting at your back.

Noticing he was no longer behind you, you stopped turning to look back at him. “Kento? Everything okay?” You tilted your head to the side, watching him look you up and down.

“No, l.” he quickly closed the small distance between you, gently grabbing your wrist and walking you to an empty part of the theater where no one was. “Everything isn't okay.” You opened your mouth to ask why he felt that way, but he beat you to it. “I'm sorry if asking you on this date has made things uncomfortable or weird for you.”

Date?

Wait, Shoko was right?! This really was a date?! Electricity shot went down your spine as your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. No words came to you as Nanami sighed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away.

“I’m sorry; I don't want you to feel as though you have to do this to appease me. We can see the show as friends and act like this nev—”

“No!” You yelled out, grabbing his hand and holding it. “No! I want this to be a date! I-I thought we were—going as friends.”

Nanami’s face relaxed as he looked down at your hand gripping his. ”I guess I wasn't as clear with my intentions as I thought.” Honey-brown eyes trailed over your exposed skin. “But may I ask you a question?” You nodded. “What’s made you so distant tonight.”

“Oh, I just haven't—I don't normally dress like this.” you motioned down to the silk dress, hugging your curves in all the right places. “And, I—ugh, it's silly.”

“It's not silly if it’s coming from you; please tell me, talk to me.”

“Well, you seemed stunned by my outfit. And you've been quiet all evening, staring at other people. So I thought maybe you were a bit embarrassed. I know I’m not the thinnest girl out there.”

In the blink of an eye, Nanami had you pushed against the nearest wall, out of sight from anyone who may pass you by. Both his large hands slammed against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in. You gasped, looking up to find a burning desire in his eyes that you had never seen before.

“Embarrassed? You seriously thought I was embarrassed?” His hand slowly trailed down your curves. “Darling,” he learned next to your mouth, the smell of wine and chocolate from dinner lingering on his breath. “I find you stunning. I'm more embarrassed by myself for letting my mind wander when it comes to how good you look in this dress. Do you know how hard it was to stop myself from gouging out the eyes of every man eye-fucking you at the restaurant?”

You began panting as his hand trailed lower, teasing the exposed skin that peeked out from the slit in the dress. “T-That’s why you were glaring n-nngh.” Nanami hooked his hand under your thigh, lifting it to actress your sensitive skin more freely.

“Yes, I couldn't stand the way they were undressing you right in front of me.” The warmth of his fingers sent shivers throughout your body. “But I’m afraid to admit I’m not better than them.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Because I have wanted to do nothing more than kiss you since you opened your door this evening. Your curves, dress fit, and everything about you are stunning, no matter what you wear. But seeing you all dolled up for the first time had left me longing for you in primal ways.”

You hooked your foot around the back of his thigh, watching his warm eyes grow wide as you grabbed his face, smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss. Nanami moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he dug his fingers into the fat of your thigh, squeezing and massaging it. The tender, careless feel of his lips against yours had you whining into his mouth as his tongue caressed your bottom lip.

The kiss was searing, full of desire, as Kento found himself shamelessly rocking his hips against you, trying to close the thin layers of clothes between you. Each kiss, each careless set your skin ablaze with need, as the taste of chocolate and white wine felt like fermenting into an aphrodisiac. With each kiss, you fell deeper and deeper into the passion, leaving you feeling drunk.

Nanami broke the kiss, pulling back far enough that a string of saliva connected your lips. “T-That was unexpected.” He admitted, fingers trailing further up your leg.

“But was it good?”

“It was the best kiss I’ve ever shared with someone. So yes, it was unexpected but good.” The way Nanami’s hands roamed over you left you feeling overly sensitive as you gripped his upper arms. “You're so beautiful. God, I wish I could take you home and truly worship every inch of your body.”

“Well, the show only lasts two hours.”

“Which is going to feel like a millennium when you're sitting next to me looking like some kind of goddess.”

“Goddess?” You mischievously grinned, running your hand slowly down his chest. “I like the sound of that.”

Nanami grinned, squeezing your thigh before leaning next to your ear. “After this show, can I take you back to my apartment and show my devotion to you? Worship your body as if it were your temple?” You moaned, melting like butter against his chest.

“Yes, god, I would love that.”

“Good, I‘ll be sure to worship you thoroughly.”

Gojo Satoru:

Gojo had a problem with your butt, and that problem was that he was obsessed with it. Every time you reached for something, your best friend made it a point to grab a handful of your big ole booty and squeeze it, which didn't bother you. If anything, you were flattered that this six-three muscular man likes your ass.

Because Gojo was gorgeous, with tufts of pristine white hair, cerulean eyes that reminded you of the blues oceans, and lashes you would kill for, having someone like him rubbing your ass was a cnficmsence booster. You adored him and knew deep down inside that adoration for him would never grow into something else because you were just friends, nothing more.

Because you were a curvy queen, and Gojo was a gym rat. It didn't matter if that butt squeezes and long hugs often left you fantasizing about a more romantic relationship with him. You could dream and fantasize about that as long as you wanted, but that reality probably would never come to be.

But that wouldn't stop you from secretly praying and hoping for that reality to be manifested.

Most of your girlfriends supported you both; they tried to get you to ask him out, while his friends felt the same way as yours. All of your friends could see you both getting together. But not everybody was as kind.

“Hello, dearie!” You shifted the brown grocery bags in your arms as you turned to look at your elderly neighbor and her grandson getting on the elevator with you.

“Hi, how are you?” You smiled sweetly as the elevator began moving up to the fourth floor.

“Oh, we're doing great! Where’s that boyfriend of yours? The tall, handsome one.”

Hearing her call Gojo, your boyfriend, left you feeling butterflies as you shifted the bags again. “Oh, Toru? He’s at the gym, and we’re just—” Her grandson scoffed, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes

“They're not dating grandma.”

“Oh, sure they are!” She grinned, tilting her head to look up at her rude grandson. “What even makes you say they aren't?”

“He’s fit and handsome, and she's got a fat ass and a gut.”

You winced at the sting of his words as the elevator stopped on your floor. “Takashi!” Your neighbor snapped at the older man, rolling his eyes. “That was rude! She's a beautiful young woman, apologizes.”

“Look, I’m sorry.” He shrugged as the three of you stepped off of the elevator. “I just know you ain't my type. I don't like,” he gestured over to you, “this.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, I’m not into assholes myself.” You grinned sourly at the man before storming towards your apartment.

“Takashi!”

You ignored the pleading from your neighbor and the apologies she shouted. None of that shit mattered, not to you. You loved yourself and your body, and someday, you would find somebody who loved you for you. They would show up someday.

While you did your absolute best not to let the comments from the jerk bother you, your heart still aches as you put away your groceries. You hated men like him. Men who found it necessary to point out a woman’s flaws, to put them down.

It soured your mood, making you pout as you grumbled and shoved things in cabinets. You were fuming so much you barely heard the knock on your front or when the door unlocked courtesy of the spare key you had made. You didn’t realize anyone was there until hands grabbed your hips while loading the fridge. Fear rose in your throat as you began to scream, only to have a hand clasp over your mouth, silencing you.

“Easy, sweetheart! It’s just me.” The smooth, almost sultry voice had you relaxing as Gojo chuckled warmly behind you, his hand pulling away from your mouth. “You listening to music or something?” He questioned, dropping his chin on your shoulder to examine your ears, finding no earbuds.

“No.” You bluntly stated before pulling away from your best friend and shutting the door.

“Oof, someone’s angry.” The warmth of your best friend followed you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you as tight as he could. “Angry that you hadn’t seen me in a while~?”

Your anger faded as the smell of clean linen and musk invaded your senses. You found yourself melting into his touch, tilting your head back to ring him, staring down at you with big sparkly eyes that glimmered with amusement. No matter your mood, Satoru always seemed to make you feel better

“I’m fine—it was just a crappy day.”

Gojo hummed, pressing his lips together as he swayed with you. “I’m sorry, Sweetie; what made it so bad?” You hesitated before groaning, knowing if you were to tell him the truth, it most likely would end with him doing something irrational. But you also hated lying to your best friend.

“It was just a lot of running around, going to the store.” You sighed. “Plus, I just haven’t been feeling good.”

In the flash of an eye, you were whipped around and turned to face Satoru, whose hand reached up to feel your forehead. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, continuing to think if you had a fever. “You aren’t dizzy? Feeling sick, are you?” Your cheeks burned, losing yourself in the concerned look in his eyes.

“N-No, not like that, not like that at all.”

Gojo pulled his hand away, dropping it to his side. “Okay, then, what’s wrong?” he asked, watching you carefully. That careful gaze had you frowning as you sighed.

“I feel a bit bad about myself.” When your best friend copped an eyebrow at you as if you were speaking another language, you sighed, smacking his arm playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time understanding why you feel bad about yourself.”

This time, you looked at him as if he was speaking some alien language. The man was cut out of a magazine. he was over six-feet tall had the most beautiful eyes, and he was handsome. There was no denying your best friend was good-looking. So, it only made sense that he wouldn’t understand how some people have insecurities about themselves.

Gesture vaguely towards his body, moving your hand up and down as you focus on the mirror behind him. The last thing you wanted to make contact with him at the moment. Because he might not be secure about himself, he can read you like a damn book.

“You wouldn’t understand what it’s like. You’re molded out of clay and given life by the gods themselves.” you moved your hand, gesturing to yourself. “I’m just curvy beyond all means. Unfortunately, not a lot of people are into that kind of thing. They don’t like a girl that’s bigger than them.”

Silence grew between you both as you tried to focus your attention on the mirror. Seeing him in such a state was shocking, but it was even more surprising to have him grab both your arms, squeezing them reassuringly.

Your mouth felt dry, and the room seemed to close in around itself as Gojo bent down closer to your height. In this situation, you weren't able to look away; Satoru made sure of that. You were stuck right where you stood, having to stare into the eyes of your best friend.

“Who said that?” he asked, in a tone that could freeze hell over.

“W-What?”

“I asked who said that load of bullshit to you so I can kick their ass.”

You flushed, shaking your head, not wanting him to beat up your neighbor's grandson, but the idea of it had you pressing your thighs together. Seeing your hesitant reaction left Gojo with a twisting sensation in his stomach. He knew something had been wrong when he wrapped his arms around you. Normally, you were touchy-feely, wanting to climb him like a tree, but today, you had been hesitant and standoffish, something he didn't like seeing you deal with.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Toru—it isn't that—”

He gave you a firm shake. “It is a big deal! Especially when somebody hurts you.” With a heavy sigh, you reached up gently, placing your hand on the upper arm.

“Ugh, my neighbor thought we were dating, and I tried to tell her we weren’t, but her grandson beat me to it saying we aren’t dating. Because you're handsome, and I have a fat ass and a gut.”

“That—”

“I know its craz—”

“Motherfucker!” Gojo dropped his hands off your arms and growled, storming around the kitchen. You were too stunned to speak, just watching him closely as he grumbled and kept looking at the door that led out of your apartment, “I should kick his ass! I really should! That dick!”

You blinked several times, watching as the white-haired man fumed. “W-Wait, you're angry about him saying that about me?” That got Gojo to stop as he turned to gawk at you. “What?! I'm just shocked you'd care about that; I thought you’d be more embarrassed over the face his grandma assumed we were dating.” Your genuine shock and concern made Gojo grip the counter as he shook his head.

“The only person that doesn't think we're dating is you. Because God, I don't know how much more obvious I can be with you over the fact that I want to date you.”

“Y-You wanna date me?” You repeated back to him in stunned shock. “S-Since when?!”

“Since forever!” Gojo laughed out loud, shaking his head as he cock his brow at you. “I'm always over here, hugging you, telling you how much you mean to me. But every time I try to make a move, you toss me in the friend zone.

The words from your neighbor's grandson invaded your ears as Satoru stepped closer to you. “B-But I'm curvy, I have a gut!”

“And I love your curves and your tummy.” You stood still, allowing Gojo to cup your cheek gently. “Everything about you is perfect in my eyes. I wouldn't change a damn thing about you. Except for moving you away from that piece of shit.”

Your heart began to race at his confession, leaving you inching closer towards him. “Y-You're being serious right now. Are you not messing with me?” Gojo rolled his eyes so hard you could hear them roll into the back of his head.

“Sweetheart, I've been serious about you for years. You just were too blind to see that.”

For all these years, you'd always thought that Satoru was just overly affectionate with you. Knowing there was a legitimate reason for him constantly caressing you and talking sweetly to you, all of your insecurities faded as you felt his eyes roaming over your skin. You could tell he was serious. He wanted you.

“Maybe you could be a bit more direct with me then.”

“Oh? You want me to be more direct?”

Gojo wanted you to nod your head before he lifted you up and off the ground, placing you on the counter before kissing you deeply. Your eyes went wide at the sudden kiss, but you slowly found yourself melting into it, your hand gripping his tank top. You kissed him back with as much passion. Seeing that sort of expression, feeling your hands on him, only fueled the need in him.

Gojo growled as he grabbed your thighs, kneading them with a groan as he seeped the kiss. “You’re so pretty, so damn pretty.” He whispered against your swollen lips. “All these other boys are stupid.” You moaned happily as he trailed his hand up further, sliding them. “Which I’m so thankful for.” He trailed kisses along your jaw with a sigh. “God, I really wanna beat his ass for making the prettiest girl in my world feel like that,” he pulled back, glancing back at the door. “I really should go beat his ass.”

“I have a better idea” you grabbed his chin forcing him to look into your eyes this time. “How about you put your lips back on mine, and you kiss me and make up for lost time since I was so blind.”

Gojo grinned, picking you off the counter and carrying you to the couch, where he dropped you. He took a chance to look at all your beautiful curves. “God, you are so right.” He crawled on top of you, relishing in the way you whined and shivered. “We have lots of time to make up for, so you better clear your schedule because you are all mine until we’re both knocked out.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

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star-sim · 8 months

Text

"cheater!" ☆ enha hyungs

☆ non-idol! bf! enhypen hyungs x fem! reader ☆ summary: that one time you mentioned another guy's name, and he gets jealous (and he's dumb). ☆ genre: fluff, humor, dumb dumb boys, very minor angst/hurt/comfort in jay's part, cross between short scenarios and bullet points ☆ warning(s)? mentions of cheating obv, misunderstandings, ☆ not edited lolz also if ur @/archlstarvlle get off my dick again and stop plagiarizing me (and other authors bruh)

heeseung ☆

poor guy

you and him were going to a party later

and you were planning on putting ribbons in your hair

except you didn't have ribbons!

time to go to your nearest craft store: michael's.

"Baaaabe," you whined, prying Heeseung's grabby hands away from you. "I need to go."

Heeseung kept his arms wrapped around you, pressing his cheeks into your back. He threw his leg around yours, pulling you ever closer to him.

"Nooooo," he drawled, and you could feel his lips forming a little pout. You were just so warm and soft and comfortable. "Stay."

You chuckled at his childishness. You needed to go buy ribbons for later, since you ran out of them.

"Baby," you pecked his forehead, trying to shake yourself free of your clingy boyfriend. "I need to go to Michael's."

You felt Heeseung's body go frigid for a moment, before his arms loosened altogether around you, allowing you to escape his grip.

When you pulled away, while you continued to happily chirp about whatever was on your mind to your boyfriend, your words fell upon deaf ears.

Heeseung pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it pensively.

heeseung was actually going insane

WHO IS MICHAEL??? AND WHY ARE YOU GOING TO HIM??

heeseung swears he's never heard you talk of someone named michael, let alone a friend named michael

how could you drop the name of some OTHER MAN so casually???

and the nail in the coffin was what you said next

"Michael's has some pretty cool things," you chatted, your back turned to your boyfriend as you fixed your lip gloss. "So, let me know if you need anything from there.

michael... cool... things....

if heeseung wasn't already fighting for his life, he was now fighting a million wars at once.

you told heeseung that he was cool and handsome and cute and all the words in the dictionary all the time.... and you made sure to let him know that your words were exclusive to him

so for you to say that SOME RANDOM DUDE NAMED MICHAEL WAS COOL?????

"I don't think you've ever been to Michael's, so I think—"

Heeseung abruptly stood up from the bed that he was lying in, in such a sudden and dramatic way that you snapped your head over to him, as he was quite loud with it.

There your tall boyfriend stood, completely still, with a deep frown on his face.

"Babe, are you okay—"

"I'm going with you," Heeseung announced, his voice filled with such a passion and vigor that it nearly shook. He looked so indignant and solemn, you almost felt worried. With finger air-quotes, he said with a subtle eye-roll, "I will go with you to this 'Michaels.' "

You blinked at him obliviously, before a smile grew on your face. You didn't know that Heeseung was so curious about the local craft store called Michael's, but you were not going to question it.

"Okay!"

heeseung was just WAITING

he let you take the wheel and while he sat in your passenger's seat he was rubbing his knuckles, WAITING TO THROW A FIST AT THIS MICHAEL GUY

would a black eye suffice? or maybe a broken nose....

he glanced over at you

you were just humming to yourself to the music (you let heeseung take the aux)

sure you looked so cute and innocent right now... BUT HOW??? HOW COULD YOU BE SO CASUAL ABT IT???

heeseung was expecting for you to pull up to a neighborhood, or an apartment complex, ready to feel his entire world crash down before his feet as some guy named michael emerged from the doorway

his heart plummeted at the thought of this 'michael' pulling you in for a hug, with you greeting him back brightly

no!!!! he couldn't let michael win!!!

you were his!!

except, you simply pulled up to a parking lot

to a massive store, with white walls and a giant brown sign

reading

michael's craft store

Heeseung flopped over in relief.

"Hee...!"

jay ☆

i think at this point in time you and jay aren't DATING dating, but definitely an exclusive pair that's BASICALLY dating

all your friends know about him and you report to them daily about him (theyre tired)

except

before you and jay became an actual pair

you used to call him a code name with your friends

the code name in question?

hamilton

named after your friend's hamilton beach flexcut cordless can opener, aka the first thing that you saw when you were coming up with a code name

Your heart was pounding in your chest.

Today, you and Jay decided to have a study session in the library. Although you knew that he'd be true to his word and would actually help you study, you hoped that the two of you could do something more.

Maybe he'd put his hand on your thigh, or maybe you'd have the opportunity to cut him off with a kiss. Just the thought made your stomach do flips.

As you waited at the library table, with your heart in your hands, your phone rang. It was your friends. Noticing the dirty looks for such an obnoxious ringtone, you stepped out the library to take the call.

meanwhile jay was pretty much shaking with each step he took to the campus library

an entire two hours with you? you, who needed his help really badly? you, who he wanted to kiss so badly? yes please!!!

boy was he excited

but as he rounded the corner to the library.............

he spotted you..... on the phone with someone.....

"Hamilton is so handsome!" he heard you squeal into your phone, and Jay's heart stopped. "I hope Hamilton comes soon, so that I can kiss him."

ham...il...ton

who is that....

jay knew that you and him weren't officially dating but he didn't expect you to do him dirty like that :(

as you continuted to giggle and coo about this hamilton guy, jay couldn't help but feel his heart ache

he really thought you were the one :(

except he was so caught up in his thoughts that jay tripped over his feet, making you whip your head around to him

Your expression was horrified, which only only confirmed his worst fears. Still, you stepped toward him, your face painted with embarrassment.

"Oh, hi Jay," you said bashfully, unable to meet his gaze.

Jay, even when he was hurt, didn't have it in him to be rude to you. He wanted to run away (and cry), but the way you gave him a small, sheepish grin made his heart flutter.

He planned to sit through this session, and excuse himself after 30 minutes. Keep the relationship civil, he thought.

on your end

you were mortified!!!

did jay just hear you talk about him to your friends?

although you had a code name for him, it wasn't like what you said was completely discreet

you dropped pretty obvious context clues that pointed to who hamilton was

things like "i love hamilton's heart-shaped birthmark on his neck, do you think he'll let me touch it?" and "i hope hamilton takes me out on a date after today's study session"

you were embarrassed

and it didn't help that jay was being quieter than usual... did he think you were weird?

but to jay, that embarrassment translated as the shame of being caught

the entire study session thus far, you didn't even meet his gaze, always looking away

Jay was hurt. Really hurt.

By the way you were acting, he was hoping for an apology, or some quick explanation, even if it was short and half-assed. At least you could've tried. But you said nothing.

Jay himself had questions that he wanted to be answered: how long has this been going on, if you were lying when you told him that you loved him, etc.

His lips moved faster than his mind could catch.

"So, who's Hamilton?" he blurted.

shit shit shit

he KNOWS RIGHT?

HE KNOWS THAT HE'S HAMILTON

RIGHT???????

you felt your neck and cheeks heating up

and by the way he looked solemn, you were sure he was mad at you

You froze, before all of your words spilled out of your mouth.

"Oh my god, Jay, I'm so sorry. You must be feeling so creeped out and disgusted with me and—"

from your body language to the panic in your expression

jay thought that his suspicions were confirmed

the moment that you began speaking he was ready to break down sobbing

but your next words made him stop

"— And I know that you think I'm weird for using a code name as stupid as 'Hamilton' for you, and I'm so sorry for that, but—"

wait a minute............

code name

hamilton

for him

"Wait, I'm Hamilton?!" Jay cut you off, his face pinching.

You let out a weird sound, an awkward expression spreading across your features.

"I-I mean, yeah..." you hid your face in your hands, "Ughhhh, I'm so sorry, that's so weir— Jay?!"

Jay was slumped over the table in relief, his face buried in his arms. He let out a loud groan, before lifting his head to look up at you. You couldn't help but notice the little glassy sheen in his eyes, almost like he was going to cry.

"Jay..."

He quickly wiped the little tears forming in his eyes away, sniffling before sitting up completely, averting his gaze from you.

"It's nothing," he murmured.

He was relieved. No, beyond relieved. He was ecstatic that this entire time you were talking about him. He couldn't believe that he would think of you in such a poor light.

He kept his eyes away from you, too shy and embarrassed to look you in the eye.

You poked him, and he didn't respond, so you poked him again.

"Jay."

"Hm?"

"Do you think I'm weird?"

He snapped his head over to you.

"What? No, of course not!"

You frowned. "Then why aren't you talking to me?"

Jay sucked in a sharp breath. "It's nothing."

He finally met your gaze, his lips helplessly cracking into a grin just as the sight of you perplexed expression.

He clutched your chin, tilting it so that you would look at him. He leaned in to give your lips a peck.

"I promise, it's nothing, Baby."

You leaned into him, giving him a peck, too.

"Okay," you nodded, biting back the giddy, lovesick grin that fought its way onto your face.

jake ☆

one day youre hanging out w your friends

and ygs go to a dog cafe

so cute!!

and theres this one dog that's just practically CALLING FOR YOU

he's just this little maltese named enzo and he's so cute

the two of you cuddling on the floor, giving him good head rubs and laughing as he licks you

you love enzo the maltese!

anyways so you take pictures ofc and post it to your private instagram

Jake narrowed his eyes at his phone.

He was deep.

Deep in the goddamn trenches.

He was excited to see the cute pictures you took of your day out with your friends. When you said that you were going to a dog cafe, Jake was so ready to use a picture of you and a pup (two of his favorite things) as his new phone wallpaper.

But that wasn't going to happen.

Because all of a sudden, his Wi-Fi decided to be poor all of a sudden.

Although he got the notification that you posted something new on Instagram, when he checked your account, none of you pictures loaded. All he could see was a black loading square, and the caption to the post.

at first jake was like

"its ok i can wait" even though he REALLLLYYY wanted to see your pictures

he couldn't see any of the pictures you posted, but he could still see the caption

and that's what caught his eye

you liked to have an individual explanation for each picture in the post, so your caption read as follows:

pic 1: me and enzo

pic 2: enzo kissing me

pic 3: holding enzo's hand

pic 4: enzo and me cuddling

and that's when jake stopped reading

Jake was going to start losing hair, because who was Enzo? And why was he kissing you? And cuddling with you?

He'd never heard of an Enzo. Poor guy, Jake kept refreshing your account in the hopes that your pictures would load, so that he could see this Enzo guy face-to-face. But that didn't happen.

It didn't help that your Instagram notes read, "enzo <3."

seriously

WHO IS ENZO

jake paced back and forth around his apartment, trying to scroll back in his memory for anyone named enzo

but alas

no one

all he knew was that whoever enzo was, he was about to get a broken jaw

a little frown formed on his face, as he rubbed his knuckles

were you going to leave him from this enzo person?

was enzo better than him?

how come jake never heard of an enzo before?

Jake's head perked up the moment his apartment door cracked open, revealing you. He rushed straight to you, expecting to hear you say, "I'm breaking up with you for another man named Enzo," completely taken aback when you simply threw your arms around him.

"Hi, Jakey!" you simply exclaimed, holding him tight.

Jake stood still, eyeing you for a moment.

Were you not going to break up with him on the spot?

The next thing he knew, Jake was pulled into his room, thrown on his bed, and cuddled up against you.

"I'm so tired," you breathe, snuggling your face against his chest. "I couldn't wait to get home to you."

Jake blinked.

"T-Tell me about your day," he gulped.

and you happily did so

animately, you told all about your day

what foods you tried, what you and your friends did, how much fun you had

you even told him about a cute little maltese that you couldn't remember the name of at the dog cafe...

and at last

no mention of enzo

"How's Enzo?"

Jake didn't know why he asked that, but when he did, you perked up.

"Oh!" you clapped your hands. "That's his name!"

"Wh-Who's name?"

You laughed. "The maltese at the dog cafe! His name was Enzo— He was just the cutest little thing!"

Enzo is a... dog?

Jake suddenly hoisted the two of you up, so that you were laying flat on your back. He plopped his face onto your chest, putting your hand in his hair.

"I don't like Enzo," Jake murmured against your chest. You chuckled, playing with his hair slowly.

"You didn't like the pictures of me and Enzo?"

"No," Jake shook his head, his hair cutely bouncing with each movement. "I don't like a dog trying to take my girl."

You laughed, calling your boyfriend silly, but completely oblivious to the fact that Jake was now making plans to go to that dog cafe to have a man-to-man talk with a dog.

sunghoon ☆

a man of a few words, gotta love it

this is very niche but you have a habit of making very obscure and dumb and completely nonsensical nicknames for people

like jake becomes jacobsongerald and jay becomes jameslynner the third

one day you and sunghoon are just having a lazy day

It's a quiet morning. Slivers of sunlight are peeking from the kitchen blinds, while birds chirp their hearts out outside.

While you look through the fridge, Sunghoon sits at the kitchen table, notepad and pen in hand.

"Do we need eggs?" he asked.

You glanced down at the egg compartment. "No, but I think we're running out of butter soon."

Sunghoon nodded, jotting down 'butter' on the notepad.

Every week or so, you and Sunghoon liked to have a morning like this, where you went over your grocery list.

sunghoon loved mornings like this

seeing you in your cute pajamas, your raspy morning voice bouncing off the walls as you listed to him what the two of you needed to buy for the week

the way the sunlight bounced off of you just made you look so ethereal, in your early morning glory

"Sungerson, can you write down milk?"

Sunghoon's face contorted immediately.

pardon....

WHO???

sunghoon couldn't tell if he was appalled because you just called him the WRONG NAME or because 'sungerson' is actually such a ridiculous name

WHO IS SUNGERSON THAT'S SO STUPID OMG

wait a minute....

sunghoon's heard horror stories like this before

where if your significant other accidentally calls you by another name, it's a sign that they're seeing someone else

"Oh, and can you add canola oil to the list?" you asked, not really checking to see if he was writing it down due to your trust in him. But when you didn't hear any pen scribbles, you turned over your shoulder. "Sunghoon?"

see?

you called him sunghoon just then

and this entire morning you'd called him sunghoon

but then you call him a different name out of no where and act like nothing happened

you weren't seeing someone else... right?

like...... you wouldn't do that to him

the way you acted like nothing happened made sunghoon think that you probably didn't notice your slip-up

"Sungerson?"

You looked confused, your brows furrowing. "What?"

Sunghoon looked up to meet your gaze. "You called me Sungerson. Who is that?"

"Oh." You shrugged. "It's just one of those dumb nicknames that I make up for people."

"Okay."

that made sense

completely

he shouldn't have doubted you

"Sunghoon, what are you pouting about?"

okay, so maybe the thought of you with someone else made him upset

even if you weren't

and reassured him that you weren't

You huffed, shutting the fridge door before coming over to wear Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. You grabbed his head, leaning down to give his forehead a kiss.

Sunghoon whined, taking your arm as you pulled away from him. He leaned back in his seat, patting his lap for you to sit. When you did, Sunghoon immediately pushed his face into the crook of your neck, whining again.

"What is it, you big baby?"

"You're mine, right?"

You blinked. It wasn't every day that Sunghoon was clingy like this.

You chuckled, flicking his forehead.

"Of course," you said.

"Okay," Sunghoon let his eyelids fall shut, taking a deep breath before sinking into your warmth. "That's good."

2K notes · View notes

roguerogerss · 10 months

Text

The President

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT!!, Livia is also a warning.

(this is getting out of hand now. someone please for the love of GOD stop me from writing these. also the president thing got away from me in this one and i feel sick.) (EDIT: here’s part 2 babes, as requested!) (requests r open, send me stuff here)

“Well, Felix will obviously get it." You'd hardly been listening to the conversation at hand, but Lysistrata seemed to be making a point that you wouldn't want to miss, given her excessive gesturing whilst talking, "His father was the last President, and he was great, I'm sure they'll take that into consideration-"

"But Festus is smarter." Livia cut in, snippish as always, pointed nose turned up and drink poised, looking like a judging, middle-aged woman. "And he's got the grades to prove it. And he was thought of very highly within the University, you know."

"But what about Pup? Surely he'll make a better president than Festus, and I dare say Felix, aswell." Clemensia was next to make her point, "Eugh, thinking about Festus at school, how sloppy he was," She'd turned to you, now, "Do you remember that? How on earth could he make a good president?"

"But he's different now, Clemmie, such a great husband, and he'll be such a great President, when he gets the position later." Livia was always so disgustingly sure of herself, it made you want to tell her to shut up, and then, after the fact, lock yourself in your apartment for the next few hours and scream into a pillow. "What about you, Y/N? Who do you think will get it?"

You hadn't even bothered to listen to what the rest of the women thought the pros and cons of their respective husbands being President of Panem, were. Your ears had only really perked up upon hearing your name come from Livia's puckered little mouth. "Well, I think you're discounting Coriolanus."

This warranted an eruption of laughter from all of the women around you, Clemmie laughed so hard that she had to grip your arm for support, and Livia pointed her glass at the rest of your former classmates and laughed with them over your statement. "You can't be serious!" Livia shrieked. "I mean, I know he's your husband and all, sweetie, but he's a total rule breaker, they need someone reliable, trustworthy! Your Coriolanus isn't anything of the sort."

Your Coriolanus. It almost made your face crack into a smile, and you had to roll your tongue around in your mouth to keep from giggling like the schoolgirl you once were. You'd only been married to Coriolanus for three days, but you'd had to postpone your honeymoon so that he could go ahead with his running for President of Panem. It didn't feel quite real, yet, that you'd married your childhood sweetheart, and hearing Livia refer to him as your husband, as much as you hated her, made your head spin with happiness.

"He'd be more than capable, Livia. He's smart, incredibly smart, and that's been recognised, too. And he's seen more of Panem than anyone you'd consider to be a prime candidate. Dr Gaul loves him, surely her vote is better counted than most anyone else's." You countered. Normally, you wouldn't involve yourself with such arguments. Your high school friends had been married a lot longer than you had, settled at twenty as opposed to your wedding at twenty-three, and you'd always had the gruelling job of listening in on them competing with eachother.

Who's husband was best at this, who's was best at that? Who's father-in-law was richest, who's husband had bought them the bigger house after the wedding, who's husband fucked them the most and who's was best? You'd vowed to yourself that, when the time came, and you and Coryo finally married, you wouldn't bother telling anyone much of your personal life.

"I suppose you have a point." Clemensia was easily the nicest out of your friends, the only one you really enjoyed the company of, and she liked Coriolanus, too. While the others only seemed to slander him, what with his stint in the games and his time as a Peacekeeper, she only ever seemed to speak about him from a place of friendship. "Coriolanus is smart, and Dr Gaul adores him, remember when we mentored? He'd have won the Plinth prize, for sure, if everything else hadn't happened."

"But it did, though, Clemensia. It did happen, and I think his chances have been ruined, if I'm honest." Lysistrata made her first comment in a few minutes.

"They've definitely been ruined. I mean, half of the Capitol think he's a rebel." Livia scoffed.

"But the other half think he's brilliant. A young, complex mind. Someone who doesn't think like the rest of us do." You took a sip from your drink, and Livia scowled at you. She knew you were right, and, although Livia always had a counter argument, she seemed lost on this one. "I suppose we'll have to wait. Maybe the half of us who think he's great will outweigh the half who don't."

"I suppose we will, slim chance and all, but..." Livia shrugged and clicked her tongue. "We won't be waiting too long, look."

She gestured to the television, which had been playing commentary from Lucretius 'Lucky' Flickerman, and had now switched to all four men standing uniformly on a stage, crowds surrounding them. Lucky uttered something about how the last votes had now been cast, and so it was time to announce the President.

Livia gasped and grabbed your hand, then Lysistrata's, and Clemensia took hold of your other one, giving it a slight squeeze and sending a small smile your way. "This is it!" Livia announced dramatically.

"Hold tight, ladies! One of us is about to be First Lady of Panem." It was painfully obvious, when Livia said 'one of us', that she meant herself. You knew she wouldn't even think about being happy for any of the rest of you, should it be anyone other than Festus claiming the title.

"Here, we have our four presidential candidates." Lucky announced on the television, "All Academy and University graduates, we have, Festus Creed, Felix Ravinstill, Pliny Harrington, and, last but not least, Coriolanus Snow!"

You smiled softly when the camera panned over the boys on stage, your childhood friends, your husband, standing side by side, all up for the position of President. Coriolanus' suit was pressed to perfection by Tigris, and you'd done his hair for him that morning, he looked amazing - handsome, professional, presidential.

"Now, in this envelope, I have the name of the man, out of these four, who will become President of Panem." Lucky flashed a black and gold envelope, and then stalled for a few seconds, having a pigeon fly out of his sleeve, and making an out of place remark about magic.

"The time has come." The broadcast was incredibly dramatic, and you wished he'd just cut the unnecessary stuff and put you all out of your misery. "The new President of Panem, is..."

The silence of Lucky's pause was filled with Livia clamping a hand over her mouth and squealing, you wished even further that she would just be quiet.

"Coriolanus Snow!"

You'd hardly been expecting him to actually win, but Coryo had put so much of himself into his campaign, and you felt a huge sense of pride wash over you as the cameras closed in on him and his face lit up in one of his stunning, toothy grins. Your eyes widened in shock, and you heard Clemmie laugh excitedly.

"Congratulations!" She let go of your hand and threw her arms around you. "Coriolanus deserves this, really, he does, and so do you!"

You hadn't a clue what to say to anyone, whether to revel in your glory or to extend your sympathy that their husbands hadn't won, but, when you turned to see Livia's face, bright red and obviously stewing in anger, and Lysistrata's dropped in sheer disappointment, you almost laughed out loud.

"I suppose the part of the Capitol who love Coryo is bigger than the part who don't." You smiled sweetly at Livia. "I wish Festus better luck next time.”

The rest of the day dragged on, Livia had only been letting her anger fester and had hardly said a word since the announcement - you certainly weren't complaining - and the rest of the girls were simply flooding you with questions, congratulations, and stories from when they'd been growing up with Coriolanus, as though reminding you of the fact they'd been there since before he was President.

The reporters had become an issue, too. Coryo had warned you about them, kneeling in front of you after fastening the straps of your high heels that morning. "They'll try to bleed you dry, whether I win or not. Just try to ignore them, don't give them much. All they want is a story." And then, he'd kissed you and smoothed your hair down, soothing you on what he knew was already a nerve-wracking morning.

You tried to remember his words, solidified with that kiss, every time they approached you. Don't give them too much, but don't give them nothing, ignore them where you can, wait until you've been properly trained on how to give interviews. It began to dawn on you that your entire life might start to feel like this, now, and you made a mental note to tell Coryo all of your concerns later and let him silence them for you.

You didn't see your husband for almost an hour after the announcement, and most of the women you'd been with before the broadcast were badly drunk by the time he showed his face. It was in the middle of a particularly slurred story, about something that Clemmie absolutely should not have been telling every female University graduate that she knew, that you'd felt the large, familiar hand snake it's way around your waist.

You turned to find Coryo standing there, beaming down at you. "Hello, First Lady." He mused. You smiled so widely at him, and quickly pulled his face down to connect your lips in an almost too suggestive kiss, earning whoops from the crowd of girls you'd gone to school with.

"Sorry, ladies, I'm going to borrow my wife for a while, if you don't mind." Coryo smiled to everyone, and then accepted side-hugs and kisses on the cheek and congratulations from everybody around you.

Afterwards, he quickly pressed his hands to either side of your waist and started to guide you through the crowd of people, avoiding reporters where he could and, where he couldn't, telling them he'd give them a proper interview later, but had somewhere to be at that moment. Most everyone you passed would clap him on the shoulder or shriek something that sounded congratulatory.

Eventually, you reached an empty hall, with large hardwood doors and, inside, marble pillars and polished stone floors. You looked around, amazed, you'd never been to this particular building before, but every room you'd gone into so far was a marvel in itself.

"I don't have long, shouldn't even be away from everything going on at all, but I couldn't resist seeing you any longer." Coryo admitted, face flushed as though this was a first date. You smiled gratefully at him.

"Thought I was going to die if I had to speak to anyone else from the Academy. I mean, how annoying is everyone we went to school with?" Coryo chuckled, approaching you and enveloping you in his arms. His suit smelled of roses, like always, and it calmed you so deeply that you wanted to stay that way forever, inhaling his scent and forgetting about every other responsibility you had.

"I'm sorry I left you with them for so long. Especially Livia, even Festus isn't as mad as she is." Coryo held you at an arms length and smoothed your hair affectionately. You leaned into his hand.

"She's certainly been a pleasure." You joked.

Coriolanus laughed and then, quickly, his lips were on yours, catching you off guard and making you smile against him. "Wanted to come and see you because I couldn't stop thinking about you." He explained, lips becoming rougher on yours by the second.

You knew exactly what he meant, as his hand squeezed your waist and he backed you into one of the pillars. "That car ride here, you're such a tease, and all for me, hmm?"

"All for you." You agreed, breathlessly.

"Such a bad girl, though. Getting me all riled up like that and not doing anything about it. Making me flustered, I was struggling to talk to people, just thinking about fucking you." His fingers ran from your cheek, down your neck and to your collarbone, which was exposed and red hot with arousal, "And you're so flushed, honey, makes me wonder if, maybe, you did this on purpose. Maybe you wanted me to think about it all day, wanted me to be pining for you, didn't you?"

You were quiet, just revelling in the way his rough fingers felt against your skin. Coryo’s voice hardened slightly, and the sense of authority had you sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. “Answer me, sweetheart."

"I wanted you to think of me, Coryo." You reached out and brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “I love knowing you're thinking about me."

"Oh, baby, I'm always thinking about you." His eyes raked over your body and you suddenly felt naked under his gaze. “But I think, after your little stint earlier, getting me so hard in the car and then having me walk through a crowd like that where you knew people would see, you need to be punished."

"Mm," You hummed. "And what would my punishment be, President Snow."

Coryo practically growled upon hearing you call him that, the power of it all, and he gripped you roughly by the back of the neck and slammed his lips onto yours, a clash of teeth and tongue, so rough, so hot. "I wasn't going to do this, but, I have to take care of this," He pointed to his clothed, but very obvious erection. "So, be a good girl and bend over that railing for me, will you?"

"What?" Your voice was blunt and your eyes wide. Never had Coryo asked you to do anything of the sort. You were all for commands in the bedroom, in the kitchen, even in the car, but he'd never been so public about it. "Coryo, there are so many people out there. Someone could walk in."

"I don't care, sugar, I'm the President now, remember?" His fingers had curled around your chin, tilting it upwards for you to look at him. “Don't you think it's my right to be able to fuck my wife wherever I please?"

You felt a wetness pooling between your legs at the sound of him calling you his wife, and at how horny he so obviously was, and so, slowly, seductively, you bent over the marble railing, overlooking a staircase and, below, another polished room. You pulled the skirt of your red, silk dress up past your thighs and over the curve of your ass, painfully slowly, never breaking eye contact with Coriolanus, who's mouth was hanging open and you could see his tongue gliding over his top teeth.

"That's it." He coed, positioning himself behind you and pushing your dress up even further, so that your waist and most of your back was on display now, too. He ran his hands over your exposed skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "That's my girl. If you're good, you'll get your reward later, yeah?"

"And what would my reward be?"

"I'll make you cum so many times you'll be seeing stars, darling, I promise." He bent over you, kissing your neck, “But, for now, let me fuck you, and keep yourself quiet. Can you do that?"

You didn't honestly think you could, you never managed to, even when you pressed a hand to your mouth, bit down on his shoulder or your wrist, your neighbours were still more than able to hear your whimpers and moans. But you nodded, anyway, too excited by his proposal for later on. "Good." He gently moved your hair off of your back and pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. "Good girl."

He'd only unzipped his slacks and pushed your skimpy underwear to the side, but that was all he needed, and you were so wet that it made it easy for him to slide straight into you, both of your moans echoing around the hall as he did so.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours, and your moans, muffled by the palm of your hand, were so ludicrous, here in this huge, pure white room, that it made the experience a hundred times hotter, in your opinion. "You'll be a good girl for me now, won't you? After I've filled you up, you'll be my perfect girl, hmm?"

"Yes, Coryo!" A loud moan left your lips, which only lead Coriolanus to smack your ass once, something that he only did to warn you if you were getting too loud. "I'll be good, I promise."

He was bent fully over you, chest pressed against your back, cheek to your shoulder blade, and his lips being right at your ear had you getting close, every thrust of his hips, every whisper of your name or breathy moan, the way his hands continued to roam your body. "Coryo, I'm getting close." You whispered.

"Hold it. Didn't say you could cum, did I?" You began to protest, but he cut you off before you could even make your point, "You've been a bad girl, and you need to take your punishment seriously. Do you understand?"

You went quiet, the idea of him fucking you, getting you so close only to pull you back, had you lost for words. His hand found your neck, and he squeezed his fingers around it gently, making you cry out in pleasure, "I said, do you understand?"

"Yes! Yes, Coryo, I understand." You whined, "You feel too good."

"Gonna cum." He warned, and only a few seconds later, his hips stuttered against you and he stifled an especially guttural groan against your shoulder as you felt warm ropes of cum filling you up.

His whole body shuddered, and he pressed his face as far into your back as it could go, breathing heavily. When he pulled out of you, leaving you bent over the railing, throbbing and clenching around nothing, a few drops of cum dropped down your leg, and he felt his cock twitching just at the sight.

"It's taking everything in me not to make you cum right here, trust me, sweetheart." Coryo tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear when you finally managed to stand up - albeit wobbly - and then immediately began fussing over his own hair. "But you need to wait, you understand that, don't you? Need to prove to me you can be good."

"I will, Coryo." You helped him out with his hair, smoothing it gently. "Promise."

"Good girl." He helped you to pull your dress down and fix your underwear, and then pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'll have to go back out there. Try not to murder Livia for me, okay?"

Coryo opened the door, so that you could both go and rejoin your respective parties, but your legs were shaking so badly you found yourself hardly able to stand, nevermind walk. Coriolanus smirked at this, watching you smugly.

He fixed out his suit jacket, and then leaned in for one last kiss. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"See you soon, President Snow."

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo snow

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oceansblvds · 10 months

Text

closer ; coriolanus snow

pairing ; coriolanus snow x reader

words ; 3.4k

about ; you and coriolanus have never exactly gotten along, and all of that boils over at a party you're hosting. based off of this request.

warning(s) ; smut, fingering, p in v sex, not edited, mentions of choking someone out (lol)

authors note ; please feel free to request fics or headcanons or blurbs! i hope u enjoy :) kinda got carried away with this one.

Coriolanus was, for lack of a better word, obsessive.

He was obsessive in the things that he did, the people he saw, the way he dressed, he was obsessive to the point that anyone who had even a glance as to what he was thinking would think that he was insane. It was no way to live, but the spiny, tingly feeling that rose up his spine when he felt the obsession for yet another thing growing was enough to keep him tethered in his ways. He’s a reserved, meticulous man who never let himself be seen as anything other than such, no one had ever seen him make one mistake, not since he was a young child. He was erratic, cold and calculated all at the same time. He didn’t like when things didn’t go his way, and he certainly didn’t like when he felt that someone was trying to best him.

And that’s what you seemed to do, try to best him. All the time, you would walk into a room and all eyes would turn to you instead of him. You always had a way with your words, speaking to the hearts of people and reminding them that you were the Academy’s darling. It made him sick to his stomach, the knot twisting into a more convoluted mess within his gut until he wanted to throw up what little he had to eat that day. He had never felt this way about someone before, whatever it was, and he didn’t like it, not one bit. With you, he felt as if he had no control. With you, people didn’t fall under his spell.

The party bustled all around, the lavish hall that it was situated in being filled with the noises of mentors and peers alike, all in celebration for the next Hunger Games. It was at your house, which pained Coriolanus, but made sense. You were always looking to help out, and it seemed to be the perfect opportunity for the Dean to ask if you and your family would host this gathering. You considered it done the moment it was asked of you, all you had to do was ask your parents for the money and for the time and you organized the whole thing. It was going perfectly. Many people came up to you, chiding about how wonderful the party was, how they hoped that they would get some of the appetizing leftovers from the snack table. You gave smiles, your laughter filling up the space that Coriolanus could hear, wanting nothing more than to smack you silly, to prove that you were not better than him.

It was stupid, really, considering you had done nothing to prove that you were trying to humiliate him. It was all twisted in his mind. And he was determined to make things right, whatever that meant.

He made his way to you, dressed in a pressed white dress shirt and black slacks, accenting his long legs, his usually curled hair pressed back only a bit in a styled fashion. He was handsome, there was no denying it. Your eyes met his blue ones, almost being enveloped in the sea of them as he made his way further.

“Well then, if it isn’t the Academy’s darling,” Coriolanus said, his tone nothing but authoritative, as if he was trying to make you feel uncomfortable. You were used to his slight jabs, the way that he always seemed to want to push your buttons. You paid it no mind, not letting him have the satisfaction. “How much of daddy’s money did you have to spend to pull this off?”

You rolled your eyes, pearled white teeth biting your tongue as you chose your words carefully. “Coriolanus, do tell me, is it your mission in life to be a thorn in my side?” A playful jab, something that you could easily spin out as being a tease if the wrong person was to hear. After all, you wouldn’t want your reputation to tank over one encounter. That was the thing about the Academy, always somewhere there was someone watching, listening. You were never alone.

Thorns. They reminded him of his Grandma’am’s roses, how the things would get caught in your skin if you weren’t careful enough. There had been many times where he had cut himself on the barbs, the tip digging into the thin layer of his hand and drawing blood when he had gone to cut one for his outfit. He thought to himself how he wanted to be a thorn in your side, how he wanted to poke and prod at you until he drew blood, to see your perfect image falter under his touch. He chuckled at your words, the crease lines of his smile oh so evident as you looked at his stupid, perfect face. He leaned in, the smell of roses enveloping the two of you, his face almost disastrously close to your own.

“Do you want me to be?”

You scoffed. “Being crass now?”

Of course, of course you dealt your hand in the same way that you always did. He would put himself out there, trying to get a rouse out of you, and you wouldn’t bite at the bait. You would simply leave him there, to play with himself, and it was so infuriating. For once, just once, he wished that he would see that perfectness in your stature falter. He wanted to see you ruined, whether or not he was the person to do it. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that he had to be the one to ruin you. You were his, whether you knew it or not.

You walked away from him, spinning on your perfect heels and making your way to a door, opening it and closing. It was the bathroom, one of many in your house but the one that was most accessible to the party. You needed a moment alone, to freshen up, to get Coriolanus out of your mind. This was your party, he wasn’t just going to ruin it like this by using all of his stupid words. Your hand went to your forehead, pushing some of the strands that had fallen from your perfectly styled hair back to their place, leaning in and scanning your face in the mirror for any other mistakes on your clear skin. Just as you were about to turn and make your way out, you watched as the door opened and closed just as quickly, Coriolanus standing there with his back to the door. You heard the familiar click of the lock, and the way that he looked at you made you shiver. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked him, moving to grab the handle but was quickly swatted away by his hand. You looked up at him, the height difference palpable, despite the heels you had on. He was so much bigger than you, he could easily overpower any move that you tried to make. “Let me through, Snow, this isn’t funny.”

“No.”

Your eyes squinted. “No?”

“You know, for someone who spends hours in front of the mirror, you’re not fooling anyone,” Coriolanus said. He took a step forward, which didn’t really make such a difference in the long run. This was a big bathroom, if you really wanted you could've had a party in here with a sizable guest list. Still, you took a step backwards, wanting to keep the distance between the two of you.

“What’s your problem, Coriolanus?”

“You’re my problem,” He breathed out. “Always pretending to be so damn perfect.”

You laughed. “Well, not everyone can embrace mediocrity as effortlessly as you do.” A low blow, something you knew would get under his skin and rile him up. And it seemed to do just that, because you could see his jaw clench, perfect facade that he had seemed to falter. You had caught him off guard, he hadn’t expected you to bite back with such a fiery attitude. But maybe you had just had enough of all his button pushing, of all his mindless teasing and hating on you for what seemed like no reason. You wanted to make him uncomfortable, make him know how much you loathed him. So you continued, “Jealous much? Can’t handle the fact that I outshine you without even trying?”

Coriolanus was walking towards you before you even had a chance to move out of the way, his large body caging you in between himself and the marble counter. His hand went to your jaw, the contact of his fingertip on your skin making you heat up, a small fire burning in your chest. His grip was so hard that you were sure that it would leave a bruise. Your eyes widened, pupils blown out from the contact. You hadn’t expected for him to do this, you hated how much you liked it. How you wondered if he was this rough when he was doing other things.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly liking the way that your doe eyes widened and looked at him, like you were a deer caught in the headlights. But his mouth opened, “You don’t know anything about me.”

Which was, for the record, very true. You didn’t know anything about Coriolanus Snow because he seemed so keen on keeping things a secret. You didn’t know about his home life, the only thing you knew about him was what he was showing to you now, that he had a dark side that was starting to leak out of the cracks of his perfected persona. You gave a smile, a vile, venomous one that was meant to catch him off guard. “Yeah? So tell me, Coriolanus Snow, what don’t I know? Please, enlighten me.”

He wished that you would just shut the fuck up. He wanted to put his hand around your throat and choke you until you lost consciousness, so that he could feel like he would be rid of all the sickening thoughts about you for just one moment. He thought about leaving right now, leaving while he still had some dignity left. But Coriolanus was not one to back down from a challenge, and he certainly wasn’t one to lose the upper hand. He was in control, he had to keep his control. There was no way in hell that he would let you think differently.

The way he kissed you was bruising, like he was trying to make a mark on you forever. His teeth grazed against your lips, biting and nipping enough to almost draw blood. Coriolanus was all consuming, His one hand staying on your jaw while the other one came to wrap around your throat, disregarding his earlier thoughts and instead only squeezing a little bit, pulling you closer to him. His hips pushed into your own, you could feel his bulge through his trousers, a smirk fell on your face before he was quick to wipe it off by pushing you so much into the counter that you jumped on top of it, opening your legs and allowing him to slot in between them.

Your hands came and wrapped in his hair, pulling on the locks of goldenness that you had only fantasized before in your dreams. They were soft, just like you imagined, and the way that you pulled on them had him groaning into your mouth, his lips leaving yours to kiss harshly against your jawline, down your neck, and onto the part of your collarbone that was exposed from your dress shirt. Teeth pressing against the soft skin that connected your jaw to your neck. You sighed out, hands moving down to his torso and surrendering into his touch as if saying do anything to me, anything you’d like.

And he did, because the second he heard that sigh come from your pretty pink lips he was determined to explore every part that he could of your body. He paid extra attention to your neck, sucking just under your chin, earning a soft moan on your part at the feeling. Your hips pressed against his and each of you breathed out, liking that feeling more than anything in the world. You hated how pliant you were in his hands, something you never thought would happen in a million years with Coriolanus Snow. And yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, instead pulling his head closer to your body and allowing for one of his hands to slip under your dress shirt, palm pressing against your left breast. He liked you like this, so perfectly obedient and compliant. He was going to enjoy ruining you.

His hands pushed your pants down along with your panties, leaving you completely bare in front of him. You felt insecure, instinctually closing your legs away from him. He tutted, shaking his head and taking both of his hands to spread your legs open in front of him. He stood there looking at the curve of your hips and the apex of your thighs, eyes landing on your wet center. you looked down at him while he did nothing, only staring at you. You were completely vulnerable, insides screaming for him to just touch you. He seemed to want to take his time, from the way that his hand came and rested on the inside of your thigh while his eyes looked at your face gauging for a reaction.

“What do you want, an instruction book?” You asked him, the brattiness and defiance in your tone that should’ve made him angry instead made him chuckle. His hand continued to reach further until his thumb pressed against your clit, making you groan at the feeling, your legs wrapping around his clothed waist. He was still completely clothed while you were completely pantsless. The bastard. He slid a singular finger into you, knowing that it would be enough to satisfy you for now, but it wasn’t enough.

“Coriola-”

A knock on the door made you both stop what you were doing. A voice was heard on the other end, it was your friend, wondering if you were okay since you had been in there for a while. “Y-yes! It’s fine,” You lied. “I’m just not feeling very well, I’ll be out soon!” You heard footsteps receding, and you turned your attention back to Coriolanus, who was looking down at you with a smirk. His finger was still buried in you, your pussy squeezing around his finger, wishing that he would move it. He seemed to understand what you wanted, his finger beginning to pump in and out, his thumb still pressed against your clit. The feeling was searing, something you weren’t even sure could just be described by words.

His finger curled up in a come here motion and you almost screamed, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he had such an effect over you. He could see through your bullshit quite clearly, pushing another two fingers into you and not moving. Coriolanus had three fingers in you that he wasn’t moving, watching you squirm against his hand to create some kind of pleasure. but with his other hand he held your hips down, keeping you from moving at all.

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

“For fucks sake, Coriolanus,” you said, eyes opening to look at him.

His chest pressed against your own as he leaned in, “Beg. or I’ll leave you to finger fuck yourself.”

For a moment you thought that you weren’t going to do it, mostly because of your pride and ego. the pleasure that awaited you took over though and you opened your mouth to say, “please, Coriolanus. Fuck me with your fingers. Stretch me out. I need you.” your cheeks burned in embarrassment at your words, knowing that he would never let you live that down.

“Good girl.”

He spared not a moment more, fingers setting at an unbelievably fast pace as they pumped in and out of you. His thumb massaged figure eights on your clit and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. Your head arched back, feeling him hit your g spot every single time his fingers fucked into you. Soon enough you were cumming, opening your eyes and seeing blurry vision. He kept pumping his fingers, mouth finding home on your neck to give you more marks, perfect petals like a perfect rose. You didn’t know how you were going to be able to hide all of them.

You took a minute to catch your breath and for that moment he wasn’t touching you at all made you miss his touch more than you were willing to admit. You heard the sound of pants unzipping and soon enough Coriolanus was in between your legs, this time his cock in his hands as he pumped lazily. He was big, you thought to yourself. Of course he was, considering all he had done with you so far, he was just preparing for you to be almost speared open by his cock. Incoherent words spilled from your lips, all different forms of begging for him to just push it in, and he finally gave you the satisfaction, the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance. Coriolanus pushed all the way in, inch by agonizingly slow inch, his own eyes falling shut at the feeling of your warmth around him.

Once he bottomed out, he pulled out, pushing back in. You hissed at the feeling, not all the way used to the feeling of him stretching you out but loving it anyways. He buried himself into you like he owned you and you loved it. His hands came to your hips and thrusted in and out with such force that your whole body moved with every single rut into you. He shed no mercy, hitting that one spot every single time mercilessly.

Your hands fumbled to touch him, anywhere you possibly could. Eventually you made your way to his back, fingernails digging into his skin enough to probably draw blood from underneath the white button up that he was wearing. You scratched up and down, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your breasts bounced up and down with every thrust from underneath your shirt, your mouth opened slack. The heat in the room was almost unbearable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He grabbed your thigh and hoisted it up, moaning at the new angle that he hit within you. Your eyes teared up with the pleasure that coursed through you, once again about to hit that brink once again. You were already pretty sensitive from the previous orgasm. His name sounded so pornographic coming from you that he tried his best to remember how it sounded. It was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. You looked so fucking good taking him like this. He felt as if he had everything he ever wanted in the palm of his hands. And he was making you feel good, better than anyone ever had before.

This drove his pride, thrusting animal like into you to take you to that peak again. He wanted to make you cum again. And you did, after about three thrusts from him, each one pulling out all the way and pushing in with force. his hand slipped down to rub your clit in figure eights and you came with a yell of his name into his shoulder, biting down on the fabric to try and muffle some of it so that passersby wouldn’t hear what was going on inside the bathroom. Not even two thrusts after, he was cumming, a low groan eliciting from his lips while his body stalled slightly on top of you. Each of your skins were drenched with sweat that you two almost stuck to each other. He pulled your face to meet his own and gave you a quick peck, and continued this all the way down your neck then stopping to bury his face into the crook of your neck, composing himself.

He didn’t pull out, not right away, thinking that he had gotten all that he wanted.

And there was no way that he could let you go now.

taglist ;

@obaewankenobis ; @slyhersophia ; @narcissistic-siren ; lmk if you want to be added.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the hunger games #tom blyth

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insert-this-fire · 5 days

Text

Overpoweringly Sweet

Logan Howlett aka Wolverine x gn!nonspecified mutant! Reader

Summary: Somehow you contracted Hanahaki for a man you hardly ever spoken to. Cant end well can it?

W/C: ~9k Warnings: a little OOC, angst, graphic description of coughing up flowers with blood.

AO3 Mirror A/N: I never post actual fics on tumblr but I feel that it needs to be done here. So sorry if its kinda formatted weird? it will also be on AO3!. First x-men fic too so sorry if its a bit ooc. Not really based on any specific iteration of Wolverine. Also not edited like, at all. Also I take requests! :3

~~ :3 ~~

You know, having a crush on someone so unattainable is laughable at best. Having a crush on them and apparently somehow contracting Hanahaki is even worse. How does that even happen? You haven’t even spoken to the guy more than a few words. Too embarrassed to open your mouth to introduce yourself and you work together. Yet here you are, petals on the bathroom floor and a constricting feeling in your throat. Your head lying on the back of the stall door. Still heaving from the sudden onslaught of overly sickly floral-scented petals that spilled out.

Gardenias. Pure white and mocking.

The smell of them made you nauseous. The sight of them even more so. After looking up what they meant. It just made things even worse.

Secret love. How fitting.

It’s a damn crush, and the world decided it was love. Love for a grumpy ass old man with hair that kinda made you think of a cat. Actually, he reminded you of a cat in general. One that you want to rest your face on and fall asleep. Bury your face in those pecs of his. Muscles may look hard, but they do have a bit of squish. By God, does he have muscles. You’ve caught him shirtless a few times. All by accident, of course. You weren’t a pervert. Anytime you think of it, your jaw clenches tight.

Ah, getting off-topic here. Back to the fact that apparently, hanahaki doesn’t care if you’ve ever talked to someone before.

The stall door was cool against your cheek when you turned your head, and it was less gross than hugging the toilet like you wanted to so you could flush the flowers down the drain. It was terrible. The petals surround you, and a single full bloom floats mockingly in the toilet.

You know how to cure it. The moment that the flower petals started to spill from your lips, you desperately looked for what it was. It wasn’t that hard to find, apparently some find it sickeningly romantic. Bet they never had to deal with the ache that was constant around your lungs. You found the cure for it as well. Should be easy to do, right? Tell the person how you feel and they return it, or get it surgically removed. The surgery should be the right choice. It’s the only choice. You’ve hardly spoken to the man who coveted your affection, but the thought of not feeling the tug of your heart when you see him was too much to bear. Which makes no sense! It’s a dumb crush.

God, you’re an idiot.

A deep breath fills your lungs slightly, and the pain wraps around your chest as you try to get a full breath. Your hands find purchase on the rim of the toilet, and you push yourself up. Now, on two shaky legs, you wipe your mouth. You need to clean up the petals before anyone comes in. It was still the middle of the day, and classes were still going. Thank God the coughing fit didn’t hit you till lunch, or you would have to explain to a classroom full of students. That would be embarrassing. Yeah sorry class, your teacher is in love with someone they can’t have, let’s continue with the lesson now! Embarrassing.

Your hands start to pick up the petals. Each one feels as if it was searing into your skin. One, two, five, ten, thirty. Thirty petals and one full bloom. You were screwed. You could go to Hank. See if he knew any other way around it, any way to fix the disgusting flowers that took root in your lungs. Maybe being a mutant changed how to cure the disease? That was just hopeful thinking, though.

After mulling over the choices for a few moments more, you finally unlock the stall door and walk over to the garbage, quickly discarding the petals that did not make it into the toilet.

Your feet then carry you out of the bathroom and, as luck would have it, right into the chest of the one person you did not want to face yet.

Logan.

You were right, though. The muscles on his chest were squishy. God you want to just motorboat him real fast. Would that be weird? Yeah it would be. As quickly as you ran into him, you tried to remove yourself from his personal space. You know the guy wasn’t too fond of touch. You think. You actually… don’t know. Words quickly spill from your mouth as you try to apologize. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

Logan just makes some gruff-sounding noise and continues on his way. You could faintly see as he walked away scrunching of his nose. He was probably able to smell the faint floral scent that was clinging to you. It probably wasn’t pleasant. You didn’t like the scent, it probably was a lot stronger on his end.

As you stand in the hallway after the sudden bump into your crush, you place your hand on your chest to calm your beating heart, and you walk in the opposite direction to your classroom. It hurt that he didn’t even say anything back to your apology, but that seemed pretty in character. To you, at least. If you were on friendlier terms, maybe not, but you doubt he even knows your name.

The thought of the surgery resurfaces in your head. Maybe you should get it. Ignore the deep-seated pain in your heart at the thought of losing your feelings for him. However, the repercussions of a botched removal is another reason not to do so. It could remove the feeling of ever being in love again. Would that be so bad though?

You shake your head. You have a class you have to get back to… and a phone call to make.

The day continued on like normal after that. Classes, grading papers, discreetly removing petals from your mouth into the trashcan by your desk as you graded papers. A new norm for you. It did seem that a few students had noticed a slight change in you. In fact, one of them even got you a get well soon card. Sweet, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

If you don’t get better soon, you will probably end up another statistic for the disease. How many people were there that had it and perished as the roots wrapped around the lungs and slowly filled the valves on the heart. Too many, probably. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at that. That’s why you were now sitting in your now empty classroom, making a phone call. You had found a number to a doctor who specializes in the disease. You would get some advice and decide from there what you want to do.

The phone rings, once, twice….

“Hello, this is Dr. Forrest’s office. How may I help you?” How fitting a doctor who knows about Hanahaki has a nature-based last name.

You quickly introduce yourself and ask if you could speak to him or schedule an appointment. Apparently the only way to talk to him is with an appointment. The next one isn’t for a few months. You don’t even know if you’ll last that long. You’ve been keeping track. A full bloom appeared today. A singular full bloom, no steam. The petals were loose so it had to be in the early start of the mid stages. It was taking its time infecting you. It must be due to not seeing Logan all the time.

You do tend to avoid him when you can. The thought of seeing him always makes your cheeks burn. Man was just too hot. It made it seem like you were in love with just his looks! You weren’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be coughing up all these petals. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t just his looks. The flower has a meaning, after all.

Maybe if you avoid Logan, actually stop trying to see if you can see him across the halls. Stop looking for him during dining hours. Just try to ignore him. Though unless he was going to go on one of those sudden long vanishing acts. Well, you doubt that you actually will be able to avoid him enough to live till the next appointment. You really are screwed. Shit.

Running a hand over your face with a groan you lean back in the chair behind your desk. What should you do? The surgery now seemed to be out of the question. So now you either confess and die, or you just die. Which definitely was not the ideal thing to do. You were screwed. Hands down. Your name is on the death warrant the moment the receptionist said months. Maybe you should go to Hank. Dude was a certified genius right? He would know something.

A knock at your door made you jump. Quickly you lift your head and look over to the closed door to your classroom. Could be a student, another faculty member? Whoever it was either needed you or the room.

“Come on in.”

Silence followed and then the door opened up. Your gaze turns to the door, ready to answer whatever questions that are going to follow. Till you hear the tall tale sound of boots, heavy. The sound of jeans rubbing against legs. A jacket rustling slightly from movement. Jeez, why are you suddenly so aware of the sounds?

Your eyes hone in on the man you’ve been thinking about. Logan. Twice. TWICE in one day you’ve seen him up close. See him in your space. He never seeks you out. You never get to see him up close like this more than once or twice a week. It’s like you’re in a fanfiction and someone is pushing the two of you together.

That’s silly though, this was real life.

“Oh, Logan. How can I… help you?” Could you sound any more awkward? You want to bang your head on your desk. Especially with how he was just looking at you. Should you have called him Wolverine? Mr. Howlett?

“You need to let up on that perfume you’re wearing. Can smell it all over the hall.” His face gives away the fact he smells something he doesn’t like.

Perfume?... Perfume… The flowers. Of course he could smell it. The floral scent has been clinging to you since the first petals slipped from between your lips.

“Oh, heh sorry. I’ll try to use less of it.” You just laugh a bit, still feeling a tad bit uncomfortable, the sudden tickle in your throat reminding you that you could not stop the smell from permeating your skin. That it will linger on you till you no longer have these flowers growing inside of your chest. “If I use too much again I’m sorry. Can’t really tell when I use too much or not.”

Blue eyes narrow at you, you can tell he doesn’t believe you. That he should call you out on it. “Thanks bub, it’s masking everything else.”

With that he left the room as quickly as he came, there was a slight pause and you can tell he glanced at the trash can by your desk. The trash can that had a few petals thrown in haphazardly. Thought to be hidden by the papers that you threw on top. You hope that is all he sees.

That was such an awkward interaction. You slam your head on the desk once more. God why are you such an idiot.

~~ :3c ~~

Time continues on like normal, but recently you catch Logan at the corner of your eye. Which is normal, you usually do seek him out. Yet now it’s like he is everywhere you go. Walking in the gardens, he’s out there smoking one of his cigars leaning on a tree or the wall of the mansion. You’d be eating and you’d see him a table or two away, his eyes on you. You can feel them boring into your skin. You’ll be walking in the hallways and see him turning a corner before you fully spot him. More often than not you find him outside of the bathroom you were just in after coughing up a storm. Just standing by the door like a guard dog. Always scrunching his nose when the door opens and the aroma of flowers follows you out.

He knew. He had to. He had to know something was wrong with you. There is no way he doesn’t. The man has been alive long enough that he probably knows the signs of what you have. The disease that is currently ruining your life. He has probably seen all sorts of people who have had Hanahaki. You won’t be the first, nor the last person he has seen inflicted with it either. It’s probably why he’s keeping an eye on you. He must have found out when he came to ask you to stop using so much perfume and yet you still smell that sickeningly floral smell on you.

Unless you’re just suddenly more aware of him than you were before. Which you shouldn’t be. You were already highly aware of him due to your damn dumb crush that’s killing you. Eyes are always lingering on him.

It’s probably because of the scent that’s following you around. It is probably sticking out more than your usual scent, which was. You don’t know. What do you normally smell like? Apparently, it’s something non-distinct since the new smell is pretty overpowering. If you can smell it, it must be strong.

You wish you knew what was going through the man’s head. You couldn’t really ask him. You aren’t close to him like that. Can’t ask the people he is close to either because you aren’t close to them. You kinda just, are here in the mansion teaching. You’re not a part of x-men, you aren’t too interested in fighting anyways. You earned your keep teaching. You are vaguely close to Hank though. Well, in recent events at least. You could ask him?

Yeah, no, you aren’t. You’re going to suffer through this. You can handle it. You don’t need to know what’s going on in his mind.

Which reminds you, you need to actually go talk to Hank. You’ve been putting it off, but the full blooms are startling. Every other coughing fit brings one full bloom. It has only been a week since the first bloom and with the sudden influx of Logan sightings, it is speeding up. You needed an out and fast. Before it kills you.

Thus here you are walking through the mansion to head down to his lab. Quickly avoiding anyone you see. The scent of flowers following you through the halls like a wraith. Leaving a trail of sweetness to waft into the air. Disgusting.

As you make your way into the lab you spot Hank, or Beast? Shit, you don’t even know which one he prefers to be called. You really should ask, huh. Anyway, you spot him.

When the blue-furred man spots you, he quickly greets you with your name: “It is good to see you this fine evening. What do I owe the pleasure? It is not often I see you down here.”

If you could, you would sigh deeply. The rattling of vines stops the motion before it begins. “Hi yeah uh. I got into a delicate situation and I don’t know who else to go to? The doctor I had called can’t really see me and I don’t know what else to do and you’re like… The smartest person I know so I’m hoping… you could help?” The words spill out quickly.

Hank raises an eyebrow and fixes the glasses perched on his face. The man was upside down for some odd reason, and he quickly flipped to land on the ground. With grace you don’t expect for someone his size. Then again, you’ve seen some weird ass mutations. He motions for you to sit down on one of the beds stationed in the lab. One used when needed for situations like this. Medical, scientific, not something you can throw a punch at and fix.

After sitting down on the bed, you start to explain. Words flowing like a waterfall. He is the first person you have gone into detail about your condition. How the petals slip from your lips like a poison, the tightening of your chest with each breath. The fear of losing yourself to unrequited love and dying because of it. You do not mention who it is directed at nor the fact you thought it was a crush and did not deserve to have evolved into such a disease.

The room fell silent after your reveal, a silence that stretched on longer than you would have liked. God, you hope he has an idea about how to help you out of this mess.

“From my knowledge there are only two cures. I assume you already know.” A pause as you answer with a curt nod. “I do not believe there are any other alternatives other than what has been proven to work. I assume that you are here to find out if there are any or that you require the surgery.”

“I can’t tell them… I really had hoped that you would know. I don’t.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair, messing it up slightly. It was already a mess from earlier, but you know how hands are in hair. “It’s not an option to tell them.”

“I see. It will take some time, but I will see if I can learn the correct procedure so that there will be minimal to no complications.” Hank pats you on the shoulder and motions for you to head out. He had some things to do and research to go over. Escorting you out of his lab so Hank may do what is necessary. He didn’t give a timeline, but you trust that he can do it before your time is up.

You really hope that he can do this.

After leaving the lab, you had to pass some of the other faculty. Or X-men? Yeah, it seems they are setting off on a mission of some sort. You pass Cyclops, Storm, Jean and. Yeah, that is exactly who you don’t want to see right now. Logan. Seems he is going with them. To, wherever they have to go. You give them all a small nod in acknowledgment as you pass them. Each one provides you a small smile or nods back.

Logan though? He pauses when you pass him. His face contorted into something you weren’t too sure of. He probably caught another whiff of the flowers on you. Great. The others give him a look and he just grunts at them. Somehow they understand and continue on their way. Leaving you with Logan.

A hand grabs your bicep, fingers wrapping around the muscle. Your gaze drops to the hand, in another life you were sure it would be rough with use, but it was surprisingly soft. The grip was not, natural strength hidden behind the hold. A promise that you would not be able to pull away without exerting yourself.

“You’re smellin’ worse. Thought I told you to let up.” A gruff voice, oh how you want to roll in that voice. That was a weird thought, you should probably stop thinking of that like a weirdo. God are you a weirdo?

An awkward laugh bubbles up from your chest. You can feel your own muscles tense under his hold and gaze. Damn he’s never looked at you like this before. A slight glare, crinckled nose, and a slight snarl on his lips. You must be really weird because damn was that kind of a hot look. Which somehow in turn makes your chest tighten and the tickle of a cough is trying to break free. You swallow hard to bite it back. Yet you can feel the petals moving through your throat.

“Sorry sorry, I guess I overdid it?” You pull your eyes away from his. Unable to continue to look at his face. Be it from your weird thoughts, the tickle in your throat or your inability to keep eye contact with someone. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“You’re hiding that you're sick.” The grip on your arm tightens. Not in a painful manner no, but a reminder that you cannot run away from this conversation. Which is odd right? Why does Logan care? You two hardly know each other. Sure you apparently love the man, but you’re still sure he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve seen him care for others in the mansion, a good friend in an odd way. A father figure and mentor to some of the students. Also in a weird way. You’re sure he’d brush off that idea and say he isn’t. He is.

Wait, he just said you’re sick… “I’m not sick?”

Logan's eyes narrow as he stares at you. Do you look sick? Sure you’ve gotten a little pale and eating has gotten a little hard so you haven’t been eating as much as you usually do. Does being sick have a smell to it? Fuck that is weird. Well, some animals could tell when others are sick before physical symptoms show. Maybe that's how he knew. No, that wouldn’t make sense because you aren’t really sick. You just have a big fat crush that's killing you.

You can tell Logan doesn’t believe you. “Just fix it. Can’t stand the smell on you.” His hand lets go and he stalks down the hallway to where the others had walked off to. Your eyes linger on his form as he walks away. The ghost of a feeling on your arm where his hand had wrapped around it. The slight warmth seeping into your skin slowly vanishes. God you’re fucked.

~~ >:3 ~~

And fucked you are. It’s been at least two months since you told Hank about the hanahaki. Hank is taking his sweet ass time researching the procedure, the doctor you called has called back finally and mentioned that his next opening for a consultation was still months away. Which you decide to say fuck that guy, you trust Hank can do it. The doctor probably won’t even work on a mutant. Logan is still always at the corner of your eye. A scowl or sneer on his face anytime he looks at you. Not to mention the flowers! They’re getting worse.

Full blooms, multiple at a time. Their petals no longer loose around the center. Now they are tightly packed, fully bloomed and speckled with blood as they escape through your throat. Occasionally there would be a flower that had not bloomed yet. Still wrapped tightly, not fully formed. You weren’t sure what that meant, but you’re sure it wasn’t good. At least they were not roses. You feel bad for those who dealt with that. Thorns were something you were happy that was not in the mix of your own flower hell.

The flowers aren’t fully developed yet. Stems have not fallen with them. Yet you are unsure if you would survive long enough to see the end stages of hanahaki. Your body is getting weaker and weaker each day. Your own mutation even fighting against you. You can hardly call on it now. Once you had wished to be a normal person, but that has been years ago. Now you feel like you are losing a part of yourself. These damn flowers truly are killing you. Both physically and emotionally.

You had to leave class more often. The coughs that tore through your chest made it unbearable to speak long enough to teach an entire class to its completion. Students start to worry, other faculty seem to notice the sudden change as you have to start asking for people to cover your class for you as you rush to the restroom to hug the porcelain throne to exude the flowers of love. Each time more and more petals fall from your lips, tears stain your cheeks more often due to the pain and energy it takes to clear them out from your throat.

It has gotten to the point where you had to ask someone to cover your class in full, or cancel it. You don’t want to cancel your classes, but at the rate you are going it will be the only thing you can do. Today is probably the last full class you can handle, you feel like shit. Your throat itches, your stomach aches from the lack of food. Your head hurts because of the lack of sleep from the coughing. Yeah, you might have to take a break from it all. What surprises you is that Logan is waiting outside of your classroom.

Ok it’s not that surprising. You’ve been catching him outside your classroom since he came back. It is like he is suddenly more aware of you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. You would be excited usually, your crush suddenly paying attention to you! How great is that? Yet lately it just makes things feel so much worse. Especially with that sneer on his face. You know he knows something is up, he made it clear two months ago. Though he hasn’t brought it up again. Yet he is always there. Like a shadow.

Which is honestly a bit uncomfortable. You aren’t used to this amount of attention.

“You don’t have to stand out here you know?” Papers you needed to grade were in your arms. You may need to take a break, but you should at least grade these papers before someone takes the class over. Your last bit of work.

Logan just stares at you. The slight glare, the wrinkled nose, the arms crossing making those muscles bulge out of his shirt. You had to quickly drag your eyes away from his arms so you aren’t caught staring. You don’t meet his eyes though. It was too intense.

“You’re getting worse.” Way to point out the obvious Logan.

“Good observation.” A short pause follows after. Silence falls for a few moments. “I uh, it’s why I’m takin a break. Sick leave? Uh… Yeah…” You really don’t know how to talk to him. The tickle in your throat is back again. Too soon, you just hacked up half your lung just moments before. You really don’t want to cough in front of him. You thought he might already know what it is, but he still thinks the smell on you is perfume. So no way do you want him to know the truth.

Logan stares at you a few moments longer, a slight grunt. His head motioned for you to follow him. That’s how you read it at least as he starts to walk down the corridor and only pauses to look at you. Looks like you’re following him. This can’t end well can it?

The two of you walk silently through the corridors. Your arms are still full of papers, but it seems the two of you are heading out into the garden. Probably for the best, the crisp air outside will dull the floral scent. Hopefully at least. Even if it lingers on your skin and it has gotten to the point others have even started to point it out. The halls were mostly empty though at this time. Most students are already off doing their own thing, you can vaguely hear a laughter from down the hall as the two of you finally make your way outside.

Into the garden, the cool air bites at your exposed arms. You should have worn a jacket. Too late for that now it seems. The trees are already turning orange, autumn making its way across the land. Oranges, reds and browns. If you weren’t full of anxiety you would be enjoying the sights. Especially as Logan brings you over to a small bench by the man-made pond. A bit away from everyone, but still close enough to the mansion you can dash inside if needed.

You take a seat first. The papers sit beside you. Logan stands in front of you. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He isn’t sitting. Why isn’t he sitting?

“So uh…” Your voice comes out first, awkward and a bit unsure. The tickle in your throat grows again as you fight it back.

“It’s not perfume on you is it?” Logan’s gaze never leaves yours, but you can’t help but look away. Too uncomfortable with the eyes boring into you. You never once used perfume, though you did use that as an excuse didn’t you?

Silence followed after. Your eyes looking at the ground as you kick your legs back and forth. Unable to voice the truth. Logan is still looking at you, jaw clenching most likely. You don’t have to look at him to know.

His voice finally cuts through the silence. Apparently he was sick of you beating around the bush and not answering him. Your name on his lips startling you slightly. You honestly thought he didn’t know your name, but it seems you were wrong. “What's makin you so sick that it’s leaving you to look like that and smell like that.”

You should tell him. Tell him. TELL HIM.

…

You’ll tell him without actually telling him. You don’t think you’d survive telling him the full truth. You’re a pretty good liar most of the time. He might be able to pick through the lie but he’s not that perceptive right?

“I uh… It’s.” You feel like you’re stumbling over your words, your throat constricting. “I have.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Your muscles tensing as a cough tears through you. Violently. Your body lurching forward as your hand shoots up to cover your lips as the cough pulls out petals and blossoms alike. Your hand can’t catch all the petals as they spill to the ground. Your eyes clenching shut as tears prickle the corners due to how painful it was. The other hand not covering your mouth grabs at your chest. As if you could claw the roots out through your skin. It burns.

It burns, it burns, it burns.

It won’t stop. You can’t stop hacking up the petals. Each cough brings out a sob with it as well. It has never been this bad. The scent of gardenias explodes. It burns your nose. You hate the smell of it. If you survive you’ll never be able to handle this scent again. Your body retching forward as you double over. Body crumpling in on itself as you try desperately to get some air into your already filled lungs. You would think having plants living in your lungs would give you more oxygen. If only it didn’t wrap tightly around your lungs and neighboring organs. Leaving little space for what you truly needed.

You almost forget Logan is there with you. An unexpected presence sits beside you. Warmth seeping into your side. He doesn’t set a comforting hand on your back. Doesn’t say any words. But him sitting beside you is enough comfort. You don’t think you could handle physical touch anyways. Your body would probably jerk harder at it. Hanahaki really was a killing disease wasn’t it. It was going to kill you before even getting to the final stage. You can’t do this.

Slowly the coughing fit lessens. The petals and blooms spilling from your mouth as if it was all you breathed came to a stop. Your body still hunched over, tears filling your eyes as you finally, finally stopped coughing up the damned flowers. You were still shaking, trying to catch the lost breath.

“You’re ok sweetheart. Just try and breathe.” Something large, heavy, warm rests on your upper back. Small soothing circles. He called you sweetheart, that was strange. You don’t expect comfort. You don’t think Logan expected to comfort you like this either. It was an awkward movement, but comforting. You wanted to lean into it, lean into him. You weren’t going to though. Pain was radiating through your chest and you weren’t sure you would be able to sit up straight without coughing again. Fear that any movement will bring on another coughing fit settled inside of you like a vice. You can still feel the slight tickle in your raw throat.

You taste blood.

It takes a few tries, gasping tries, before air finally was able to fill your lungs enough that you could breathe properly. Or well, as well as you can with roots wrapping around your insides. You pull out a few petals that were still stuck in your mouth and let them fall to the ground as you slowly sit up. Still slightly hunched over but no longer practically hugging your legs. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, blood from your lips smearing across your skin. Eyes on the ground where the mess you made mocks you. There's so much, white and red. White flowers that you would have thought beautiful covered in splotches of your own blood. Tainting the gardenias, tainting the meaning of secret love. Disgusting. You’re disgusting.

Your eyes linger on the ground as you finally speak. Voice raspy and strained. “Sorry.”

“Nothin to be sorry about, nasty thing you got. Seen it a few times.” Logan’s voice is gruff, yet there is a touch of something tender in there. Unexpected. You don’t like it. He shouldn’t be treating you like this. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know that you’re like this because of him, because of your dumb crush on him that the world decided was good enough to practically kill you.

Ok that’s not true. You know under his rough and tough demeanor and the huge, insensitive ass he could be. He’s caring and trustworthy. Loyal as fuck and self-sacrificing. It’s what had drawn you in in the first place. The soft look he’d give to people he cared about when no one was looking. The way he treats the younger mutants. It was heartwarming. Your admiration for him turned from simply looking up to him to wanting him to look at you that way.

Silence falls between the two of you again as you continue to try to take in oxygen. The taste of iron and earth is still on your tongue. The sound of fellow mutants distantly chatting and the occasional bird cuts through the silence. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to tell him who your affliction derives from. You doubt he would ask, but he might. You’ll need to think of an excuse. A lie. Anything to keep him from finding out it is him. He’d reject you. You know this already. You’ve seen him look at others. He doesn’t look at you like that. You just learned he knew your name too! The two of you hardly spoke before. This is the most attention you have ever gotten from him. He doesn’t love you the way the disease needs him to.

“Who's the asshole?” His words cut through the silence again. Surprising you once more. This definitely is the most words he has ever spoken to you.

“Doesn’t matter… He doesn’t feel the same.” Your throat continued to feel raw. It hurt to speak, but you needed to answer. You couldn’t stay quiet when he asked. Your gaze moves from the ground to glance at him from the side. You try not to meet his eyes but you can see a look on his face that had never been directed towards you. In any other situation you would be happy, ecstatic. Right now though, it makes your stomach tie up in uncomfortable knots.

A slight hint of anger crosses Logan’s face and his hand just rests on your back, no longer rubbing those soothing circles. You know he wants to know. The look he has on him makes you think he sees you as someone under his protection, it’s nice. Even if it is not really what you want at the moment.

“So you’re willing to die for him.” There was a short pause between his words. His tone is soft, you don’t like it. “Seen most with it die that way. Shouldn’t have to die like that.”

You decide not to reply to the fact that you were willing to die for these feelings. Why? Because you still don’t want to believe it is true. Even with the flowers clearly showing signs the crush was love. Infatuation. You hate this. “Dr. Mccoy is going to perform the surgery for me. Should be any day now.”

You at least hope it will be any day now. You spoke to him a couple days ago and he seemed a bit all over the place so you couldn’t ask him if he was ready yet. You know he hadn’t forgotten, you saw the books laying on one of the tables next to some tools, but time was ticking and it was ticking fast. You know it and now… Now Logan knows it too. You’re on limited time.

“I… can’t tell him. He doesn’t feel the same, he can’t. I’ll die if I tell him. I have to do the surgery. I’d rather chance not feeling love again than to confess and die. I…” Your hands curl into themselves as you look back down at the flowers. The tightening in your chest squeezes harder. You don’t need to explain yourself, but you feel like you have to. This way you can come to terms with it. Speaking it out loud makes it all too real. “I trust Dr.Mccoy. He won’t fail. He… he can’t.”

“Lotta trust in the guy.” Logan leans back on the bench, his hand lingering on your back removes itself as he crosses his arms. You feel the itch in your throat again, it’s too soon for more petals. You at least hope so. Logan then continues, “Remember watching someone choke on their own blood cause of that shit. Don’t want to see you on that end sweetheart.”

Logan called you sweetheart, again. It made butterflies fly around your stomach, churning with the anxiety already there. It was not the most comfortable of feelings. You weren’t expecting it this time either. It was nice. Would be nicer in better circumstances though. “Thanks Logan, but I’ll survive this. I have to…”

“Still think you should tell me who this asshole is. Could talk to him.” You hear the familiar snikt sound, a clear sign he extended his claws. A glance over was all you needed to confirm he did, the light gleaming off the metal.

“God no! Sure actions speak louder than words for him, but it wont help.” Because he’d be threatening himself. You couldn’t help but let a pathetic laugh bubble up. Pain radiating through your chest and throat as you do so. At least you can still find some humor in this. Logan’s claws go right back under his skin and between his knuckles at your words. Though you can tell he still seemed interested in using violence against who is causing this for you. God, you wish you could tell him.

The two of you fall into another silence. Your own thoughts are swirling through your head and you’re sure Logan is also dealing with his own thoughts. Your disease is now out there. What truly ales you has been revealed without you actually saying the words. You wished you could have said the words, said what it was, told him your feelings. Though things never work out that way do they.

You aren’t sure how this was going to end.

Logan looks at you the same time you gaze at him. Your eyes meet his blue ones. You would wax poetic about his eyes, but that seems pretty cliche. Everyone always does when talking about blue eyes, how they look like the ocean, or the sky. Logan’s reminds you of steel, the silvery blue that almost matches the adamantium claws you see on occasion. There is something in those eyes though, something you can’t read. Something behind that wall everyone knows he puts up. You want to dig deeper, fall into those eyes to avoid all your problems. Be free of the pain you can’t escape. The two of you seem to just stare at each other far longer than it felt.

“Tell me when you get the surgery. I want to be there.”

“...Okay.”

And just like that, the two of you break eye contact and fall into a silence. A silence only broken by the occasional cough from you and the sounds of nature and other mutants about. You wish you could have experienced this sooner. Before your world decided to crash down on you. You’ll just have to enjoy the time with him like this while you can. Before the feelings you have for him are forever torn away. Leaving only a hollow space in your chest for the fellow mutant.

You’re not ready.

~~ :3 !! ~~

Hank Mccoy finally let you know he was ready to do the surgery a few days after your chat with Logan. You weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to lose these feelings, you didn’t want the complications that may follow, but fuck you don’t want to die either. You will die if you don’t do this surgery. You can’t… You have to do this.

Which is why you are outside of the room Logan usually occupies when he is in the mansion. You've been standing outside of his room for what felt like hours now. You knew he probably could hear your heartbeat, but he isn’t coming out. He asked to be there when you got the surgery. He wanted to support you for some reason. You could just go, leave and get the surgery without telling him. Your anxiety welling up along with the urge to throw up. Your hand is already raised before you could stop yourself and you knock three times.

Silence follows after. The sound of shuffling and the door opens. Logan standing there in one of those slutty little white tank tops and jeans. A classic look that was all too hot in your opinion. Your mouth feels dry as he looks at you.

“I’m getting it now.” You rub your arm, unable to look him in the eyes. You do look at his face though. Just long enough to see shock cross his face for a few seconds, which quickly vanished back behind his usual look. Logan steps out of his room and shuts the door, head tilting to the side a bit as he waits for you to start walking to Hank’s lab.

The two of you walk silently through the halls. It was late in the afternoon. You could have gotten it earlier in the day but your body was so exhausted from the coughing fit you had that night that you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. In fact you’re still in your pajamas mostly. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. Comfy. You’re going into surgery, you deserve not to dress up for it. Logan doesn’t comment on it either so it’s fine. You’re fine.

Everything is fine.

The two of you enter the lab quietly. No one else seems to be here but Hank. After all, one else knew. People knew you were sick of course, but you kept a tight lip on what exactly was inflicting you.

Hank greets you with your name. A look of surprise as his eyes drop onto Logan. Quickly he glanced back at you and you just shrugged your shoulders slightly. Letting Hank know the situation. How Logan knew what was wrong with you and wanted to be here with you. Moral support from the emotionally constipated x-men. Well, mostly constipated.

After going over the procedures and what needed to be done you step behind the curtains, changing into one of those flimsy hospital gowns. The cool air nipping at your skin as you bite your bottom lip. You were scared. You didn’t want this. You couldn’t do this. You can’t do this! You don’t want to lose your feelings for Logan. He just now is starting to show you attention. It’s not fair! You shouldn’t have to deal with this! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

“Are you okay?” Hank's voice cuts through your spiral. Eyes watering and your chest heaving. Ohm you were crying. No, you were sobbing again. Your hands are shaking at your side. You glance at the curtain that hid you from the other two. You know they heard you crying, heard you falling apart. How embarrassing. Your hand grips at the gown, bunching it up at your chest as you take a shaky breath. Lungs barely able to hold a full inhale.

“Yeah… Yeah sorry. I’m ok. I’m ready.” You step out from behind the curtain. Clear concern was on the blue mutant's face. You can’t read the others. You don’t like this. You silently pad over to the table, bed, whatever it is, that is set up for you. Another strained breathe and you sit on the surface. A glance at the two of them and you lay back. You’re surprised the professor wasn’t here to help out. Maybe he wasn’t needed. Hank could handle this on his own. You can handle this. Logan was here, you didn’t want him here, but it was a strange comfort knowing the man you loved was here to support you. Even if said surgery would remove all feelings for him. How poetic.

You stare at the ceiling, unsure of what to do as Hank moves around you. Logan who had been leaning on the wall walks over and takes your hand in his. Holding it as if you would shatter at the softest of touches. You hate it.

“Offer still stands darlin’. Can make the guy love you back.” Although the words would work well in a teasing tone. There was a hint of seriousness behind it. Like he didn’t want you to go under. To have the gardenias removed from your chest. Your hand squeezes his weakly. You knew you didn’t have much time left. You had to do this or confess. Only one of those was an actual option.

Hank returns and holds up the mask. You lift your head up as he slides it over your mouth and nose. It’s too late. You can feel the tears threatening to fall again. You’re scared. Your grip on Logan’s hand tightens as Hank moves around you, making sure you’re hooked up correctly. Your vision starts to blur slightly. You try to inhale the gas as deeply as you could, it hurt. Your lungs didn’t want to fill, you think you can feel the roots wiggling deeper through your lungs and closer to your heart. Your eyes are on Logan, fear clearly radiating off of you. Your own eyes showing the anxiety inside of you. Logan just stands strong next to you. Like a silent guard.

As the world starts to blacken around you, the corners of the room vanishing slowly. You couldn’t help yourself. You were getting the surgery. You can say the words now. It won’t matter. Your head was already floating and consciousness was fading. Eyes focusing on Logan, like a tunnel. All you could see was him as the world around you slowly vanished into nothingness. Three words slipped out of you without much thought.

“I love you.”

The world shifts and the world goes dark.

The quiet beeping echos. A steady rhythm that matches the slight pounding in your head. Your eyes slowly open, only to quickly shut again. The lights were a bit too bright and everything was… Numb. Your mouth feels dry and you physically can’t feel anything. Did the surgery go wrong? Why can’t you feel anything? A groan bubbles up from your throat as you force your eyes to open. That’s when you feel it.

You can feel every muscle, every fiber of the blanket covering you. The heaviness in your chest is gone. You take a breath. You can… You can take a breath. Your lungs are fully filled with oxygen. Chest rising higher than it has in months. You can breathe. Your eyes open again, the bright fluorescent lights above you illuminate the room. You tilt your head away from looking up at the ceiling. Eyes moving around the room. Gaze falling on the little monitor you’re hooked up to. The beeping was your heartbeat. Ok. That looked good.

Your head turns the other direction as you take in another sweet deep breath. Eyes landing on Logan. He was still here, sitting beside your bed, head lolled to the side clearly asleep. Your chest tightens in the familiar feeling you have been dealing with for months. That can’t be right. You shouldn’t still be feeling this longing. You shouldn’t still be feeling the warmth that spreads through you over the fact that he had stayed. You shouldn’t be feeling the soft tug on your heart as you look at him or the soft smile pulling on your lips.

This was wrong. Something was wrong. You raise the arm that wasn’t hooked up to all the devices and set it on your chest. There was pain there, raw and uncomfortable, but there was no bump on your chest to show there was a bandage, no pain pulling at your skin. The pain you felt was all under your skin. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Your chest felt clear but you have no evidence that you underwent the surgery. You force yourself to sit up. Pain shoots down your spine. You groaned in pain and a hand was suddenly pressing down on your shoulder. Forcing you back onto the bed. Logan had gotten up.

“Logan?” Your voice was scratchy. It felt just like the times you coughed up all those flowers when he found out. “What… What’s going on? Why do I…”

“Yeah it’s me. Lay back down. Can’t have you moving around too much yet.” Logan’s hand was still on your shoulder, a gentle pressure making you lay back down onto the bed. Your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the look he is giving you. You can’t read him. “Don’t talk too much either. Hank said you got to heal.”

Yet you’re pretty sure you didn’t get the surgery though! You should be dead. You… You told Logan how you felt. How you still feel. Yet the urge to cough is gone. Your chest feeling lighter than it has since before the disease took its hold on your life. That has to mean something. Something happened when you went under. What happened? Why won’t he tell you? Why is he looking at you like that?

Logan’s hand finally pulled away from your shoulder. He just stares down at you as you stare at him. Silence falls between you two. His hand then slowly moves again. Your eyes darting down to the hand. Slowly his hand goes to push some hair out of your face. The same look he has been giving you for the past few months crosses his face. You still don’t know what it means, but it is making your stomach flip.

“Glad you didn’t die for a guy like me. World be a lot darker without you in it.” His hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. His hand was soft and warm. The touch a bit too tender for someone like him.

Wait. Wait wait wait. He heard you. He heard what you said before going under. You didn’t go through the surgery yet your chest feels lighter than it should. That could only mean one thing. Your eyes go wide in surprise and your lips part as you go to speak. Pain still itching at your throat.

“You heard me…” Of course he heard you! He was right next to you holding your hand. He has enhanced senses. He heard you confess. He heard you say you loved him. You’re still alive, you still feel for him and you confessed! That has to mean. Your face suddenly lights up. Heat pooling both on your cheeks and in your stomach. There is only one explanation. There is only one way you were able to live and still feel this way. Logan loved you back. That doesn’t make sense though! Before you started smelling like flowers the two of you never spoke to one another. Yet he…

He loved you back.

“Yeah, I did. Could have told me sooner to save you the pain. Told ya I’d make sure the guy felt the same.” His hand leaves your face. He turns to grab the chair he had been sitting in before and pulls it over. The chair legs screeching across the floor making you flinch at the noise. Once the chair was next to you he sat down and took your hand in his again. Once more treating you like glass. Though you appreciate it, you feel like glass right now.

Logan lifts your hand up to his face, blue eyes staring straight into your own as his lips find your knuckles. Leaving a soft kiss. You were already blushing before, but you swear you feel like you’re on fire. His lips brushing against your knuckles as he speaks once more. You really aren’t used to hearing him speak so much. “Looks like we got a lot to talk about sweetheart.”

You just silently nod, unable to break your gaze from his. Your hand is lowered, your heart beating out of your chest. You are sure he can hear it. You lick your lips, unable to speak a word out of fear you’ll embarrass yourself further. Logan just chuckles slightly, a deep reverberating one.

“Guess I should say it, not really good with the emotions shit, but I love you too.”

A few blinks and then a small laugh comes out of you. A wince follows after, but the biggest grin spreads on your face. All it took was you almost dying to finally hear those three little words. You’ll never look at gardenias the same again, nor will you be able to stand the sickly sweet smell of a strong floral scent. That doesn’t matter to you though. You obtained something you thought was unattainable. The love of the man you were in love with. The secret love no longer hidden.

You can now understand the look Logan was giving you. It was the same you had been giving him. You both were in love with each other but were unsure how to go about it. All it took was the flowers that no longer were growing inside of you.

You finally say the words, more confident than when you went under. “I love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart.”

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x reader #x men #marvel #gn reader #ambiguous version of wolverine #kinda a mix of different versions of him #logan howlett x gn reader #wolverine x gn!reader

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houseofhyde · 1 month

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thinking abt aemond falling in love w blind!reader.

pairing. aemond x fem!reader warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to friends to lovers, ableism, so much fluff, a little bit of smut, angst (who said that). no mention of the reader's physical description. wrote in one sitting, no edit, we die like real men. wordcount. 3.1k (this was meant to be a short silly drabble) hyde's input. couldn't get this out my mind so, naturally, i'm making it your problem too now. enjoy, muah x disclaimer ! i'm not visually impaired but i do have several family members who are, to different degrees, and i've tried to stay true to what i remember them describing it like to me. the reader in this is completely blind, however, and that is something i do not have any experience in. please, if you feel anything about my portrayal is wrong or offensive, kindly let me know and i will happily fix it <3

the first time you meet is a few days after the events on driftmark.

with his new disability, the septa encourages alicent to change his usual lessons alongside his siblings for ones held with a couple of other impaired children of highborn status living in the keep.

aemond, of course, protests.

nearly kicking and screaming.

yells at his mother that he doesn't want to be thrown in a box with all the other "broken toys".

he ends up going anyway, dragged there by a handful of guards.

sulks throughout the whole first week, sitting alone in a corner.

and he would've continued to do that forever, if you didn't invade his space.

aka sit down next to him and offer him a book.

"go away," he says, the pout on his lips pointing lower to the ground.

"i don't want to," you refute.

"i won't tell you again, go. away."

"who are you to tell me anything?"

it leaves him speechless, because,

who is he? seriously?!

he thinks you have to be some sort of idiot to not recognise your prince

the following days go the same as the first

you sit near him and hold out a book

he tells you to go away

sometimes you listen

(not without first making it clear that you're moving because you want to, not because he told you to)

other days you don't

you just sit there next to him

staring blankly ahead

not even attempting to open the book that sits in your lap

one day, when he's feeling particularly short on patience

(he had his first sparring lesson with ser criston since losing his eye and it went awfully, each hit and stumble he took to the ground made worse by the echo of aegon's laughter ringing out throughout the whole courtyard)

he asks why you never read that book

"are you an idiot, or something? can't you read? is that why you're here?"

despite how smart he is for his age, he seems to not see the irony in him judging you for being part of an impaired group, as if he isn't also right there with you

such introspection would require acceptance of his loss first, and aemond just isn't ready for that.

"i can't read," you confirm

"because you're slow"

"no."

"then why?"

"i can't see the pages," it's the first time he notices that you're not looking at him. you're trying, face turned and eyes pointed in his direction, but you're staring past his shoulder, "i can't see anything."

he feels guilty,

wretched,

and the sickest twist of comfort.

because he understands

or at least he tells himself he does

because he can't see anything either - out of his missing socket, that is.

the other eye can see perfectly clearly how you don't even flinch as you speak about your disability

and that's when the jealousy takes over.

"then what good is it carrying around that stupid book?"

he says it because he wants to be mean.

so mean that you run away and leave him alone to sulk forever more.

but you just sit there, shrug your shoulders and shift the book around in your palm,

"i like to feel the weight of it in my hand. plus, you never know when you're going to need throw it at someone"

he bites his tongue before he can ask how you can hope to hit a target you can't even see.

the hostility remains

for months, years.

but you sit near him,

he stops telling you to go away,

you still offer the book out to him.

he learns your name.

not because he wants to

but because the septa calls it out one day in the classroom

and you're the one that answers to it.

the first time he sees you outside the study room, you're all alone, none of your father's guards around you,

and that's what really makes him stop in his tracks.

"what kind of lord leaves his daughter to wander blindly around the keep?" he almost says with his usual disgust,

until he notices that you don't have your book

and you're crying.

despite his own discomfort, aemond tells himself he has to comfort you.

because he's thirteen, almost a man.

and what kind of respectable man leaves a girl to cry all by herself?

he wipes your tears with the sleeves of his doublet, waits patiently until your breathing slows, then he speaks,

"what happened?"

"it's you," you say it softly, almost like you can't believe he's the one comforting you.

"it's me. now tell me what happened?"

"nothing," you tell him at first,

until he demands the full truth in the name of his father, king viserys targaryen.

"i overheard my mother speaking to my father about me. i didn't mean to! i just wanted to show them how i memorised the path from my chambers to theirs, without an escort. i wanted to prove that i can be useful, and good, and not a burden. i heard them through the crack in their door. she wants him to send me away to join the silent sisters. she says i can't see, so i may as well not speak either. but my father won't listen. he says i'm his daughter, and that he will not send me away. he loves me too much, i worry he'll hate me for it one day."

that familiar guilty feeling creeps in,

the one he's felt lingering on his skin since the day you told him of your visual impairment.

he's suddenly so aware of the fact he can see you,

and your tear-stained face,

and the shades of blue in your dress.

"where is your book?" he asks.

"i dropped it, whilst running through the halls. i just wanted to stop hearing them, i didn't want... i didn't mean to cause any mess, i'm sorry."

in an act that surprises even him, aemond takes your hand in his

and pulls you both to your feet.

he slowly leads you along familiar hallways, turning corners he's turned a million times.

"where are we going?"

"trust me."

you know he's taken you to the library the minute he opens the doors, a whiff of old books hitting your senses.

he guides you to a book shelf, puts your hand up to touch the exposed spines

and tells you to move forward.

"stop when you feel it's right."

you stop after four steps.

your fingers grazing over a book titled Matters Of The Heart: a Compilation of Fictitious Stories on Love and Beauty.

he pulls it out the shelf,

guides you both over to a bench,

open the dust covered book,

and reads to you.

the following day, when your father's guards guides you down next to aemond in the study room

and you hold your book out to him

he takes it,

shuffles a little closer to you,

and softly recites the words off their pages.

from that day forward, you become an infamous pair in the keep.

the one-eyed prince and the sightless girl,

never one without the other.

aemond becomes your shadow, always two steps ahead or behind you.

you pick out books in the library

and he reads them to you both.

he brings you down to the courtyard

and watches how you flinch each time the clack of wooden swords rings out.

it drives him to be better,

learn to see more in his opponents than even two eyes would allow,

just so he can watch how the smile stretches across your face each time he tells you he won.

you grow so close that one day, the king invites your family to join the royals for supper.

aemond tries not to care that you end up sitting so far away from him at the table.

at least he can look down it and spot you seated at your father's side, he tells himself.

when dinner ends and music starts to play,

aemond ceases the chance to sneak away from his seat and steal the empty one by your side, both your parents having stood to speak with the king.

he brushes two fingers along the back of your hand,

a private, tactile language only you two can speak,

one that tells you it's him, without him even having to say a word.

"prince aemond," you say, and he instantly hates hearing you address him so formally. "you look handsome this evening"

"and how would you know that?" there's no hint of the malice, the mockery he once used to speak to you with, back when he was angry little boy and you were a stubborn girl.

now he's a man of fifteen years and anger is far from something he feels next to you.

he watches you shrug and the smile that he likes best - cheeky, playful - slips onto your lips

"my mother won't stop bringing it up. dashing, she said."

"is that so?"

"mhmm. but she also says my father should offer me to your father and have us both wed, what with our cripple-like qualities making us unsuited for any other lord or lady, so, really, what does she know? for all i know, you're the most hideous thing to walk the keep and i should feel blessed that i can't see you."

"imagine how i feel. i still have to see you."

"oh, the horrors! well then, my all-mighty seeing knight-in-eye-patch, would you lend me your sight one moment and tell me."

"tell you what?"

"do i have anything in my teeth?" you bite back your laughter as you open your mouth and put your pearly-whites out on display for him.

he doesn't even care if the sight is unlady-like

or if anyone else at the table has noticed.

he's too busy laughing along with you and telling lies of how a massive piece of veg is stuck between your upper front teeth.

aegon is as aegon has alaways been,

a thorn in aemond's side,

and he makes no exceptions when it comes to you.

he can't help but laugh at you both

mouth stained with wine as he saunters up and leans his face down between you both.

"isn't it amazing how, between you both, there's only one eye that actually works?"

aemond bites his tongue, like he always does when it comes to his brother.

you, however, aren't quieted so easily.

"oh, so amazing! do you know what's even more amazing? how the stench of you always announces your arrival."

it's the first time aemond feels it.

that flutter in his chest.

and once it starts, it doesn't seem to want to stop,

he seeks you out most hours of the day

and thinks of you when he's not with you.

when he notices the bruises that litter your arms

from bumping into corners and walking into walls

he has a cane made for you, to help you more safely make your way through the keep.

it's the greatest gift he can give you: the freedom to walk your own path.

one day, as he's telling you about the recent flight he took upon vhagar, you ask him what the sky looks like.

"well, it's blue"

you blink at him, wait for the ball to drop.

"but you wouldn't know what that means"

he tries to think of something else, a different way to describe the vastness of the sky

"have you ever ridden upon a horse?"

you nod your head

"have you ever ridden fast upon a horse?"

you nod again.

"that feeling, when you're gripping at the reigns, and the horse's hooves beat against the ground like a drum, and the wind takes no mercy on your hair, and, for a moment, there's this... warmth of possibility, anticipation, right here" he guides your hand to rest atop your chest, on the side that your heart rests. "that you can leap and beat any obstacle in your way, and for a moment the world is open, and vast, and limitless. that is what the sky looks like, the perfect place to race upon horseback."

"except you're on a dragon."

"well, yes, but find me a horse that has wings and i promise to take you riding up in the sky one day."

you ask him to describe more things, more often.

the forest.

the iron throne.

the sea.

vhagar.

each book he reads you.

till one day you ask, "what do you look like?"

he tries his best.

he tells you about his signature targaryen hair,

and helps guide your hand up to touch it.

he tells you about his pointed nose,

and guides your pointer finer up to drag itself down the length of it.

he tells you about his jawline,

and lets you feel that part of him too.

"and your eye?" you ask.

he doesn't say anything

but he does peal off his eyepatch

and guide your hand up to run down the length of his scar.

"what does it look like?"

"gross."

"that's funny, because it just feels like skin. is all skin gross?"

"no but this skin... it's damaged."

"i feel something. it's hard," you murmur, as your nail traces over the curve of the gemstone that fills his socket.

"it's a sapphire."

"a sapphire?"

"yes. it's like a precious, shiny, smooth, blue rock."

"what about the other eye, the one that's still there?"

"what about it?"

"what does it look like? what colour is it? eyes have colours, don't they?"

"they do," he says, gazing into the hypnotising shade of your own, "it's blue."

"the sky, the sea, your eyes. i think blue might be my favourite colour."

he falls asleep that night with a smile on his face

his heart relieved that you never asked him to put into words what you look like,

because there simply aren't enough words known to man,

be it in the common tongue

or high valyrian,

to describe how beautiful you are.

he tells you as much, when you do eventually ask.

in the fallout of storm's end, soaked to the bone and regretful,

it's you who his legs carry him to

your chambers, to be exact

it doesn't even cross his mind to care that his knocking at your door awakens you

he doesn't care, loses all ability to do so when he collapses into your arms

"i made a mistake," he tells you, when you ask what's wrong

"that's okay, mistakes help us learn better."

not this one, he thinks

you're so gentle with him

and your skin is so warm against his cold

that he can't help himself

his lips find yours.

his hands find your hips.

his breath gets lost somewhere between you both.

but that's okay,

you're all the air he's ever needed.

he feels selfish, when he guides you over to your bed.

and he knows he should tell you what's happened,

what's changed.

he knows he shouldn't be touching you with hands that are stained by blood.

but he's desperate,

and he's breathless,

and he's so frighteningly in love with you.

"please, aemond," it's you who begs for more.

it's you who tugs on the leather of his jerkin.

it's you who pulls at the cotton of his shirt.

it's you who he gets undressed for.

you both wind up naked upon your sheets,

limb tangled with limb.

"i wish i could see you," you tell him. "but i don't need to see you to know you're beautiful, aemond. i feel it, in everything you do for me."

so he lets his own eye shut.

decides he doesn't need to see you either,

not like this, his skin tainted with the smell of the rain, and his dragon, and the velaryon boy's scream.

and the truth is, he wants to take you like this.

he wants to be cruel, and damn you to a life by his side.

but he looks at you,

naked beneath him,

lips swollen with his kisses,

the shine of your own arousal peaking out from that space between your thighs,

and all he sees is the girl he read stories to.

the girl who swooned and awed over every cheesy line about a knight,

and all his knightly honour,

loving his lady in the way that's deemed right by the gods and the lords.

and aemond just can't bring himself to defile your honour,

not like this.

so even as you whine,

and moan,

and offer up your maidenhead on a platter of your unapologetic beauty,

the prince just continues to edge at both your own pleasures,

hips grinding back and forth,

lips tangling with your own,

voice whispering nos, and we can't do thats, and not yets.

"tomorrow," he promises, the spill of his pre-seed smearing along your pelvis with each stuttered thrust of his hardened cock against your soft skin, "i'm going to ask your father for your hand."

"but, how?" you sound so pretty, he can't help himself and lets his eye reopen, searing the haunting image of you naked and pliant beneath him into his mind's eye.. "your mother... she said you flew to offer your hand to one of the baratheon girls."

"what i promised lord baratheon was a targaryen prince, and i intend to keep that promise," he speaks with so much conviction, skipping over the events of his nephew, and his dagger, and his joyride in the sky. "daeron is a boy of sixteen, he can have her. but i, i will belong to you."

the will to leave you, maidenhead still intact, somehow finds its way into his heart

he doesn't fail to leave you sated, however,

his finger dancing along the pretty pearl that has you whining his name and losing your mind upon the mattress.

he keeps his word,

wakes not with the urgent need to discuss last night's war-inciting events with his mother

but with the burning desire to find your father and win his approval

he doesn't find him in his quarter of the keep.

or in the training yard.

or in his seat at the small council.

what he does find is his fear stricken mother,

his stoic grandfather,

his giggling brother.

"aemond, what have you done?"

he doesn't answer

they already know what he done,

the whole realm likely knows, his half-sister too.

so he asks what he really cares about,

asks where your father is.

"he's gone," his mother answers.

"after he heard about your business with lucerys," aegon continues. "the traitor's taken his family to dragonstone and bent the knee to our bastard-bearing cunt of a sister."

so yeah that's what i'm thinking about.

anyway, goodnight <33

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen oneshot

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luvyeni · 6 months

Text

❛GOOD SHOT❜ ( bokseungah )

p. bestfriend!bokseungah x camgirl!reader w. 4.1k

warnings? threesome, oral ( m. receiving ), handjobs, unprotected sex, facial, nipple play, dirty talk, consensual filming

request: can you do a maknae line smut (skz) please🙏🏼??

authors note. i hope you like it, this is like 4000+ words of pure filth😭 — 𖦹 ( your best friends finding out you're a cam girl and you're not embarrassed ) !

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

“o-oh fuck.” You moaned out, the thick silicone dildo stuffed inside your cunt. “fuck it’s so big, im gonna cum.” Your moans exaggerated, but the people through the screen didn’t know that, they still paid you. “fuck im cumming!” you gasped— then a song played from your phone; someone was calling.

Who could be calling you at this moment? You made sure to always turn your phone off when you filmed videos— you must’ve forgotten this time, and it could definitely be heard on your camera.

You were a cam girl in your free time to make your living; hiding your face so you won’t be recognized, even going as far as to changing your sheets; you weren’t embarrassed but you’d rather not be in public and have a random person recognizes you as the girl who does porn

Quickly finding the phone turning it off, throwing it somewhere choosing to deal with later, coming down from your high— your fans wouldn’t care, as long as they got off they were worried about the background noise. “fuck that felt good.” you giggled. “came so much.” Pulling the toy out of you, thighs covered in your essence, as you teased your clit with the tip of the toy.

After ending the video, it was time to edit it, using the blur function to blur out your face, hitting the upload video to your account. “shit where’s my phone, i need to post it to twitter.” you search around, now in some shorts and a tank top. “ah here it is.” you picked up your phone, seeing who called you— it was jeongin, one of your best friends, you’d call in him after uploading to twitter.

“okay done.” You said hitting the upload button to twitter. “okay to see what jeongin wanted.” you searched for his number, hitting the call button. “pick up you fox.”

Jeongin searched for his phone which was ringing, trying to pause the tv with the other. “what the hell are you doing?” seungmin said; felix looking up from the tv upon hearing your name— jeongin picked up his phone. “its yn.” He said, finally hitting pause. “she must be calling me back.” Seungmin watched the boy answer the phone with a huge smile. “jesus just say you want to fuck her and call it a day.”

“don’t say that— no not you yn, seungmin being seungmin.” He said, felix laughing. “tell yn i said hi.” He said, his phone buzzing. “you too, how about you both fuck her instead of jerking off to twitter porn.” Seungmin said, felix flagging him off, ignoring him, seeing the notification for twitter. “he’s just upset i paused the tv when you called.”

“ah so he’s being a hater as user, tell him I said tighten up.” You laughed, hearing seungmin fussing in the background. “so why’d you call me?” you asked. “oh, um do you want to watch a movie tomorrow?” he asked. “we haven’t seen you in a long time.” he said. “sure, let’s do it.” you said. “you guys can come here, my tv is bigger.” seungmin spoke up again. “not everyone can afford shit, we aren’t even sure how you’re paying for shit, you don’t even have a job.”

Believe you or not you and seungmin were also best friends, you were best friends with all of them; you met them during your first year of college, you and jeongin were dorm mates, and he introduced you to felix and seungmin— you eventually moved into your own apartment once you made enough money from caming, the boys moving into the their own shared apartment for second year of university.

“you guys can argue tomorrow, we’ll bring the food okay?” you heard felix say. “i have extra beers, you guys don’t have to bring those.” jeongin hummed. “okay , see you tomorrow.” he chirped. “okay, bye innie!” you hung up.

“be careful innie i can see your boner.” seungmin teased the boy. “jesus you’ve had three years and you still haven’t fucked her, even felix has gotten somewhere with her.” felix rolled his eyes. “we were drunk and it was truth or dare.” He defended. “don’t bring me into this.” He said. “and it's still further than innie here has.”

Felix ignored them arguing back and forth, still scrolling through his twitter, coming across his recently new favorite account; a cam girl he’d came across — a new video had been posted, the video automatically playing, moans playing from his phone. “are you seriously watching porn right now?” they turned to the boy.

“no of course not, it played by itself.” He tried to turn it off. “well turn it off.” Jeongin said. “im trying the phone is frozen.” He knew should’ve bought a new one. “jesus your phone is stupid.” seungmin got up talking the phone, about to turn the phone off when a song played from the video— he knows that song, that was your favorite song, he knew that because it was also your ringtone; and those sheets, you had those sheets, and the heart shaped birthmark that on your lower hip that he saw when he accidentally walked in on you getting dressed one day when you still lived with jeongin; those same sheets in your bed.

That was the first day he ever thought about fucking you, much like his other friends.

“jesus are you seriously watching it to” jeongin said. “at least do it in your room.” he scrunched his nose in disgust. “shut up.” seungmin said, trying to see if the girl in the video would speak, is she spoke it would confirm his suspicions— and then you did and it confirmed just as he thought as soon as he saw that birthmark. “that’s yn.”

“what?” jeongin got up, looking over the boys shoulder. “you can’t even see her face, how can you tell?” he said. “I’ve watched a ton of her videos, I would’ve recognized if it was yn.” Felix said. “I doubt you’re thinking about her voice when she’s naked, bouncing on dildo.” He said flatly. “this is her voice, she owns those sheet and she has that birthmark.”

Felix turned the phone off, trying to come to terms with the fact he’d been jerking off to his best friend for the past few months. “how did you remember all this?” jeongin asked seungmin. “when you both lived together; i accidentally walked in on her getting dressed, I saw that birthmark, and she had those sheets.”

“and you remember?” felix said. “and you know her voice, seems like jeongin isn’t the only one who likes her.” He smirked, seungmin rolled his eyes. “says the one who only got a boner after finding out it was his best friend he’d been jerking off too, seems like you’ve thought about that kiss longer than you’ve should have.”

“so all of us want to fuck our best friend.” Jeongin sat back. “we’re terrible people.” He said. “not really, I mean she’s hot , anyone with eyes and a working penis would have these thoughts.” Felix said. “and fuck you can’t tell me this video wasn’t hot.” He said. “boys and girls can be friends, but i know what i want.”

“i doubt she’d want to do anything, i mean we’ve been friends for three years and she hasn’t made a move.” Jeongin said. “please she flirts all the time, you’re just stupid.” Seungmin said. “as many times she’s given you fuck me eyes and it’s completely flew over your head.” He scoffed. “its almost pathetic.” Jeongin face turned red, the thought of fucking you had always been there, but seeing that video just fueled that fire tenfold.

“how do we even tell her?” felix thought with his brain for a minute and not his cock. “that we know what she does, and that we—” his voice trailed off, seungmin finished it. “all want to fuck her? Just tell her, come on it’s yn she’d had if we held this in anyway, when we see her tomorrow there’s gonna be obvious tension, and she’s gonna be pissed if she feel left out.” He shrugged. “and by the look of those videos i doubt she doesn’t want to.” He smirked. “i can bet on it.”

The next day you got ready for the movie, sitting out the beers on the table along with a bowl of fresh popcorn— dressed in a comfy pair of shorts and a top; waiting for your friends to arrive.

“leaving your door unlocked knowing anyone could come kill you it crazy.” seungmin walked through the door. “please if the 86 year old woman across the hall manages to not break a hip while trying to murder me then she deserves it.” Standing up, grabbing the snacks from his hands. “why are you two just standing there come in and sit.” You told the boys who stood behind seungmin timidly. “I don’t know why they’re acting like they haven’t been here before.”

“literally we do this all the time, sit make yourselves comfortable, i’ll get some glasses.” you made your way into the kitchen, leaving the boys alone. “stop acting like a bunch of timid virgins and be normal for once in your lives.” Seungmin said, sitting back as you came back with a few cups. “everything alright?” felix nodded smiling. “y-yeah were fine.” You tilted your head. “innie?”

He turned to you, “you sure, seems like you can barely look me in the eyes.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “what’s up with you guys, did something happen?” you hated feeling out of the loop. “just tell me don’t have my anxiety up all night for something stupid.” you sat on the couch, sitting the cups down on the table, giving them a quick glance at your boobs, really not helping the situation.

“spill now.” you said, jeongin decided to say something. “yesterday we saw something.” He said. “and me and felix don’t think it’s true.” Seungmin scoffed speaking up. “are you a cam girl?” he said, if he was gonna be thrown under the bus, he better get something out of it. “seungmin.” Felix said, turning to you. “you don’t have to answer— yeah.” They were stunned, you answered so quickly. “really?” felix took out his phone, clicking twittet, and you’ve put two and two together. “ah so you’ve found it.”

“so that’s you.” Jeongin said, felix pulling up the video. You grabbed the phone, the recent clip you uploaded to twitter playing in front of it. “I post this one yesterday, this was new.” Seungmin smirked, the other two baffled that you were so nonchalant about it. “I told you it was her, that birthmark is too specific.” He said, you turned to him.

“you? how’d you figure it out before him.” You pointed to jeongin. “we’ve lived together, we seen each other naked plenty of times.” you questioned. “yeah well felix has been jerking off to you for the past 3 weeks and hadn’t figured it out, clearly im the only smart one.” Felix face turned red. “why would you tell her that, yn I swear I didn’t it was you until yesterday.” He said, but it didn’t bother you. “felix im not embarrassed about what i do, i make content for people to watch.”

“but im your friend.” You shrugged. “the only reason i didn’t show my face is because i didn’t want to, not because i was afraid to.” you said. “did you like it at least?” his eyes widened. “huh?” you smirked. “did you at least like it?” he shyly nodded. “you looked good.” He said. “I know, I did.”

“you’re really cocky.” Seungmin spoke up. “its annoying.” You rolled your eyes. “whats annoying is instead of using your words and just saying you wanna fuck me, you try and get under my skin.” you bit back. “its been three years minnie , im not dumb, at least jeongin tried to hide it.” jeongins face turned read. “it took me a little longer to figure him out, but you, you don’t even hide it, you just try and hide it by petty bickering with me like you’re a kid.”

“yeah?” seungmin stood up from the chair, his body towering over your sitting one, you looked up at him, a smirk that he desperately want to take off painting on your face. “is that what gets you off when you’re fucking yourself with those toys, the thought of your best friends wanting to fuck you.”

He words slightly threw you off, because he wasn’t wrong, there was a few times on and off camera were you came to the thought of one of closest friends fucking you— it was him time to smirk. “what I tell you guys, girls like her are easy to read.” he said, his hand coming up to your hair, you allowed it, it was actually turning you on especially with the audience. “always desperate to be fuck, no matter who it is.” He said. “you’d fuck your viewers if you could wouldn’t you?” you whimpered as his hand tightened in your hair. “lets make the sluts dreams come true, felix is a viewer no?” he turned to the boy, who was shifting in his seat watching the scene go down. “felix get over here.”

He released your hair, his hand coming to the strap of the tanktop. “take it off, it's let doing much anyway, we can see your tits through the shirt anyway.” He moved to the side, allowing you to take the shirt off and for felix to move in his place. “go a head, suck him off you know you want to.” It was clear who was in charge of the whole thing now, and it wasn’t you.

“yo-you don’t have to.” Felix said, as hard as he was, he didn’t want to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. “but i want to, I really do.” you said. “you heard her, so get over here and stop being such a pussy.” Seungmin said; felix got up replacing his spot, standing in front of you, his bulge in your face. “don’t just stare at it, take it out and suck him off.”

You undid the strings to his sweat, putting your hand in his pants, fishing his cock out. “fuck.” He sighed, as you stroked his cock. “you’re so big.” You kissed his tip, giving it a few kitty licks. “please put it in your mouth.” He moaned, his hands flying to your hair as soon as you took him into your mouth. “fuck.”

Jeongin watched this all play out and he was definitely not okay, watching you suck his friends cock did more to him than he thought it should, his cock ready to be freed. “yn.” he reached for your hand, seungmin watched him put your hand on his boner, you squeezed him through his jeans. ““don’t forget your precious innie, we all know how much you want to fuck him.” He said.

Jeongin unbuckled his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear. “shit, stroke it for me.” He sighed as you moved your hand up and down on his shaft. “fuck.” He groaned, the living room filled with felix and jeongins moans; along with the noises coming from you as felix fucked your face. “fuck your mouth feels so good.”

“how about we film this?” seungmin said. “since you like being on camera so much.” He took out his phone. “I bet your viewers would love seeing you all slutted out like this.” He hit record on his phone, recording you having your face fucked your best friend while you slowly jerked off your other best friend. “there we go our own little yn loves being fucked on camera.”

You felt felix speeding up, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him. “fuck im gonna cum.” He whimpered, pushing your head down, making you take his cock all the way down to his pubic bone. “shit im cumming.” He grunted, his cock twitching— ropes of his cum shooting down your throat. “shit.” He pulled his cocked out your mouth, letting you finally breathe. “that felt so fucking good.”

“here hold this.” Seungmin handed the phone to felix. “i want this slutty cunt first.” He said. “lay on your side.” He commanded, you compiled; jeongins cock in your face. “why do you get to fuck her first?” Seungmin glared at felix.

“earlier you both were about to throw me under the bus and im the only one who hasn’t acted like a pussy this entire time.” He said. “now hold the camera right.”

He pulled your shorts off your legs, along with your panties. “look at that wet cunt.” He lifted your leg. “show the camera her slutty wet cunt.” You felt his fingers brush across your cunt, as felix moved closer with the camera.

“so fucking messy.” He finally freed himself from his pants, lining himself up with your hole. “gonna stretch this cunt better than those toys you fuck.” You felt him entering you. “fuck seungmin.” You moaned. “jesus this cunt is so tight.” He grunted, holding your leg up, straddling your other one as he fucked you. “those dildos must not be working.”

Felt jeongins hand on your boob, playing with your nipples; your head in his lap, right where his cock was. “suck him off.” Felix said, his eyes much darker than before, and now full of lust. “fuck, you heard him do it.” Seungmin said, you took him into your mouth, he squeezed your boob, groaning as you took him fully. “oh fuck.” Jeongin held your head down, seungmin fucking into you much fast, forcing you on his cock more, gagging around his length. “shit im gonna cum.”

Seungmin on the other hand felt his orgasm approaching, vigorously fucking your cunt. “fuck im gonna cum all over this cunt.” You moaned around jeongins length. “fuck, do that again and im gonna cum down your throat.”

Felix watched through the phone, his cock getting hard again. “shit this is so hot.” He groaned, watching you struggle to fit jeongin into your mouth due to the angle while seungmin fucked you. “fuck im cumming.” Seungmin groaned, pulling out as his cock twitched, as he came all over your cunt. “shit such a messy slut.” He slapped your cunt. “fuck felix you’ll have fun with her, real tight cunt.”

Jeongin bucked up into your mouth a few times , grabbing the back of your head. “fuck im cumming!” he finally released himself in your mouth. “shit.”

Felix replaced seungmin, handing the phone off to jeongin, rubbing figure eights on your clit. “wanna make you cum first.” He stuffed his fingers inside you. “fuck you really are tight.” He scissored you open. “fu-fuck lix, please make me cum.” You whined. “you heard her lix , make the slut cum.” He removed his fingers, replacing it with his cock. “lixie!” you squealed, he shut his eyes as your cunt squeezed him. “oh fuck your pussy feels good.”

“lixie im gonna cum.” You moaned out. “go a head, show the camera how you cum.” Hearing those words from the boy who was too shy to do anything a few minutes ago was all you need to make you cum. “oh fuck you’re squeezing my dick.” He grunted, fucking into you faster. “shit im gonna cum.” felix pulled out, stroking his cock, letting him cum spill all over your stomach. “fucking hell.”

The camera still rolling as you took a few breaths. “you want more?” seungmin said, taking the camera back, you nodded. “let’s give the whore what she wants then.” You sat up, jeongin grabbed your waist. “show the camera how you ride, do to me what you did to that stupid toy.” Jeongin said in your ear, his voice low. “come on, sit on my cock.” He held your waist, letting you slowly engulf his cock. “oh fuck.” He groaned, as you fully sat down on him. “move for me.”

You began to move up and down on his cock moaning out his name as his hand came up to your boob, squeezing. “look at the pretty slut.” Seungmin grab your face, the camera on you. “want you to suck me off.” He said, handing the camera back to felix. “come on open that mouth, you can take one more cock.” He said tapping his tip of your tongue. “suck.”

Felix got up, his cock still rock hard, bobbing against his stomach as he held the camera in his hands. “can you help me out?” you hummed , your mouth full of seungmin, taking him into your hand , letting his fuck you hand. “fuck squeeze it just a little.” He moaned out, fuck your fist. “fuck im gonna cum all over your tits.” He groaned.

“look at the slut, so cock drunk.” Seungmin said, jeongin bouncing you on his cock. “letting us use you like this -fuck- gonna let me cum all over your face.” His hips snapped against your face, making you take his cock all the way down your throat.

You moaned out, clenching down on jeongin as you came for the second time ,he hissed. “oh fuck , im gonna cum.” He groaned, you clenched again. “fuck get up.” he lifted you off of him, just in time too, cause soon he was cumming, some of it getting on your stomach and thighs. “fuck.” He rubbed your clit. “fuck cum for us again.” He grunted in your ear.

Felix came second, cursing out as he came all over your tits. “sh-shit so pretty.” His hands came to your boobs, toying with your nipples while jeongin played with your clit. “cum one more time for the camera.” Felix coaxed you. “you can do it, pretty go ahead and cum.” You gasped out, letting the knot in your stomach snapping. “fuck.” You felt your juices spray out of you. “fuck she squirted.”

“good slut, gonna cum all over your faace as a reward.” Seungmin pulled out of your mouth a trail of spit following as he stroked his cock until he came covering your face with his seed. “look at you all covered in cum.” He scooped a little bit of cum off your lip, pushing it into your mouth. “suck.” He said.

Felix stopped the camera, finally letting you rest. “you okay, do you need anything?” he said. “A shower.” Your voice was gone. “jesus we did number on you.” Seungmin teased, you shot him the finger with a eye roll. “oh really, think you could go for another round right.” Your eyes widened. “stay away from me.” You said.

Felix helped you in the shower, jeongin knocking on the door. “I need some pants, you made a mess on me.” Your face heated up. “so-sorry, there’s some sweatpants in my drawer that are way too big for me in my drawer.” He smiled. “and don’t worry about it, i would’ve been upset had it been anyone else.”

“i got you some clothes out to wear.” Felix said, all of them now standing in your bedroom as you walked out. “thank you lix at least you care about my wellbeing.” Seungmin scoffed as you kissed felixs cheek. “well how about I call the food delivery back and tell them not to come.”

“and I picked your favorite movie and got it all ready so we can watch it in here so you don’t have to sit on your uncomfortable couch.” Jeongin said now in a pair of sweats. “hmm, well thank you.” You changed into your clothes, climbing into bed. “I found your draw of toys.” Seungmin opened the drawer. “jesus you are into some crazy shit.” He said, picking up the various toys. “se-seungmin put those down and come sit down.” Felix said with red ears. “fine.” He picked up the vibrator one last time, lifting his eyebrow to show you, you covered face. “seungmin.” Jeongin pulled him to his seat. “im done, im done, jesus she just took three cocks on camera yet she’s all shy now.”

“send me that video.” You said, felix feeding you some of the chicken seungmin ordered. “why?” jeongin said. “memories innie.” You said sarcastically. “why else?” you said. “she gonna post it.” Seungmin said. “but your face is in it, you sure?” felix said, you shrugged. “I don’t care, it’s hot and I don’t have to film next week.” you said. “you guys don’t mind it right? I mean I can blur you out.” You said.

“I don’t care.” Jeongin said, felix agreeing. “I wouldn’t have filmed it had I not wanted it to be posted.” Seungmin said. “good, I’ll edit and post it next week, now I don’t have to film.” You said. “I can’t believe seungmin was the one to find out first, I always knew you were staring too hard that day you walked into my room.” You smirked, he scoffed.

“you were naked , of course I was starring.”

©️LUVYENI

630 notes · View notes

cherryredstars · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut with Plot, Light Angst, Comfort, Soft!Simon, Suggested Talk of Death, Gentle Sex, Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Aftercare

Summary: Simon has a dangerous job, and it’s not the easiest thing to deal with.

A/N: He needs someone to care for him.

Word Count: 3.5K (Edited)

Maybe it was a silly thing to argue about.

Simon didn’t deserve walking into his home after a long mission only for him to be dragged into an argument with you. But you couldn’t help it. He had made you so scared when a few days ago the other military partners had spammed the group chat about calls and messages they received from their soldiers. They had given news that the latest mission was finished and they were coming home soon. You had perked up when you saw those messages, knowing some of those men and women had been in the same deployment group as Ghost. You had excitingly expected to get a similar message from Simon, but as hours and days began to pass with no word, your anxieties had begun to surface. The worst scenarios ran through your head with every notification that wasn’t from Simon and you had to find ways to distract yourself.

So, when Simon had walked through that door, no visible injuries in sight, you had blown up on him. You had taken all your anger and worry and frustration out on him, causing a fight between the two of you. Simon had argued that since he was of higher rank he had more duties to attend to even after returning back to base and in response you argued that it took two seconds to type out a one word text like “okay” or “back”. In the end, the both of you had taken some time to cool down before regrouping and apologizing after seeing the other’s point.

Once the heat had died down, you and Simon laid in bed. You were curled against his chest as his hands played mindlessly with your hair. The both of you were silent as you took in the other person’s presence. Your hand rubbed up and down Simon's chest gently and you pressed a small kiss through his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Simon held you tighter to him and kissed the top of your head, “I know.”

Another stretch of silence follows before you feel Simon shift. His hand comes to gently grab your chin, raising your head towards him. He looks down at you, a far away look on his face as his thumb strokes your jawline. You just stare at him in silence, seeing something forming behind his eyes. When he zones back in, he whispers so softly that you think you might have missed it if you weren't so close to him.

“Do you ever get tired of this? Tired of waiting for a dead man to come back?” His brow furrows and a flash of pain swarms his eyes as he thinks about every time he probably scared you shitless. He thinks of the nights you spent in this bed, cold and alone and scared you’ll wake up the next day to receive a call to tell you that’s how you’ll spend the rest of your nights. “Am I asking too much from you by making you wait here for me and letting you take care of me when I get back?”

Simon’s questions shock you and you can only look up at him with a scrunched up face as he waits patiently for your answer. You both sit in silence as you think about your answer, but you know it before it fully forms in your head.

“No. No, I don’t. I think…” You pause, trying to find the right way to word your next sentence. “I think you don’t ask for things enough. You don’t ask me enough. I love that you let me take care of you, Simon. But, whatever I do for you, it never feels like enough.”

You pause once again and open your mouth just to close it again. You take a deep breath, your own hand coming up to cradle Simon’s jaw as he watches you. Your eyes look up to his eyes before looking away and shrugging. “Sometimes… all the time…I’m scared that I won’t get enough time with you.”

Your words cause Simon to grit his teeth and his hands leave your body so he can clench them. He looks away from your face, instead staring over your head and towards a wall. Seeing the way he tensed, you slowly start to remove your hands away from him. You know the best thing to do when he’s like this is to give him space. When you try to scoot your body away, one of his hands shoots up to softly grab your hand to keep it pressed into his chest as his head tilts back towards you.

“Stay.” He mutters the word as he stares into your eyes, scanning them for something. “Please.”

You nod, relaxing back into your former position as he forces his hands to relax as he places them back on your body. He tilts his head further down, burying his face into your hair and breathing in your scent. You smell like your shampoo and he lets it fill his senses. His hand trails down to your back and he traces words. You don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.

“I would never leave you. Not willingly.” Simon speaks up again, his small gulp audible in the silence. His hold on you tightens slightly, like he thinks someone might separate you in the next moment.

Your hands bunch up his shirt, the material clenched in your fists. You close your eyes as you take the time to breathe him in too. He still smells like the hot sun and gunpowder. You squeeze your eyes tighter as you feel tears building up behind your lids. You don’t want to cry, but this topic always makes your heart ache.

“I know. I just-” Your voice cracks a bit and you clear your throat before you start again. “I just worry. I’m worried every time you’re away. And when you’re home, I’m worried that none of this will last. Worried that it might be the last time you walk back through that door. I don’t think I could ever survive if you never come home, Simon.”

As you spoke, shaky breaths escaped you until they turned into hiccups as tears started to roll down your cheeks. You had seen first hand the way some of the other soldiers’ partners had reacted when they found out their significant other wasn't coming back. Had seen the way it had broken them. And every time, behind your sympathy and sadness for them, you find the small relief that it isn’t your soldier. That it’s not you receiving that news because Ghost had taken care of Simon. But then, you get scared again. What if karma comes back to bite you and you’re next?

The way you speak and cry into him, it breaks Simon’s heart. He knows that he’s a cruel man. He has killed thousands of people. Had walked away from missions bathed in spilt blood. Seen enough horrors in the world to last every lifetime. But laying next to you, without Ghost’s mask on, hearing what he puts you through, this might be the cruelest thing he’s done. He is a selfish and cruel man for filling your mind with those soul-crushing thoughts while refusing to let you go. He wishes he could do something to mend those pieces, but it is so hard to do something he was never taught to do. Hard to attempt something as kind as comfort when all he has known is destruction. But he needs to try, because whatever kills you, kills him too.

“I love you.”

He stiffens instantly when he says the words. You know about the twisted view of love Simon has, growing up with a family who used those words as an excuse to hurt each other. You know the discomfort he has when that word is brought up. You know how hard it must be for him to say them to you, even if he does feel that way. Hesitantly, you look up at him with a half-hearted smile. “Simon, you don’t ne-”

“I. Love. You.” He says it with more conviction this time, pronouncing the words carefully. Like maybe you didn’t understand him the first time and he wants you to. His eyes find yours and he holds a serious expression on his face.

His body is still stiff, but he takes deep breaths as he turns you on your back. He hovers over you, pressing his forehead to yours while his forearms hold him up. He closes his eyes and sighs before opening them again and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your hands fall from his shirt and go to grasp his shoulders as you close your eyes and open your mouth for him. The softest of noises travel on his breath as his tongue caresses yours and his hand comes up to your cheek. His thumb is soft as it brushes tears away.

When he pulls away, he kisses the tears away from the other side of your face. He follows the tear streaks down your face, giving a soft lick to your jaw before kissing down the length of your neck. He sucks gently at the skin, apologizing for the sting with cooling kisses. The soft moan that rumbles in your throat causes a small smile to distort his lips. He shifts his position so his knees are pressed into the bed as his hands move to ghost down your sides. He reaches the hem of your shirt and tugs on it gently. “Can I take this off?”

You breathe out a yes and he sits up, reaching behind him to grab his shirt and pull it off over his head before gently taking yours off. He throws them to the floor, coming back to press soft kisses to your collarbone and neck. Your own hands come up to hold the back of his neck, keeping your hold light and not applying any pressure. Simon hums into your skin and one of his hands goes down to unbuckle his belt and remove it from around his waist. He unbuttons and unzips his pants, but makes no move to take them off. His hand then comes back, squeezing your sides.

His hand moves to the waistband of your sleeping bottoms, removing his face from your skin so it’s hovering in front of yours. He silently asks for permission to take them off, and you silently nod before he pulls them down your legs. He kisses down your leg, stopping at the side of your knee. When they’re off, he stands up to push his pants down his legs and hovers above you again. The both of you are in nothing but your underwear as Simon’s eyes look down your body. He lets out a breathless exhale, still astonished that something as pure as you would let a man like him see you like this. He presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers into your hairline, “You’re breathtaking, you know that, lovie?”

His gruff accent causes shivers down your spine and your hands rub up and down his chest. You lean forward and press a kiss over his heart. The flesh is warm against your mouth and you can feel each beat. You lean your head back down on the sheets, finding Simon’s eyes again and smiling. “You’re gorgeous, Simon. I love you.”

Your soft words cause emotion to build up in his throat. They’re thick and it's hard to breathe around them. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against your head again, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. The both of you hold still and enjoy the peacefulness of the moment before Simon leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you. But I’ll do everything I can to keep you.”

You can’t do anything but give him a giddy smile that causes a smile of his own. He chuckles slightly and shakes his head before his hand brushes his fingers against your inner thigh. A soft sigh leaves your mouth and you grab a hold of his hand to hold it over where you need it. His fingers instantly feel the moisture on your underwear and he lets out a soft hiss. His eyes drop down to where his hand is before snapping back to your eyes, “Can I remove them? Can… can I touch you?”

“Always. I trust you.” You whispered to him. The words make his heart explode and he keeps them close to his chest. You trust him. Him of all people. Your trust may be the greatest gift anyone has ever given him.

Simon pulls your underwear off, taking his off right after. His hands come up to massage your thighs before one of his hands comes to ghost over you, watching your face for your reaction. He enjoys the way your mouth falls open and you whisper his name quietly. Like it’s only for his ears to hear. Like everything you are allowing him to do are things his hands will only be able to do. His body is warm and he’s sure admiration shines in his eyes as he stares at you. He knows this will not make your worries go away completely, but it will keep your mind off of it for now. And that’s all Simon can hope for: to bring a little peace and comfort into your life for all the times you gave it to him.

His hands gently caress you, his fingers growing sticky with the arousal that flows from you. Each movement causes beautiful noises to fall from your lips that soak Simon in love. He pulls his fingers away, sucking them in his mouth to taste the arousal that drips from them. He lets out a satisfied hum as he tastes it bloom on his tongue. He comes up to you again to place a delicate kiss that has you groaning as you taste yourself on his lips. When he pulls away, he whispers soft praises about how lovely you sound, declaring he can listen to your voice forever. When he asks you if he can taste more of you, you giggle and kiss his cheek with a nod.

He’s quick to scoot down the bed so his face hovers over your sex. His hands wrap around your thighs so his hands lay flat on your stomach. “Keep your eyes on me, okay, love?”

You don’t get time to respond as his hot mouth latches onto you. A soft whine leaves your mouth as you watch him, his eyes looking up at you from between your legs. He licks and sucks on you, feasting as if this might actually be the last time he ever gets to do this. Your hands grab onto his hands that still lay on your stomach, trying to stop yourself from throwing your head back or closing your eyes. A soft curse leaves your mouth as you let out a whimper. You feel that delicious warmth pool at the bottom of your stomach and you try to warn Simon. He only lets out a hum and continues what he’s doing, not slowing down or speeding up.

When you explode, he drinks it all up. He leaves your sex with happy sighs, pressing his sticky mouth to your thighs and mumbling more praises against the skin. So sweet for me. Always looking so good. You take it so well. Perfect, perfect, perfect. You give him a breathless smile, finally leaning your head back as you try to get your breath back. It’s no longer than two seconds before Simon’s face is back in your view. You can’t help the small tilt of your head as you giggle at his furrowed brows. “Why did you look away?”

Your smile widens and you shake your head. He’s so cute. You bite your lip and give him a quick kiss, mumbling a sorry. From his new position, Simon’s tip rubs softly against you, causing your body to shiver in anticipation. Once he sees your reaction, he lifts his hips slightly so his head doesn’t touch you anymore, making you whine. “It’s okay, Simon. You can slide in whenever you’re ready.”

Simon’s body relaxes again and he lets his hips go back to their previous position. “Please, don’t look away this time.”

You nod your head, whispering a small ‘I promise’ before his hand reaches down to see if you’re actually ready for him to slide in. He takes a deep breath before he looks down briefly, watching his hand wrap around his base and nudging it towards your entrance. He looks back up at you as he aligns himself before he slides in. You both let out a moan as he slowly slides himself in. His gaze is steady on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. When he bottoms out, he lets out a breath that was suspended in his lungs. He lets his hand rest next to your head, fingers slipping through your hair, “Are you okay, does it hurt?”

“No. It feels perfect.” Your words breath warm air against his skin and he nods. He holds eye contact, resting his forehead against yours as he starts thrusting slowly. He pulled out more and more as he continued. His thrusts are getting deeper and deeper, but never faster. Each buck of his hips causes you to moan and your hands hold onto his shoulders as he makes steady love to you. He isn’t doing anything different from every other time he has shown his love for you, but it still feels different. It feels like a silent apology, a promise. It feels like this will never stop, that this won’t be the last time.

Tears begin to build up in your eyes and you bite your lip to contain a sob. Simon instantly stops, he knows you’re not hurt, but he asks anyway. You shake your head wordlessly and pull him into a deep kiss. Simon grabs onto your face as he kisses you back, his thrusts starting up again. He presses deep kisses to your lips, trying to breathe unspoken words into your mouth. When he pulls away, his hands gather the sheets in his fists as he moans out. His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, his mouth dropped open as he muttered the words that caused flutters to expand in your stomach.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I’ll always try to find my way back home to you. You are my home.

A watery laugh escapes you that quickly turns into moans as you feel yourself near your peak. Simon lets out a grunt, verbalizing that he’s about to finish, too. With a few more deep strokes, you both groan as you finish together. Both of you pant as you look at each other before Simon wraps his arms around you and buries his head in the crook of your neck. Against the skin he asks you to stop crying and you whisper back an ‘okay’. You both sit and lay there, holding onto each other as you kiss his shoulder and your fingers glide over his back.

Once he has caught his breath, Simon pulls away silently, pressing a kiss to your lips while pulling out. You feel empty once he’s gone, watching him leave into the bathroom before coming back with a towel. He kneels on the bed, his hands gentle as he wipes the mess between your thighs. He takes care to not overstimulate you, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach before getting up again and disappearing out of the room after throwing the towel in the laundry. He comes back again, a water bottle in his hand as he holds it up to your mouth. He whispers to be careful as you drink from it, not wanting you to drink too much at a time. When he asks you if you need anything else you ask him to hold you. He pulls out the blanket and carries you as he slips in under it, covering the both of you. He presses soft kisses to your head as he plays with your hair, whispering more sweet nothings into the air until you fall asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, you turn around in search of Simon. You find his side empty, already made. But on his pillow, metal shines from the sunlight coming in. You smile widely as you take it in your hands, the slightly heated metal of Ghost’s dog tag resting in your palm. Your fingers trace the raised letters before you slip the chain around your neck. You get out of bed and dress yourself in Simon’s shirt from off the floor before walking out of your room. Down the hall, you can hear the sound of a kettle whistling and slight shuffling.

You stop in the hall, closing your eyes and taking it all in as you hold on to the tag.

He’s home.

Simon content pre-write 1.

#simon riley #ghost cod #ghost simon riley #ghost smut #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod smut #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut

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hellfire--cult · 1 year

Text

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)

WC: 9.7k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, shyness towards men, nervousness, talking about traumas, self-esteem issues, fluff of some sort, self doubt.

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: You see someone in a coffee shop, and you make the first move towards a new life.

A/N: I didn't think so many of you would enjoy this story! I hope everything lives up to your expectations, we're gonna go slow with this one, but don't think that Billy and Steve won't participate in this project of yours ;)

As always, all reblogs help, tagging it as well, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

PART 2

Your eyes slowly opened, feeling completely light headed as you tried to focus all around you.

You groaned in pain as you felt a sharp sting in the back of your head and you felt the light above you blinding you, sharply.

Where the fuck were you?

“Is she awake?” You heard a female voice talking. You tried focusing again and saw Kali’s face over yours and she smiled at you when she saw you open your eyes at her.

“She’s awake!” Kali says and you see more faces trying to come in focus over you, making you whine by how dizzy that made you. You heard Kali protesting to the other people to give you some space as she fanned your face with her hand.

“W-Where am I?” You asked and slowly but surely, your senses started sharpening again. Below you, there was definitely a bed. Then, all the voices around you were female. And then, you smelt cinnamon, the same one as your scented candle in your room.

“Your apartment. Are you okay? Do you feel sick?” You heard Nancy ask worriedly as she held a bottle of water in her hand. Honestly, you didn’t feel sick, just plain dizzy, as if you had ran out of oxygen for a few minutes. You held onto Kali’s arm and slowly sat up, centering yourself in the room as it began to get in focus for your eyes.

“Jesus, what happened?” You asked as you grabbed onto Nancy’s bottle and Robin looked at Nancy worriedly and then back at you.

“You fainted.”

“That much I know Robs.”

“In front of the stripper.” You spat the sip of water you just took, dizziness completely gone now, embarrassment and shame taking over your body as an anxious knot filled in the center of your gut. Barb stepped away from in front of you just in time before she got drenched and you started coughing wildly as Vickie patted your back.

“Oh god, now I am gonna be sick.” You say as nausea fills your stomach thanks to how humiliated you felt. You just remembered his brown eyes, looking at you, getting closer and closer to you. You winced as you tried to imagine his face when you simply blacked out in front of him. How pathetic it must have been for him.

“Yeah, you’ve been out for thirty minutes.” You groaned loudly at Barb’s words and you looked at Nancy. You were so embarrassed for ruining her night, and even making all of them go through all of this.

“Nance, I am so sorry. Words can’t describe how stupid I feel for this… I should have waited in the car, or in the bathroom, or away from the stage…” You hid your face in your hands as tears started to fill in your eyes. You felt so weak, so small because of this issue of yours. You made your friends end their fun night because of you.

“No, no! I shouldn’t have even considered a strip club knowing one of my bridesmaids doesn’t do good in a place like that!” Nancy replies, trying to make you realize she didn’t mind, but you were too far gone to notice that. How many more nights will you screw up in this way?

You remembered your prom night. Because of your shyness, you were always the target for bullying, and boys didn’t help at all with your case. They pulled your hair, got close to your face to tease you, grabbed your shoulders, caged you against the wall just to see you squeal in fear.

So that night, you decided to try and be brave, only to be cornered inside the boy’s bathroom by three guys from the soccer team. They were telling you they could cure you if you’d only suck their dicks. That was all you needed. Thankfully, Kali smashed into the bathroom with a fire extinguisher and sprayed the men on the spot. She had seen you being pulled aside, and in your shock, you didn’t pull away, nor ran.

That was a dangerous situation, but this one… This one was plainly humiliating. Embarrassing. Pathetic.

The poor guy was just doing his job, and he had to see you crumble in front of him, just by his mere sight and touch. He was supposed to make you feel desired, and you cannot even imagine how he felt when you just fainted on him. Eddie. Poor Eddie.

“Hey, if he didn’t catch you in time, you would have hit your neck on the back of your chair.” You looked up to see Robin speaking to you.

“He helped me?”

“He even carried you to my car. Told me to drive safe and all.” Robin didn’t tell you, just to spare you from more embarrassment, but she explained your condition to Eddie and Joyce who were feeling responsible for what happened to you. The guy looked confused really, but didn’t press more than that and just waved all of you off.

You were looking at Robin and then you looked at your arms. He had wrapped his arms around you, and lifted you in bridal style to carry you away. You sighed as you cursed at yourself for only being able to tolerate something like that when you were completely out and not conscious at all.

You wanted to feel hands like that awake. You wanted to be able to enjoy a handsome man pampering you. You wanted to kiss a hot guy. You wanted and needed to be fucked with someone you felt attracted to, completely, not just barely.

“Oh, sweetheart don’t cry… It really isn’t a big deal…” Kali wiped your tear away, one you didn’t even feel dropping, but she didn’t understand. It is a big deal. No one understands you, no one knows what this feels like. No one knows how you feel about this. No one gets it.

You just wished you could be normal.

It’s been a week since that night, and you tried. You were seriously trying.

But you were now in your fourth coffee shop, parking your car, because the last three you’ve been at, the baristas, were young men. As soon as you entered the doors and saw the counter and the man behind it, you immediately left.

After that night, it seemed as if your shyness and your nervousness only worsened just by how humiliating those events were. You couldn’t even turn on your camera at the team meetings of your workplace, which thankfully, it was 100% from home. You worked at a big company just as an administrator, and it paid well so you didn’t complain.

Now, on a friday, you look forward to the afternoon coffee, and you were happy to see that in your fourth coffee place, you found a woman at the front counter. You walked towards her as you looked into your wallet, looking for cash.

“Hi! What can I get you?” You heard her cheery voice and you looked up with a smile.

“Hello, um… Just a medium coffee with a bit of creamer please.” She nodded at you and you handed her the money so she could go and start preparing you coffee. She asked for your name and told you she would call you once it was done. You nodded at that and stepped aside, grabbing your phone to scroll through your instagram.

You smiled when seeing the stories of Robin. She was posting about how boring her classes were at nursing school. Then you jumped over to Nancy’s which was a picture of her and Jonathan. Your smile faltered a little at that.

Jonathan was a handsome guy, and when you met him you didn’t feel that immense shyness you always felt. You never knew why, because deep inside you, you knew he was attractive. Yet, you could shake hands with him, and engage in conversation as if it were a natural thing for you to do.

A deep voice came from next to you, and your eyes widened. You knew that voice. You recognized it, because last time it vibrated so close to your ear, it had settled in the deep of your stomach. You slowly side eyed, turning your head just a bit and you held in the gasp as you felt your body grow a cold sweat.

“The usual, Princess.”

Oh fuck. Shit. Son of a bitch.

You could see his hair tied up in a bun, some specks of unshaved beard covered his jaw, and the smell. You could smell the wooden cologne. Kind of leathery like. You turned your head as you felt your whole face turn a deep shade of red, and it almost felt like it moved all over your body.

Your fingertips felt like they were sweating, and the knot in your stomach was moving all around. She took his order and you stepped aside trying to create some space between you two. You looked away so he wouldn’t recognize your face, because if he did, you were sure you would die.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and you were looking at the barista’s every move. She was preparing your coffee now, and his presence was just overwhelming you entirely. You wanted, no, NEEDED, to bolt right out of there. You could hear him yawn as he stood next to you, and your nerves were going insane right now. You heard your name being called out, snapping you out of your almost panic attack.

“Thank you…” You said almost in a whisper as you took the coffee in your hands. You didn’t waste a single second, turning away and rushing out of the shop, taking a deep breath in of the clear oxygen. Now, you don’t really think it would be adequate to fill your body with caffeine when your nerves were this bad, but you already paid for it.

Your heart was on the verge of exploding as you took many deep breaths in. You should apologize to him, or say thank you for helping your friends carry you out of the club, but here you were, running once again. Like you always did.

But is it something you really want to do? Do you want to keep running?

You turned around and saw him through the window, taking slow sips of his coffee as he looked through his phone. His profile was already making you sweat by just how good looking he was, without even trying, with the afternoon sun hitting him in the right places.

You wanted a normal life. You wanted to be able to feel attraction. You wanted to be kissed passionately. You wanted physical touch. You wanted to be normal, simply normal.

So your feet moved. They guided you towards the doors again. They guided you into the shop. The girl looked at you with confusion over the counter and then you turned, going towards the booth where the man was seated at.

Eddie though, didn’t even acknowledge you. He was tired, too spent from last night's show. He was grabbed onto more than usual, and he had done several personal lap dances. Everything was good money of course, and he knew he sealed his fate into being the favorite one the moment he agreed on being physical with clients. No more than a kiss, or some holding, but that made him wanted.

He didn’t mind really, but when the ladies would take advantage of that and touch him, when they knew they shouldn’t, drove him up a wall. He wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t bang one or two clients per week, sometimes for money, sometimes for his pleasure. This was all his doing. Joyce was against them doing that, but his colleagues, and himself, found out that their dicks can get them two thousand a night.

He didn’t even notice until a shadow casted over him, that made him look up, that you had sat right in front of him, making him frown in confusion because… You weren’t looking at him. You were looking downwards and he could almost see the steam coming out of one of your ears.

“Um–”

“I’M SORRY.” He jumped at the high pitched loud tone, almost a squeak, making him shake his coffee a little bit on his hand.

“Jesus christ!” It was too late for loud noises, and much more for apologies he didn’t have a clue on why they were being said to him. And from a girl who wasn’t even looking at him. You were trembling, looking at your lap, because that apology came out way too embarrassing for your own good, and now you wanted nothing more but to crawl and disappear into thin air.

You stayed silent, trying to form words in your throat, but you could only feel the lump forming, and you cursed at yourself internally because you thought you were making progress by sitting in front of him, but now that you made a fool out of yourself, once again, you wanted to run away. But his voice stopped you.

“Holy shit, it’s you. The girl who fainted.”

Your blood went cold. Of course you would be remembered as that. Shit, everyone that night will remember you as the pathetic girl who fainted in the arms of a stripper. Your knuckles went white on your lap as you gripped them tightly, trying to fight the urge of running away. Your voice was still not found but there was no need because he kept talking.

“Are you alright? After that night?” He was asking for your wellbeing. This guy who didn’t even know you was asking if you were doing okay. You had to answer, you had to say something. Anything, just move your lips, make the air come out.

“Yes…” You almost mumbled it, but it was something. Eddie was squinting at you, his phone long forgotten on the table as he inspected you. He gave a small smirk, even if you weren’t looking at him, he just couldn’t help himself.

“And I thought your friend made up a horrible excuse for you that night, saying you were shy against men. I can see that she wasn’t lying.” Your body jerked up at that, your eyes widening and your head lifting up slightly, focused on his cup and he was finally able to see your face. You were beet red, making him smirk even more.

“Y-You were doing a great job! It’s m-my fault for trying to be strong and staying there!” Did you just say he was doing a great job? That formally? To a stripper? You winced at your words, ready to stand up and walk away but the sound of his laughter stopped you, and you wanted to look up, but you knew that it was going to make you freeze in place.

“Thank you darling. I guess I appreciate the feedback.” He noticed how you jumped slightly at the nickname he gave you and he cleared his throat. “I guess I do, in fact, owe you an apology myself…”

At that, your eyebrow raised up, not looking at him, but staring at his phone this time, just trying to not meet his gaze at all. Why would he need to apologize to you?

“You didn’t do anything w-wrong!” You stuttered at the last words, but you were surprised to have found your voice quicker this time.

“Well, Billy told me that there was a girl that needed her friend’s help to put a bill in his jeans. He told me what you looked like and what table you were at… You were my target that night.” You froze at those words, and the knots in your belly started tangling even more, not understanding why he would target you like that. “Shit, I didn’t know you actually had a problem with men, I mean… You were at a strip club, Sweets.”

You couldn’t help the small huff that escaped your lips with the hint of a smile on your lips. It did sound quite stupid if he said it like that. He stared at your reactions, taking a sip out of his coffee and you could see the movement from the corner of your eye, reminding you that you have some coffee in your hand as well. You took a sip too, feeling the warmth in your throat, soothing out the dryness this interaction provoked in you.

“It was… My best friend’s bachelorette party…” You explained to him and he was still not understanding where you were getting at, so he stayed silent for you to elaborate which made your nerves peak up again. “I-I didn’t want t-to bail on her.” You stuttered again as you talked about your feelings to a stranger who grinded on you a few nights back.

“Ah. I see. Next time you go to a place like that, wear a sign or something around your neck. You know, like the dogs that wear a harness that say ‘Nervous’.” Those words coming out of his mouth finally made you open your mouth as a giggle came out. You covered your mouth to stop your laughing but he caught you way off guard.

Eddie was still staring at you, a bit of pride in himself as he saw you laughing because of him, and he was glad you got to loosen up a little bit in his presence. He was curious, way too curious for his own good. Ever since he got this job with his friends, roommates even, all the women he met were straightforward, knowing what they wanted, hands roaming without fear all over his body. Yet you are here, embarrassed for laughing in front of him.

And your eyes still never met his.

“Why did you approach me darling?”

Your giggles stopped immediately, and your eyes slightly widened as you put your hands around your coffee again. Your heart was simply exploding now, and the tips of your fingers were tapping on the cup, trying to steady a normal breathing pace in your lungs, in sync. You were being engulfed by flames, and it worsened each time you remembered that his gaze was on you.

But you didn’t want to feel like this, which irritated you even more.

“I-I want help.” At that, Eddie raised his eyebrow in question, but he rested against the booth, waiting for you to continue. You stayed silent for a minute, noticing that he was being patient with you, acknowledging the fact that this wasn’t easy for you to do, and the knot in your stomach detangled just a bit, loosening up enough for you to keep talking. “I want to be normal.”

Eddie’s eyebrows twitched at that. You didn’t think you were normal just because you had this situation going on with yourself. He felt a little sad for you, and he couldn’t even imagine for how long you really struggled with this.

“I want– I want to be able to have a normal life…” You pressed on and he was slowly understanding where you were getting at, and he looked at your cup, seeing your name written on it.

“Right… And you want my help with what exactly?”

“I want to fight this… this shyness… I don’t want to be nervous anymore. I am tired of making a scene or embarrassing myself because of it. I don’t want my friends to accommodate to my needs everytime we go out…” You didn’t even notice that you did not stutter once at those statements. Statements you were fully aware of yourself and you were fed up with. Eddie, obviously, noticed, raising his eyebrows up, losing themselves under the small fringe of his curls.

He was looking at you, wondering how this day turned completely on its axis and now you were sitting in front of him, shaking like a deer in front of some headlights, but still voicing your worries out. He was skeptical really, not knowing if this was all a farce to get in his pants for free.

He wasn’t going to lie, he would fuck you for free. You were pretty, but you didn’t make an effort to show that off. Your clothes were bland, your make up was just some blush on your cheeks, and your hair was tied up in a ponytail.

But if your intentions were to sleep with him, you wouldn’t have said what you said next.

“I w-will pay you! I just want to– be able to talk eye to eye…” His heart clenched slightly at that. You didn’t want him to teach you sexual stuff, or something of the sort… You just wanted to be able to talk to him properly, or any man for that matter. He gave a small nod, as if in thought, even if you weren’t even looking at him.

His life has been very monotonous lately. For the past year to be exact. It was work, women, eat, sleep, shower, and do it all over again, every single day. He didn’t know if his roommates felt the same, but he knew that Steve started pottery classes, and then Billy had gotten the hobby of playing video games in his free time.

Yet Eddie didn’t have the motivation to do anything. Until now.

This was new, intriguing, and something that might ignite some fire in his everyday mundane life. So he reached his hand out towards you, and you looked at his ringed fingers with wide eyes, wondering what was going on.

“First things first. Presentation. I’m Eddie.” He said to you and his hand was waiting patiently. You gulped as you stared down at it, but then realization hit you. He was going to help you with this, and a flame of happiness ignited in you, slowly reaching out and putting your palm against his. You noticed the different size and the warmth of his skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You gave him your name in a stutter and he grinned when he closed his hand on yours and saw you stiffen slightly, so he softened his grip, to then move your hands up and down gently in greeting. He pulled away, and you put your hand onto your lap as quickly as you could. Your whole body was ablaze, still looking at his phone to not clash eyes with him.

“I-I can pay you–”

“Nothing.” Your eyes widened at that, raising an eyebrow up in question and you almost raised your head to look at him. “You look really shaken by this, and taking money from you doesn’t really sit right with me… And who knows, maybe this will blossom into an odd friendship.”

Those words slipped out of his mouth before he could help it, and a slight pink tint formed on his cheeks. He really did crave for another friendship, already getting tired of just being with Billy and Steve. They are great, and they are almost like brothers, but maybe that was the thing. It was just those two, and no one else.

You on the other hand turned a deep red at that, feeling your heart banging in your chest, not being able to take it anymore and you grab his phone, startling him completely and his eyes went wide at the action, but you didn’t move from the seat. You opened the dial without unlocking the phone, sliding up from the right corner of the screen and you pressed your cell phone number in there.

You slid it back to him and stood up, not being able to handle the pressure of his stare any longer and he held onto his phone to look down at the number on it. His eyebrows centered in the middle with a frown and he raised his head up only to see you gone, turning his head around until he saw you rushing out of the shop through the window and into your car.

He looked down at his screen, biting the inside of his cheek. He looked at his cup and saw the number of the barista under his name. She had tried many times to put her number down in his cup, but he never saved it on his phone. He looked down on your number, a scoff coming out of his lips.

“Hmm...”

You had been screaming into your pillow for the past half hour.

You cannot believe what you did two hours ago. You gave your number to a stripper. To a goddamn stripper. And you even asked for help with this issue of yours, but what if it came out wrongly? What if he thought you were asking him to help you sexually? It didn’t really feel like that but what if you didn’t read the air right?

It was an impulse. A goddamn impulse, but you were fine, it was all going to be okay, because you left your phone, and maybe he doesn’t even indulge in this stupidity of yours and move on, or maybe he deletes it by mistake and everything will be back as it was before.

You stopped screaming at that.

But you didn’t want to go back to before. That’s why you took that chance, and you have to look at the positive side of all of this. You sat in front of him, you talked to him, you shook his hand! You shook a handsome man’s hand! That’s improvement, a lot of it. Yes, if you put your mind to it, maybe you can change this stupid part of yourself.

You remembered his voice. Deep but with a hint of mischief behind it, and then those words that sounded hopeful yet sad. How he managed to say that the two of you could become friends in the meantime. You wondered what his daily life was like now, outside of his job. Who did he live with? How old is he? What is his favorite food?

You grabbed your phone as you turned to look up at your ceiling. You unlocked your phone to start scrolling through TikTok. You smiled at all the dog videos that showed up on your For You page and saved all those cooking and baking tips you found. You were startled from your trance of scrolling when your phone started ringing. The beautiful sound ‘The Shire’ from The Lord of the Rings filled your ears which helped a lot to the anxious feeling of talking on the phone. Who did that nowadays?

You looked at the number and it was not saved on your phone. Should you answer? Maybe it’s a telemarketer. Did you forget to pay a bill? Internet? No, you paid all of those. Your eyes widened in realization.

What if it’s him?

You were about to start trembling and in your fuss you pressed the Answer button and you almost cried out as you started hearing the other side of the phone.

‘We are calling to ensure you have the best communication serv–’

And you hang up, fucking automatic calls. You let out a sigh of relief until you felt that it wasn’t that much of relief at the end of it. Something felt uneasy within you, like something was not right. A certain disappointment maybe? Did you want him to be the one calling you? But that would be too much for you to handle, definitely.

You sighed, sitting up on the bed, scratching your head until a soft ‘Ting’ on your phone caught your attention. You looked down on the notifications and it was a message from an unknown number. Your eyes widened when you looked into the text preview.

‘I believe that in text form, you won’t be too shy to talk to me.’

Your heart got caught in your throat as you begin to cough desperately. You weren’t expecting something from him so soon, and it startled you completely. You held onto your chest as you read the text again, and again and again… You didn’t feel the blood flowing at the tip of your fingers, his image coming up in your head. His side profile of today, but then his face up close to you, in the middle of purple and pink lights in the club.

You clenched your eyes tightly, trying to move the images away. You took a deep breath in and unlocked your phone, heading over to the text. First, you saved his contact, because you might forget right? Then you put in a personal notification message because you just felt like it, but maybe if you do that, you can also put in a special ringtone as well? You didn’t do that for everyone but you were feeling like–

You were stalling. You were definitely stalling.

You gulped as you went back to the screen, now with the title ‘E’ because you didn’t want to receive a message from him when you were with your friends. They knew his name, so might as well tell them it’s Eleanor from work.

You started typing ‘Hi’ but he didn’t start with hello, so you erased that. Maybe a ‘how are you’ or ‘how has your day been going’ but that really doesn’t sound right either, he didn’t ask you that at all. You deleted it again and were about to type in again until you saw the three dots that signaled you that he was typing.

‘Even on text? Damn, I wonder how many texts you just wrote and deleted.’

He caught you, red handed, and you took a deep breath in, pushing your embarrassment away as you started typing.

‘Not many.’ You were already biting the skin on the side of your left thumb thanks to your pumping heart, which only increased its beats every time you saw the three dots from his side.

‘Really? I bet you wrote ‘Hey handsome’ and deleted it, right?’

You giggled at that, feeling your nerves loosen up a bit at his cheekiness and you typed once more.

‘Oh, sure, whatever strokes your ego.’

‘That hurt princess.’

Your breath hitched at the endearment.

‘You’ll survive.’

‘Black is not a color.’

‘Not you too with that bullshit. 🙄’

‘But it’s not, it’s a shade, as well as white!’

‘It’s my favorite color, a color, and that’s final.’

You giggled at the banter you were creating with Eddie over some texts. It’s been a week since you saw him and it’s been a week since you both started texting each other. They’re not long conversations really, just an hour a day or less, and it always starts with Eddie asking you something about yourself.

On Monday, it was your work. He made a lot of funny comments about how he is an accountant when you knew what his job actually is. Then Tuesday was about your favorite animal, in which you said Dog and he said bats. He told you he actually has a swarm of bats tattooed on his right forearm. Then food on wednesday, and favorite drink on thursday.

Today was about your favorite colors.

Yours was red, sometimes purple, while Eddie claims that his favorite color is black. You were having fun messing with him, smiling at the phone as the nerves in your belly were kept to a minimum. You were surprised how loose you got when you received his texts, and it was almost as if you were excited when they did.

“Why are you so smiley?” You blinked and looked up, completely forgetting you were having coffee with Robin at the Starbucks near your apartment complex. Robin actually got an apartment three floors down from yours and you were happy that you have a close friend as a neighbor.

“Oh, um… El sent me a meme.” You lie, feeling your chest compress at it. You didn’t want to lie to your friends, but you were doing this behind their backs because you didn’t need the encouragement. You wanted to do this on your own, without the need of your friends overprotecting you as if you were a piece of paper that might rip apart at any comment a man does to you.

“Right…” She sipped on her coffee as another notification made you look down at the screen, and you went pale at what you saw. It was a message from Eddie, yes, but the anxiety started filling your stomach as you read what he wrote to you.

‘We should hang out this weekend. Test the waters.’

He was asking you out. Well not asking you out, more like hang out, as friends, but, oh no. You were feeling nauseous, the memory of his face, and his stomach showing coming up in your mind. You don’t think you will be able to tolerate it, and you don’t even know if you can trust this guy. You haven’t told your friends about Eddie, and if you went missing or something–

“IT’S EDDIE.” You blurted out, startling Robin, your panic winning completely over you. She spat the coffee, coughing loudly as she punched her chest a few times, trying to recover herself. You on the other hand were slightly panting from the anxiety that was eating you up, but the need to feel protected won you over.

“What!?”

“I AM TALKING WITH EDDIE.” You said again loudly, making various customers turn their heads at the commotion and Robin made you lower your voice with a big ‘shh’ and a hand movement.

“Eddie… Who the fuck is Eddi– Oh, WHAT?!” Now the customers turned their heads at Robin’s explosion. You were clutching your phone to your chest and you could feel your eyes beginning to heat up from the tears that were threatening to leave them.

“I know, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to lie, but-but–”

“Why are you talking to–” Robin looked around and bent over a little closer to whisper to you. “To the stripper?! Are you nuts?!”

“I mean– I might? I don’t know? I–” You took a deep breath in, closing your eyes as Robin sighed in front of you. “I just need help… Being normal…” Robin’s eyes turned those into sad ones as she looked up at you. She stood up, putting her hand out for you to take.

“Tell me all about it while we head back to your place.”

“Yep, you are definitely crazy.”

You were pacing back and forth while Robin watched you from the couch, looking down at all the texts you’ve sent Eddie. But even if she did call you crazy, your friend was proud of you because she never thought you would tell a man about your favorite things. She also didn’t expect this Eddie guy to actually be gentle with you, never crossing a line, never flirting with you.

She wondered if his intentions were pure and when you told him he didn’t accept the money, Robin was baffled. Now, the true reason as to why you had told her about this, is because of his last message. He didn’t pressure you into saying yes, so that was a green flag, and it also lets someone know who you were with last in case the worst case scenario happens.

“I know I am crazy Robin, I fucking know, it was an impulse–”

“But I think it’s working… I mean, maybe he can actually figure out what’s going on in that head of yours.” You gulped at that and continued pacing. Nothing traumatic with men happened to you, the absence of your father and the multiple cheating on your mother helped, but it didn’t explain the reason as to why it was almost as if you were terrified of men. Attractive men at that.

You had of course the bullying at primary school, and then all the way to high school, but you cannot really pinpoint anything too cruel.

“Robin, I– I don’t even know him. What if he makes a move on me?” You would probably pass out and he would have access to do whatever. You really don’t know the guy, even if he seems trustworthy on text messages, that’s just what they are. Text messages. He could be lying, he could be pretending to be something he is not, and you can’t read his face or his movements. Not that you would if you were in person either, because you can’t fucking look at him.

“I don’t think– Look, invite him to the bar three blocks down, just the two of you, and don’t make a fuss about it. He seems cool, and he never overstepped from what I’ve seen… Nothing with a double meaning either.” She was trying to reassure you, to help you with it. For some reason Robin had a feeling that you didn’t cross paths with the stripper again just out of pure coincidence. She was a fair believer of fate, and karma.

“I– I mean it is public, a bar.” She gave you a nod and handed you the phone. You took it into your trembling fingers, looking down at the messages.

“Yes, and you have me as your emergency contact. You just have to press the lock button 5 times and I know where to get you.” That statement actually calms you a lot. And the fact that you would be at a bar three blocks away from home was also bringing you relief. “Remember, this is not a date… He is not asking you out romantically.”

“Right, I know that, as a friend.” You replied to her, giving Robin a nod as you felt another uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t describe once more. You looked down at your phone, and licked your lips, gulping loudly as you typed in your response.

‘Does tomorrow at 6, the bar between Monroe ST. and Chadwick sound good to you?’

You almost threw the phone towards Robin, feeling yourself cringe at the risky message you just sent, but if you truly think hard about it, he was the one who sent it first. Robin caught your phone as it trembled in your hand. She heard a popping sound and looked down at the screen, a smirk breaking on her lips.

“Sounds perfect, and I will give you a whole presentation on why Black is indeed a color."

You were trying to calm your nerves as you looked at the watch, every now and then on your phone. It’s already 6:05 PM and he didn’t show. It’s only five minutes late, but maybe he bailed?

But he was the one who asked you, why would he bail? But maybe he regretted it? Oh god, did he have to work today? You invited him without even asking and maybe he has a full night and you didn’t even think of–

“Parking around here is a pain in the ass Princess.” You heard his voice as he passed by you, sitting at the seat of the booth in front of you. You felt your body tensing up, and you were now self conscious of your clothes. But it wasn’t a date, so you dressed normally, and you applied a bit of mascara. You weren’t good at doing your own makeup so you settled for the simplest of things, because if you tried to do something, it would be worse than nothing.

Your eyes immediately drifted to the napkin holder on the side as you tried to gather up courage to talk to him. He sighed and put his phone on the table, right in front of him, which made your gaze drive to that. He did it so that he could see your face instead of your profile, taking note that last time you were together, your eyes didn’t leave his phone.

From your point of view you could see his shirt, which was a black simple t-shirt with an Iron Maiden illustration on it. You wanted to know what he looked like right now, and given from what you could smell of his perfume, he must look nice.

“Sweets, I need you to cooperate with me here. We talked all week on the phone, I assure you it’s no different than using your voice.” You blinked once and maybe that was the trick. You just have to imagine this is just texting, as if you were reading your messages out loud.

“I-I know that…” The curiosity was killing you at this point, but you wanted to make sure of something first. “Do you work tonight? I didn’t even ask you before…” He was surprised at your question, and he smirked slightly, nodding. Once he realized you still weren’t looking at him, he sighed as he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah, but not till 10 PM. Jason and Billy are on the early shift today.” He explained to you and that is actually a lot of time to talk to him. You didn’t think you would stand being with him, looking at his phone for more than an hour. You felt another presence approaching and you looked up to your side, seeing the waitress coming up.

“Ready to order?” She gave you a small smile and you nodded.

“A beer, please.” She put it down and turned to Eddie, her smile widening as you watched her interact with him. He must really look nice if this woman was smiling like that. Why can't you be like her? Why do you have to be so nervous about it all? You wanted to smile at a cute boy, not barf on him or pass out on the spot.

“Same as her.” Was his short reply. Your gaze went back down towards his phone as the waitress retreated to get your drinks. You wondered how he looked at her. Did he smile? Did he wink? Did he keep a serious face on? “Didn’t take you to be a beer kind of girl.”

“Oh, well, it’s really my drink of choice, but a sweet drink I like too sometimes.” You replied, keeping your gaze on his phone, imagining that everytime he talked to you, a small ‘Ting’ of a notification sounded in your ears.

“I like beer too, but I am more into the bitter kind of stuff.” He replied to you and you now burnt all over because you didn’t know how to keep the conversation flowing. Gladly, the waitress returned quickly with the two bottles of beer opened and ready to drink. You grabbed yours and saw Eddie’s hand wrapping around his own bottle, leaning it towards you. You gulped and clinked your bottle to his.

“To cure your shyness sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips at that small sweet touch. Giving a cheer for you, even in the short lapse of knowing each other, made your heart calm down just a tiny bit as you took your first sip of the bottle. Eddie caught on the smile you gave and was about to talk when your phone rang.

You looked at the caller and saw it was Robin. Your eyes widened, realizing you didn’t tell her you were already with Eddie. It was kind of a safe protocol, tell her you arrived, tell her he arrived, and keep her updated if you remembered to do so. You had sent her your live location as well, keeping you safe at all times. You declined the call and immediately sent her a message to tell her you were with Eddie already and that everything seemed ok.

Eddie though, was wide eyed, staring at you.

“Was that the flute of The Shire?”

You blinked at your phone and you almost looked up thanks to your surprise. He liked The Lord of The Rings? You weren’t a super fan of it, but the soundtrack had captivated you since you were a kid.

“I, yes–”

“Holy shit… Look, I only got my little brother to talk this with, and– I just never expected you to like something like that.” He replied, a wide grin on his face. You gulped, a blush on your cheeks. So he has a brother, another small detail of his life.

“I could say the same about you…” He chuckled at that, nodding at the thought.

“Never saw a Stripper being a total nerd?” He replied and you snorted at that, followed by a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. He was thinking, wondering of a way to get you to look at him. “Is it your favorite movie Saga?”

“Oh, um… No, not really. Harry Potter is my favorite.” He was surprised at that answer, taking a sip of his beer, tapping his finger on the table. He didn’t know much about it, but he never really took the time to watch the movies chronologically. He had an idea of the main story, of course, but never knew the details.

“I like the fifth movie, the one with the hippogriff.” He said and your eyebrows pulled to the center in a frown at that.

“That’s the third movie…” You replied at that and he scratched his head, thinking hard as he tried to remember the small details.

“Really? Then wait, the fifth one is not the one with the snake right?” He tried again and you felt something in your belly, something like annoyance but not quite.

“You never watched them correctly?” He shrugged at that.

“Never found the time, or cared enough to do so… Plus, the scenery is nothing like The Lord of the Rings.” And Eddie’s eyes immediately widened, his voice gone, and his hand clenching against the bottle in his hand.

“Okay, first of all, the scenery is fucking amazing, the shots are beautiful and they got them in real places and added CGI on them. Then, the soundtrack I admit, is nothing like The Lord of the Rings, but you can’t deny that all of the music in the movies are nostalgic and majestic. Also, the character designs are incredible, outfit wise and then we have all the spells! Everything is magical from the first movie to the last!” You replied to him with exasperation. You knew about Harry Potter, and you weren’t going to let him talk about your favorite thing like that.

“Ah, yes, I am not shaming it sweets, I just prefer the latter. Plus, I never understood that part of the movie where the bad guy returns from a diary? I mean…” He continued, trying to not show his surprise to you so you wouldn’t stop. You took another sip and continued talking.

“That would be the second movie, and it was a figment of a memory implanted in the diary. The diary was part of Voldemort’s soul, a horrocrux which helped him be sort of immortal.” You pressed on, throwing your knowledge at him.

“Immortal?”

“He has seven horrocruxes in total, so he split his soul in seven parts. You had to destroy all seven in order to finally be able to kill him properly. You have to watch all of the movies in order to understand all of this! Or read all of the books!” You finished your blabbering with almost a pant.

“Sweets.”

“What?” You scoffed out and he chuckled, smiling at you.

“You’ve been talking to me, looking at me in the face, since you started ranting about Harry Potter.”

You froze, realizing that your eyes were looking into his brown ones. His hair was down, over his shoulders, the stubble you saw that day on his chin was gone, freshly shaved, and over his shirt he had a black leather jacket on. His dimples were showing as he smiled at you, and the knot in the stomach was there, it definitely was, urging you to run away.

But it didn’t urge you to look away.

He squinted slightly as he inspected you. You weren’t looking away, which is a good sign, but you stopped talking all together. He was thinking, licking the inside of his bottom lip as he thought.

“What’s your favorite movie? Not Saga, movie.” He asked and you slightly snapped out of your trance, absorbing the way his mouth moved as he talked to you.

“T-Titanic.” He rolled his eyes at that and you slumped slightly as an angry frown came to your eyebrows again.

“Really? That cliché sweetheart?” Your mouth almost hung open at his words, feeling offended by him saying that about your favorite film.

“It’s a fucking masterpiece!” You replied to him and he sighed, leaning on the table as he took a sip of his beer again, and you followed afterwards to wet your dry throat.

“Indulge me, how is that romantic movie a masterpiece?”

“Well, I am noticing you are not the romantic type of guy, but looking past that, the scenes? The music and ambience are outstanding, and for it being a movie of 1997, it was so amazingly done! Not to mention that James Cameron was the first ever person to get clear images of the actual wreckage.” You replied, taking another sip and he was still looking at you.

He lied to you. He also thought Titanic was a masterpiece. But he came to realize something, but he needed to test something else first, just to make sure that his suspicions were correct.

“So you just said I am not the romantic type of guy… Does that mean you are? I mean, I want to understand right now, but with this thing you got going on… Did you ever… do anything?” He asked you, actually curious about it and you felt the knot in the stomach form once more, the lump in your throat suddenly blocking your voice and you immediately looked down towards his phone again, a deep crimson covering your cheeks.

“It’s… Not that I am a virgin– I don’t…” And Eddie’s head almost made a ‘ding’ sound. It had clicked the moment you stared into his eyes without noticing and you talked about something you liked.

“I know what’s going on.” He softly muttered, very low but you could hear it, your eyebrows frowning at that. “Also, I didn’t bring my powerpoint presentation, sorry about that, but Black is a color, I mean, I am wearing it all right now.” He was at this again? You looked up at him, completely wide eyed, not believing he was still adamant about black being an actual color.

“Seriously Eddie, you can google it and it will tell you it’s a shade! I took art lessons in school, and the professor was always very strict on not calling white and black colors!” You were looking at him again. He nodded in thought and tapped the table, slumping back against the booth. He was staring at you, deep in his own mind, and you suddenly grew nervous at his stare. “What?”

“I know what’s happening here, in your mind that is.” You blinked in surprise at that, the statement taking you completely off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever you are confident about something you know, you have no trouble talking to me. You have no trouble talking to me about things you are passionate about, or have experience in.”

You were dumbfounded. You never thought of something like that happening to you, but now some things clicked inside your head. You didn’t talk with your male coworkers, no… But when a new hire would enter the company and you had to train them? You had no problem. Then when meeting Jonathan, he was attractive, yes… But… you were excited that Nancy is happy with him.

“Holy shit…” You muttered with wide eyes and he nodded at you with a small smile appearing in his lips to then fade away.

“Yeah… But it means that your confidence level is low. Like, confidence in yourself. That’s why you can barely talk sometimes, or you don’t look up to meet my gaze, or well… looked up, past tense.” He smiled at you, and it made your cheeks flush, but still your head was spiraling at his words.

You weren’t confident in yourself?

“You mean… like my self-esteem?” You asked, and he sighed, giving you a small nod which made your stomach sink.

“I don’t know about your past, and honestly you don’t have to tell me. But maybe we can do some baby steps…”

“Baby steps?” He took a sip of his beer and nodded, leaning on the table as he put his hand out to start counting with his fingers.

“First, why don’t you wear makeup? Is it because you are allergic or…?”

“Uh, no… I’m not very good at it.”

“Have you tried tutorials?” You shook your head, a small feeling of shame coming up your throat. “Okay, so that’s step one. Watch some, practice. I am not saying you need makeup, but it helps a lot with your ego. Trust me, when I put on eyeliner I feel like I can conquer the world.” He says with a chuckle and you tilt your head with curiosity pricking at the tip of your tongue.

“You wear makeup?”

“Hell yeah, makes me look pretty.” He smiles at you and you couldn’t help but laugh at his words. You couldn’t believe this man in front of you had a job like the one he has. “Step two, your clothes too.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” You say with an offended tone and he just stares at you.

“Seriously? You wear bland colors. Put a little bit of sparkle in it, something you might feel sexy in, or pretty, but you have to feel it. You don’t dress for others, only for yourself.” You tried to remember your closet, and you hated to admit he was right. All your shirts were simple, none of them were tank tops, none of them had nice cuts on the cleavage, or were tight… Your jeans were all the same, and you never wore dresses or skirts, no matter if you really wanted to.

You just never thought you’d look good in them.

Oh fuck… He actually might have found the problem.

“Third, be confident in your voice. We’re going to slowly work on it, but I think you are headed in the right direction, just not quite.” He replied to you and he watched how your face contorted into confused frowns and then understanding ones as if you were realizing so many things in your head.

“You mean to be able to, for example… Ask things?” He pointed a finger at you with a smile to his face.

“And there’s the first one. Yes… Till now I was the one engaging in conversations, being in text form or here. I was the one asking you all the questions.” You gave him a nod in understanding, feeling the knot in the stomach not so strongly as before. He is attractive, yes, but he is not making moves, or comments, or anything to put you in a nervous state. The nervousness was still there, and you still struggled to keep eye to eye contact, but you were facing him.

“I see… So, I gotta go shopping then?” You say with a small smile on your face and he chuckles at you, nodding, taking a sip of his beer.

“Remember, dress for you. Not for the other people around you. If you feel confident in it, then it’s all that matters. By confident, I don’t necessarily mean comfortable, but that can also help.” You were staring at him as if you had found a personal god of some sort. This man, this male stripper, was giving you better advice than any therapist ever gave you, than your FRIENDS ever gave you in fact.

You were grateful for them, but they never understood that you wanted to get better. Instead, they always made sure to make you comfortable whenever you all went out together, always protected you when men approached your group, but never once helped you make the leap of getting better, of trying to be normal like them. They just accepted you the way you are.

But you didn’t want to be accepted like this. Not anymore.

“What is your favorite movie?” You asked him, and his eyes slightly widened at that, surprised by the change of conversation, but it seems you caught on in what you had to do. He smiled and laid back on the booth.

“Okay, what do you think my favorite movie is? Just by looking at me.” He says, flipping his hair over his shoulder and you giggled, as you looked at him. The nerves in your belly started forming again as you scanned his features, but you were trying to fight against it, feeling your heart hammering in your chest.

You didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and you didn’t want to judge him. But he was asking you himself, right? And if you say something wrong it can be directed as a joke, but maybe he doesn’t like it? Maybe he thinks you are throwing yourself on him? WHat if you say something insinuating to him and you didn’t realize it? What would he say–

“You’re thinking too much about it. Stop.” He was looking at you, and you didn’t even notice you went into a sort of trance, trying to think of the words to say. You shook your head, body filling you up in flames, so before you went into a panic, he continued talking. “Just say the first thing that comes to your head. I am not a person that easily gets offended, sweetheart.”

Those words actually made your nerves settle somewhat, and you took a deep breath in to try to make your heart do the same. You inspected him again and he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a smirk.

“You look like a… The Notebook fan.” You joked, his eyes going wide, a laugh escaping his lips and you couldn’t help but giggle with him, his laugh being contagious, and the tips of your fingers began to feel warmth once again.

“Oh my god, how did you catch me? Am I that obvious?”

End of part 2

A/N: I promise that... things are just gonna heat up from here on out. This was just to prepare you guys for it. (Billy and Steve will make an appearance soon.) I might change the rating on here to Mature, so if you don't have it enabled, please do.

Taglist is open, comment if you want in or send me an ask ;)

Taglist: @katethetank @mynameismothra @emxxblog @steph-speaks @fantasticmacaroni @aysheashea @sweet-villain @sillypurplemurple @eddiemunsonthoughts @emilyslutface @bookshelf-dust @bibieddiesgf @justheretostan

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hollowdeath · 9 months

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Hello, I was wondering if it'd be possible for you to do an enemies to lovers with Harry Potter (with smut)? I feel like since Harry's life has been focused on Voldemort, he hasn't had a lot of time to think about things like crushes, and he's only had a couple of girlfriends here and there, but he's never felt such strong feelings for someone like y/n, so he deals with them by having a disliking towards her. (maybe he has a breeding kink? 🙏🙏) Maybe she's dracos sister? I dunno, all I know is that your fanfics are beautifully written, and you are my FAV tumblr author. Thank you ❤️

hi! thank you so much for requesting! you are so so sweet, i appreciate it so much <3 i had a lotttt of fun writing this one, i hope you like it!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!slytherin!reader (18+)

summary: harry becomes infatuated with you, draco malfoy's little sister, whom he's extremely protective over. though harry's confusion when it came to you lead him to hating you for several years, he eventually sees who you truly are, and loves what he finds.

c/w: mostly angst/fluff, slow burn, some smut at the end (oral & penetrative sex with some minor breeding kink). and, of course, briefly edited, all lowercase, not exactly book/movie/canon accurate, you know me !

word count: 14.6k (i'm so sorry)

a/n: soo i kinda ran with the draco's sister plot line lol. i actually had 2 other requests that also asked for a slytherin reader, so i tried to make it all in one! i hope everyone enjoys!

it wasn't until year 2 that harry learned draco actually had a little sister who would now be attending hogwarts with them. "how did you not know?" hermione had asked him, dumbfounded. "you've never heard someone mention [y/n] malfoy?"

harry tried to pay attention to hermione's questions, but he couldn't stop staring at you. you only vaguely looked like draco, maybe more so from certain angles, but there was something so completely different and unique about you. you carried yourself differently than draco. no constant sneer or narrowed eyes looking for trouble; instead, a soft smile, gentle touch, and nervous giggle. harry wasn't sure what to make of you. how could someone like you be related to such an evil pest like draco malfoy?

"blimey, harry, we're over here," ron whines, snapping his fingers in harry's face. harry looks back at his friends with guilt. "sorry, it's just, she doesn't seem related to draco," he says.

hermione makes a face. "i still wouldn't trust her regardless, the malfoys are nothing but evil trouble,"

harry glances back at you again, laughing with a few other first year girls waiting for the sorting hat.

it came as no surprise to anyone when you, a malfoy heir, were quickly sorted as a slytherin, their table erupting into cheers as you excitedly ran to a cheerful draco. harry remarked this as one of the first times he's seen draco actually look happy, a genuine grin plastered across his face as he gives you a big hug.

it almost feels wrong to see draco be affectionate with someone. harry's never seen someone make draco soften so much so quickly. as he's guiding you to sit next to him at the table, harry can actually hear him congratulating you. "see, i told you, nothing to worry about."

seeing him be so brotherly with you was so off putting it was almost upsetting to harry. if draco does have feelings, then why is he so awful to harry and his friends for no reason? and not just them, but to almost every student or professor? it just made no sense to him. harry hated hypocrites.

after the ceremony, harry's heading to the gryffindor common room when draco sharply cuts in front of him, standing nose to nose in the hallway.

draco looks harry up and down with a sneer. "i saw you staring at my baby sister, potter. try anything with her and you're dead."

harry's caught off guard but sneers back at draco, disgusted at his insinuation. "wasn't planning on it, draco. hermione's right, your family is nothing but trouble."

you come up behind draco, pulling on his robes softly. "draco," you say.

draco gives you one last warning look before taking you by the shoulders, guiding you away from harry. "let's go, [y/n]," he says with disgust.

as draco pulls you away, you swiftly turn over your shoulder and wave at harry with a big grin on your face. "hi, harry!" you call out excitedly before draco turns you around and walks you down the hallway quicker.

harry waves weakly. now he's really not sure what to think. draco is clearly protective of you and doesn't want you to even talk to harry. but you seem so kind and friendly, and harry can't deny how cute your smile is…

harry brushes off the situation, meeting ron and hermione at the top of the stairs where they were waiting for him. "what was that all about?" ron asked.

harry rolls his eyes. "nothing. can we just go?"

ron and hermione look at each other, a bit confused at harry's annoyance, but don't push him any further.

it's on this walk with ron and hermione that harry decides he hates you. as far as he's concerned, you're just another draco to him. he doesn't care if you seem nice, hermione's right - he can't trust you. not even for a second. not even if you look at him with those big beautiful eyes, that soft smile, your infectious giggle…no, harry hates you. and he hates draco. nothing's going to change that.

harry actually manages to not have another interaction with you until the beginning of 4th year, though that never stopped the longing stares between you two. harry often caught you attempting to talk to him, but always figured out a way around it to avoid you completely. he wasn't scared of draco's threat; harry knew he was serious but he wasn't afraid of draco. he simply had no desire to be around you, not even for a second.

mainly because he knew you could easily win him over if you wanted to.

harry had tried to deny it for over a year before he finally admitted to himself that fine, okay, maybe he does find [y/n] extremely pretty…but that doesn't have to mean anything. he still avoided you like the plague as draco continued to torment harry and his friends like normal.

at the beginning of fourth year, however, you made it a point to find harry when he was alone and practically force him into a conversation with you. he tries to get away when he sees it's you coming up next to him in the hallway, but you grab his arm. "harry. please."

harry pauses. he hasn't really heard your voice since you were in your first year, and only barely. it was so soft and kind, and just a hint sad as you asked him to speak for a moment.

he turns to you reluctantly. he knew this wasn't going to be good. he's already a little lost just looking in your eyes, but keeps himself focused as you begin talking to him.

"you've been avoiding me for almost 3 years now, and don't try to deny it because i'm not stupid…" you say, your tone of sadness only more pronounced. harry's awkwardly diverting his gaze, watching as you both slowly become some of the only students left in the hallway. he doesn't intend on replying, instead letting silence fill the air between you.

"i know you and draco don't get along but, can't we at least be civil? i'm not like him like that," you ask, your voice slightly desperate.

harry glares at you, ripping his arm away from your lingering grasp. he was never one to get angry at someone being so kind to him without reason, but he just couldn't stand you. you confused him, you made his heart race, you made him feel crazy for disliking someone so intensely when they haven't done anything wrong, but he couldn't help it.

"draco is an evil, blood purist bully. and as far as i'm concerned, you're nothing but his little shadow. so no, we cannot be civil." harry spits at you, his voice dripping in anger.

your face drops, but he's already stomping away, his blood pumping from the adrenaline rush of simply speaking to you.

"well fuck off, then. i was just being nice."

harry turns around at your loud voice, seeing you in tears just before you turn around and run out of the hallway, a few lingering students watching and looking over at harry as well.

harry just ignores them and continues walking away. he feels guilty, of course, you really were just trying to be nice despite harry's relationship with draco, but harry can't let his guard down for even a second. he's got so many other parts of his life that require his attention and time, he can't risk getting caught up in his feelings over his enemy's sister in the middle of it all.

it was easier for both of you if harry just put that wall up right away and ignored his other feelings for you. the feelings of longing, the feeling of guilt…

after that day, you and harry hadn't spoken to each other again. there was always looking, staring from across the room in both admiration and disdain. you found harry to be incredibly rude after that encounter and never saw him quite the same, but you couldn't help but watch him through the years as he grew into himself. and he had the same issue, only finding you more and more beautiful as time went on, from an adorable girl with the cutest laugh he's ever heard to a gorgeous woman in every sense of the word.

harry had a few crushes throughout this time at hogwarts and, ironically, even dated his best friend's sister at some point, but always found himself disinterested in all of them after a while for one reason or another. harry was constantly on edge these last few years and would practically lose himself in the situations he was in. his world would be turned upside down and he was expected to fix it every time. at that point, he just couldn't bring himself to care about a crush or even a relationship after experiencing what he's gone through.

what harry did always care about, though, was you.

not in a traditional sense, at least. he didn't necessarily want bad things to happen to you, not at all actually. he had always kept an eye on you during your years together. he didn't have any reason to, you guys were anything but friends, but harry felt a responsibility to keep you safe for some reason.

by harry's last year, draco had more or less left him alone completely. no more bullying or picking fights or spewing names, draco was now a sullen shell of who he used to be with no motivation to do anything but graduate and leave hogwarts behind.

harry couldn't blame him. he had to give it to draco, he went through a lot. though harry believed it all happened due to draco's own stupidity and selfishness that left him alone and depressed in the end, he still felt for him, if only a little bit. if not for what it did to you.

you had never given in to your family's connections to the dark lord, even when things were at their most detrimental point in the war, you stood with your fellow classmates, and, ultimately, with harry. draco couldn't say the same.

harry remembers being shocked, but not entirely sure why. he knew who you really were outside of your surname: a kind, understanding, empathetic person who brought light to people's days. but still, after all this time, there was a part of harry that still believed it might have all just been an act. he knew he was being ridiculous once he saw you turn away from your own parents and brother, not for harry, but for what was right.

since then, harry's felt different about you. rather than feeling anger or confusion whenever he saw your face or the back of your head in the hall, all he felt was happiness. he was happy to see you, happy that everything was okay now, happy that you had been genuine this whole time…though, of course, that came with the guilt of being so awful to you previously.

harry had been meaning to apologize to you and finally settle things before the end of the year. the issue was getting you away from draco.

since draco began struggling after the war, you two were practically attached at the hip. you tried everything in your power to help your brother, to be there for him, to reassure him; it killed you to see him so disappointed in everything, especially himself. harry found it sweet, of course, just how much you were willing to try for draco, but he ultimately saw it as a lost cause. if draco wanted to wallow in self-pity for knowingly being on the wrong side of the war, harry couldn't care less.

however, he cared for you, of course, so he respected your space around draco as harry knew he would only make things worse.

he was still determined to speak to you alone, so he figured out what classes you and draco had, both together and separately, and found a time where you would be alone. your last class of the day ended before draco's did, so harry waited by your classroom door until the bell rang.

once he saw you exit, talking with a friend, it took him a moment to build the courage to interrupt the conversation. but he knew he had to do this now, or else he'd never do it at all.

"[y/n]," harry said, coming up behind you and your friend. you both turned to him, your face instantly going pale. "oh," your friend had said, looking at you and harry before giving you a smirk and a simple goodbye.

you waved her off and turned back to harry, a complex look on your face. harry smiled tightly. "i was, um, wondering if we could speak, just for a moment," harry stumbles through his words, gesturing to an empty hall to your right. you take a moment to look around you, but nod at him and head around the corner to the less used hallway.

harry sighs as you turn to him, arms crossed, watching intently. "uh, look," harry says awkwardly, his hands going to his head in stress. "just, since everything that's happened, i've been thinking a lot…" harry continues, not able to look at you.

"i'm sure you have," you say softly. your voice is a mix of sincerity and sarcasm. it stings. harry can tell you're disappointed, angry, sad, and above all, completely hurt.

he chooses his next words carefully. "i'm sorry. for everything. for what happened with you and your family. for putting you through so much. for treating you how i did. i let my anger for draco and your family get in the way of my judgment." harry says softly, staring at the ground. "you didn't deserve that. none of you did. and i'll live with the guilt forever."

you're still watching harry, your weight shifting to the side, arms slowly uncrossing.

"i'm not asking you to forgive me. i just wanted to say sorry." harry sighs, sneaking a look at you before quickly looking away down the hall. your expression is unreadable. confusion, shock, sadness.

you leave a few moments of silence before replying, thinking of what you want to say to harry after all these years. you clear your throat, your hands folding together in front of you. "you should be sorry," you say simply.

harry's heart drops, but he's not surprised at your response. he knows you won't be easy to win over.

"i grew up idolizing you, harry. do you know how heartbreaking it was for you to hate me because of something i can't control?" your voice is breaking, your eyes turning away from him as well. harry doesn't move or respond. he knows he deserves to hear this.

you sigh shakily, trying to regain control. "but," you say sharply, causing harry to look towards you. your eyes were still diverted, nervously wringing your hands together. "there's no guilt to be had. you didn't do anything. you didn't choose this life. everything that happened to all of us was happening to you too." you say flatly.

you glance at harry, who's surprised at your words. "you were just a kid, harry." you tell him softly. harry's eyes threaten to tear up as he turns his head away quickly. you look back down the hall in front of you. "but so was i, and i didn't deserve that from you. so, yes, while i don't forgive you yet, i do accept your apology." you say with a suppressed smile. harry also has a small smile on his cheeks from what you can see.

another few moments of silence pass before harry sighs, relieved. "well, thank you."

the bell rings, and harry's heart drops. draco. he's going to be looking for you. he turns to the other hallway before looking back at you. "i guess i better go," he says. you smile sadly at him. "yeah. guess so." you say quietly.

harry gives you a sad smile too before leaving you behind, looking around to make sure draco wasn't close by before leaving down the hall.

harry wasn't afraid of draco. he never had been, but he certainly didn't want to see how he'd react to harry talking to his sister, even just casually. harry understands to an extent, if he had a sister he'd never let her near draco–but that's because he's draco. harry's a good guy, and he'd treat you well.

harry shakes his head at his thoughts.

what is he doing? he just wanted to apologize to you. nothing more. just because you make his heart flutter and are probably the most beautiful girl he'll ever know doesn't mean he has to like you. even though harry can't deny just how much he admired you for what you sacrificed during the war. when you turned your back to lucius and narcissa, your face stained with tears, hands in a fist, harry remembers thinking this must be what an angel looks like in real life. all of the evil in the world at your fingertips to corrupt you and you were strong enough, smart enough, to say no to it all in the face of war.

but that didn't have to mean anything, right?

right. harry could appreciate what you've done and still keep his distance with you. he apologized for his behavior, and you might've proved his suspicions about you to be wrong, but you were still a malfoy. one good, precious apple out of the entire rotten orchard isn't going to change his mind.

the next day, harry's just splitting ways with hermione outside the library when he catches your eye from down the hall. "harry!" you call out, walking quickly in his direction.

harry turns to you, instinctively smiling before letting his face go blank. "[y/n]," he says, surprised, as you come up beside him. "what's wrong?"

you laugh a bit, giving harry a look. "what? nothing's wrong. i figured we could maybe eat lunch together."

harry's a bit stunned. he takes a look around you both. obviously you had been alone, but he was still a bit suspicious of draco's absence. you two had been practically glued together this last year or so, it was almost odd to see you without him.

"oh, sure, um…" harry says, still shocked as he continues scanning the faces around you. you laugh again, putting your hand on harry's arm as you guide him to the dining hall. "just us, don't worry. draco's sick in bed for the day."

harry's a bit relieved at your words, but gets the sense that you think harry's afraid of draco seeing you two together. he might not want it to happen for one reason or another, but he's not afraid. he just wants to be respectful. though he's not entirely sure why, as draco has never given him the same in return.

sitting down at an empty spot at the gryffindor table, you start making a plate for yourself with the plentiful food options in front of you. harry sits across from you, his heart racing thinking about everyone seeing [y/n] malfoy and harry potter spending time together. weren't they well-known enemies of the school? i thought they hated each other? what does draco think about this?

harry started eating his food along with you, a comfortable but strange silence falling over you two. he wasn't sure if he should break it by asking why you wanted to meet with him, and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know why.

after a few minutes, you wipe your face with a napkin and set down your utensils. "harry, i wanted to tell you something."

really? harry's heart could only beat harder. that was the last thing he wanted to hear from you right now. he was already practically sweating from the anxiety.

harry waits patiently for you, his eyes fixed on yours. he notices just how pretty they are in comparison to your skin, hair, lips, it just all makes sense together, like someone was extensively planning a beautiful painting when it came to your features.

you seem a tad nervous before looking down at your food and continuing. "i've decided i would like to try and be friends, if you'd like that." you seem flustered, almost embarrassed to ask. "i know there's been a lot of complications since year 3 when i first asked to be civil, but…y'know, like i already let spill, i've really admired you my whole life and…"

harry has never seen you so nervous. it was totally endearing, your mannerisms, your quiet voice, like a pet wanting approval.

"and, i think i would just really love to spend some time with you. and learn how to forgive you, of course." you add on the last part with a bit of coldness. it subtly reminds harry of draco. but you flash him a smirk before taking another bite of food, and it's like draco never existed.

harry smiles warmly. just a year ago if you had asked him this he would've laughed in your face and ignored you because it angered him that you think you two could ever be friends. but harry's changed a lot since then, he sees the human in you, and he's no longer suspicious of your intentions. though his guard is still up, he's not sure it'll ever really come down, he wants to reach out to you now.

with another bite of his food as well, harry casually nods his head. "yeah, i think we could be friends."

more silence passes before you finish your plate. "well, to commemorate our newfound friendship," you say as you raise your glass to him. harry chuckles. "a toast after we've already eaten?" he asks incredulously. you roll your eyes slightly, a smile still poking at your lips. "just do it, potter."

potter. the nickname can only remind him of draco. but somehow, it feels different coming from your mouth, in your voice. it's not harsh, it's not condescending, if anything it's full of love and care. it's admirable.

harry picks up his own glass and clinks it against yours, still chuckling to himself. "to newfound friendship."

it had been a few weeks of you and harry hanging out, and he was over the moon about it. you two had wonderful chemistry together, he'd come to learn, and your sense of humor was enthralling to him. you were always able to get a smile out of him, even sometimes just from a single look. you both enjoyed reading and would spend hours at the library together, you enjoyed going to harry's last few quidditch matches of the year to cheer him on, and harry loved helping you study for your exams. the more time you spent together, the more harry had let his guard down around you. you were really starting to grow on him. he found himself thinking about you all the time, and not in a negative way like he used to for so many years.

now, when he thought of or saw you, his heart ached with how much he truly cared about you. he thought about the night you two ended up sneaking out together simply just to talk under the moonlight, where you told him everything about your complicated relationship with your family. he told you all about his fight against voldemort, the months he spent looking for horcruxes, and what it was like being the chosen one at such a young age. he remembers how intently you watched and listened to him. he had never met someone so intrigued by his life and feelings. you were extremely empathetic to what he had gone through, and it was refreshing to harry. he remembers looking at you under the moon, and thinking you were truly the most beautiful thing in the world, inside and out.

when he thought of or saw you, he remembered the time you spent together just before christmas, exchanging presents in the solitary of his bedroom. simple, small gifts wrapped perfectly and neatly with sentimental value for both of you. he thought about the hug you gave him as you left his room, his gift still in hand, holding him for a few moments longer than you normally did. the way you'd said, "happy christmas, harry," with the softest, sweetest voice in the world.

when harry thought of or saw you, all he could think about was the care and admiration he had for you that only grew with time. at first.

then, he thought about draco.

harry always thought about draco when he was with you. not that he wanted to, he wished he could focus all his attention on you in the moment, but you were still his sister. harry was reminded each time you gave him a bit of attitude or curled your lips away from him that you were, in fact, still a malfoy, and your time spent with him wouldn't be looked at favorably by anyone in your family. most especially draco.

harry never brought up the prospect of your family unprompted. he knew it was a sensitive subject, but he also knew it would never end well with you. one way or another, by the end of the school year, harry was leaving and you couldn't follow. as much as he loved being around you and valued your budding friendship, he knew it was destined to fail from the beginning. he was everything your family hated and spent their lives working against. he was the chosen one. though he's sacrificed many aspects of his life because of this title, you will undoubtedly be his most painful.

and he certainly never brought up draco, as the idea itself made him sick to his stomach. it was bad enough you were related to him, but the fact that you spent pretty much every moment with draco when you weren't with harry made his skin crawl. he knew your relationship with him was not negotiable. you loved draco so deeply it was almost foreign to harry. the way you talked about him that night under the moon and the experiences he's had to go through did make harry empathize with him more than he had previously, but he was still full of anger and hatred for the little blonde boy who tried to make harry's school years a living hell.

he was thinking this over as he examined a framed picture of your family sitting on your nightstand. harry had been to your room quite a few times this year to hang out, and he was always intrigued by this specific picture. your parents, sitting in elegant thrones with you and draco on either side. you looked so out of place. not because of your stance or expression, but you just simply looked different. if harry had never known, he would've never guessed you were born into the malfoy family.

"that's a terrible photo," you laugh at harry as you continue working on an assignment. you had asked him to come help you, but really you just wanted his presence near you. harry knew this. once he figured out that most of your invitations to "study together" just meant you wanted to be near him for an hour or so every day, he was extremely grateful to provide his help. he didn't mind being around you at all, actually.

"it's…definitely something," harry laughs off, taking his attention away from the photo and topic in general.

harry sits beside you on the bed, your back on your pillows as he sits with his feet on the ground. harry's just about to bring up something when you lean towards him, holding your book in your lap. "hey, can you explain this to me?" you ask, still looking down at your assignment on the other page. "i've read this like 10 times and i still don't get it," you point out a paragraph for harry as you scoot closer to him.

harry leans in, closer than he's ever been with you, and reads the passage to himself quietly. as he's reading, he can see you shifting nervously beside him. your hands were delicately holding the book open for him, still resting on your legs, his head just below yours.

"oh, uh, i think it's talking about…" harry starts off, trying to reread the difficult wording of the section. "bloody hell," he mumbles, frustrated, reaching for the book himself to get a better look at the paragraph. you chuckle breathily, and it hits the back of harry's neck. he immediately gets chills.

he looks up towards you, and your face is nearly touching his. he would've moved away sooner but he'd be damned if he didn't take this opportunity to truly appreciate just how deeply beautiful your eyes were right now.

not a moment later, your door opens from behind harry, and he doesn't even have to look to know who it is.

you both turn slowly to see draco standing in the doorway, his eyes flashing between you and harry sitting so closely on your bed. "dray," you gasp, standing up from beside harry.

harry's frozen. the look on draco's face is one of shock and disappointment. his lips curled down tightly, a familiar darkness growing in his eyes as he focuses on harry sitting on his sister's bed.

"so. i was right. you have been avoiding me." draco says towards you as he continues to glare at harry. harry stands with you, anger slowly growing inside of him for the situation at hand. this is the last way he wanted draco to find out you two were friends.

"dray, he was just helping–""i don't wanna hear it, [y/n]." draco interrupts you. this only pisses harry off more as his jaw clenches tightly.

a moment of silence passes briefly before draco speaks again. "i told you to stay away from him, did i somehow not make that clear?" draco's eyes divert to you, his stare even colder looking at you. you're stumbling looking for your words, but harry's anger gets the best of him in the moment.

"she can make her own decisions, malfoy."

draco's eyes snap back to harry, his fists balling up at his sides. your hand instinctively goes in front of harry as you step towards draco. "it would be wise of you to shut your bloody mouth now, potter. you were the one all over my baby sister in her bed just a moment ago." draco's words are leaking with rage, taking steps closer towards harry.

"dray, stop it," you warn him, now standing between him and harry.

"[y/n], you can't be fucking serious right now. you've loathed him for years. we both have. what are you doing? have you lost your mind? i'm genuinely asking," draco is dumbfounded at his sister's actions, scanning you up and down.

"that's not even true, draco, and you know that." you tell him in a cracking voice, tears stinging your eyes. harry wants nothing more than to save you from the heartache you're experiencing in this moment. part of him wants to hurt draco for making you cry. but, inside, harry knows you would want to handle this by yourself. anything he did to hurt draco was inadvertently hurting you as well.

"harry has been nothing but a good friend to me this semester. he's even helped me pass my exams. don't do this to me right now," you tell draco slowly, tears still threatening to fall.

draco rolls his eyes at your last statement. "oh, do what? try and keep you safe? you're being utterly ridiculous right now, [y/n], and you and i both know it."

harry can sense there's something he's missing here. you and draco keep referencing something you both understand that harry doesn't seem to.

you're clearly frustrated as the first few tears start to fall down your cheeks. "i know what i'm doing, dray. please, don't you trust me?" you ask desperately, your voice shaking.

draco softens watching you fall apart in front of him. his eyes aren't as dark, his fists come undone, and he sighs as he breaks his stare at you.

"of course i do." he states simply, his voice now more solemn than angry.

"then trust me when i say i trust harry," you say. draco winces at your statement. "i know there's complicated feelings there but i love you, dray, and i want to be honest about who i'm spending my time with," you level with draco, taking a step towards him.

he glances towards harry, a look of disdain still lingering in his eyes, but looks at you with an apologetic look. "you should've been honest from the beginning," he insists.

you sigh. "i know. i'm sorry. i felt terrible lying to you. you have to understand it was killing me, dray…" your voice breaks again as you try to compose yourself. "but you know how i've felt for a long time."

harry can't decipher the tone in your last statement, but you say it so convincingly he breaks his stare from draco to look down at you, tear-stained cheeks and, still, your eyes are so beautiful to harry. he looks back at draco, who's watching him in disgust before looking back at you lovingly.

draco's analyzing your expression as his body relaxes. he sighs again, bringing you in for a hug.

harry steps to the side awkwardly as you and draco hug for a moment. you're still sniffling by the time he pulls away, wiping your cheeks with a gentle thumb. harry watches closely. it's so strange to see draco this soft in his presence. not even harry could get in the way of draco's clear dedication to you as more than a brother, but as a protector.

for a moment, harry saw a side of draco he knew existed but never fully realized was so strong.

"i know, [y/n/n]. it's okay. i'm sorry." draco tells you softly, his hands still holding your cheeks. you smile, tearfully, putting your hands on his before holding them in front of you. draco takes them back, fixing his shirt before looking at harry with a blank expression.

harry stays quiet. there's a lot he wants to say, but he waits for draco to break the silence.

"as for you, potter…" draco says, his voice less angry than before but still contained. harry looks at him expectedly. he's easily taller than draco now, and practices for quidditch way more than draco does anymore, so harry definitely has some muscle on him. if he were to ever try anything, harry wasn't afraid.

draco takes a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "while my beautiful sister is putting it lightly, my feelings towards you are more than complicated," he spits out, the anger seeping through before he breaks his stare and controls himself. "but," he says, a softness in his voice.

"she's a smart girl, and i trust that she's not making a mistake spending her time with you." draco looks at you with a hint of a smile before looking back at harry with a stoic expression. "and while i may not like it, we're adults now, and i'm no longer a threat to you," draco says simply before his face sours. "unless you so much as upset her just once, i swear to merlin potter–""draco." you interrupt his rage harshly, your eyes cold as ice as you caught his gaze.

harry smirks, but wipes it away so as to not make the situation worse. draco lets out an annoyed huff before apologizing to you curtly.

"well, best be on my way then, don't want to interrupt you two," draco says with a sneer, turning to the door. "i'll still see you for dinner tonight, right?" you ask eagerly, following and opening the door for draco. he nods. "of course," he says simply, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss on top of your head. with another dirty look at harry, draco turns and leaves silently.

you close the door with a shaky sigh, and harry's immediately coming to your side to comfort you. "[y/n], i'm so sorry that happened how it did. i never wanted to cause issues with you and draco," he explains, his hand instinctively reaching for your back to rub it comfortingly.

you're still collecting yourself, facing the door, turned away from harry as you sniffle and wipe your eyes. "it's okay," you say in a broken voice.

harry's heart aches at the sound. all he wants is to comfort you, hold you close, tell you it's okay to cry with him…

but he doesn't, because he knows he shouldn't.

"it's not okay, look how upset you are," harry says, bending down slightly to your height. "look, i wouldn't be upset if you told me you didn't want to see me anymore. your relationship with draco is important to you, and the last thing i want to do is complicate it," harry tells you softly.

you snap your head at him with a concerned look, eyes red from crying. "wh-what? no, i…don't say that," you stutter over yourself. you take a step towards harry, only a few inches apart at this point.

"harry, i want you in my life. even if draco didn't understand i would still…" you trail off, your eyes starting to water again as you blink the tears away. "i want you, harry," you say, your voice trembling with fear.

harry's mind is spinning hearing you say this. he's looking down at you, so close to him, so vulnerable, willing to lose what's closest to you just for him. you're so beautiful, so full of light, and so much more complex than he ever imagined. he's never felt so many feelings about one person so intensely all at once.

the only thing he knows, the only thing he can rely on, is that he wants you too.

harry's lost in your eyes for several seconds before he can respond. "i want you in my life, too," he says just above a whisper.

you smile, still a bit sad, but you seem fulfilled with his answer. stepping back and towards your bed, still wiping your eyes, you chuckle half-heartedly to yourself. "didn't think you'd see me cry so easily," you say, a little embarrassed as you shake your head. "i tried to fight it, but…" you continued laughing to yourself.

harry followed you, still giving you your space. he watched as you sat down on your bed with a sigh, your body still shaking from the rush. "it's okay to cry," he says, holding himself back from what he really wants to say. "i'm just sorry it happened this way,"

you give harry a half smile before looking away nervously. "he was going to figure it out soon, anyways. i've been spending more and more time 'studying with the girls' than i ever have, and he was getting suspicious," you tell him, shaking your head again.

harry chuckles to himself. he found it sweet that you made excuses to spend time with him, even if it meant sacrificing time with draco. he felt special, he couldn't lie. "so, i'm one of the girls now?" harry teases, crossing his arms with a smirk. you roll your eyes, holding in a giggle. "shut up," you whine, your cheeks going red. "it was the only thing i could come up with, okay?"

"no, no, it's funny," harry says with a shrug. you still give him a look, but reach for your textbook you left at the end of the bed. "whatever. can you just help me now?" you ask, still holding back a laugh with a suppressed smile.

harry just laughs and agrees, joining the bed next to you as he attempts to help you with the assignment. soon it was like draco was never there, and you were back to laughing, joking, sitting in comfortable silence together until you had to leave for dinner.

with a quick hug and a lingering goodbye, you separated down the hall from each other. harry thought about you the entire way to his room, and for the rest of the night by himself. it's not like harry never thought about you, of course, he certainly did more than he thought he should, but tonight was just different. he thought about what you said to draco, how you defended him so quickly, how you put yourself on the line to ask for draco's trust in that moment. it was like watching you turn your back on your family all over again.

harry had to admit he felt guilty. he's really grown to care about you since getting closer with you, and he hates to think he's constantly going to get in the way of your relationship with your family like he has already. just by being his friend you're already putting so much at risk, he'd hate to think about what would happen if things ever went further…

harry really has stop having these thoughts about you. he's just your friend, and he doesn't even know how he feels about you. sure, his feelings aren't complicated with anger or hatred anymore, but if anything they're even more confusing now. harry knew this would happen, that's why he built that wall between you and him in the first place. some part of him just knew one day you would be trouble.

but now, on the other side of that wall, harry was ready for the trouble. he was going to take it head on.

he didn't care what draco thought, or your parents, or anyone else, not even himself. all he cared about was that you made him happy, and he seemed to have the same affect on you. as long as harry focused on that, the rest was just noise.

a few months later the snow was melting, the school year was wrapping up, and you and harry were still going strong. as friends, anyway.

things became a lot more natural between you and harry after draco walked in on you two that day. you no longer felt the need to hide your time spent with harry. you were bringing him everywhere and he was doing the same with you. you got along perfectly with ron and hermione despite their hesitations at first, even becoming especially close to hermione with all of your similar interests and beliefs.

harry eventually met your friends too and got along with them just as well. soon you were together pretty much every day studying with friends, playing quidditch for fun, or going to diagon alley to window shop. harry more than enjoyed his time spent with you, and felt empty on the days he couldn't manage to see you for even a moment. you were so full of light you just made everything better, and harry couldn't get enough of it.

in fact, it was over this time that harry started to figure out that maybe what he was feeling towards you was more than just complicated guilt. maybe he didn't just really care about you, or find you really pretty, or really wanted to hold you when you were sad or scared; maybe, just maybe, he was starting to really like the malfoy sister.

this came as no surprise to him once he figured it out, really. since the literal first minute he saw you at just 12 years old he knew you were special. he was mesmerized from the moment you entered his life. even through every crush and short-lived girlfriend he's had these past few years, you were always more interesting to him.

it took a long time for harry to come around to his own feelings and emotions. he's simply never had the time to truly work out why he feels what he feels, or what causes certain sensations in his body. all he knew was that your eyes made his heart ache in a way that nobody else's did. not because he hates you, but, really, quite the opposite, actually.

even if he came to terms with his growing feelings for you, he tried to not let them get in the way of your friendship together. you were constantly thanking harry for dedicating his time to you, for spending long nights just talking with you, for helping you in every way he possibly could. he knew how much you valued your friendship with him, and so did he, so he pushed those other feelings to the side and tried to keep things friendly between you two.

however, it was getting to a point where harry could barely spend more than a few minutes thinking about anything outside of you. he brought you up constantly when you weren't around, everything reminded him of you, his entire mind was stained with you and it was starting to have an effect. ron and hermione had teased him for being so lovesick for a malfoy, which he shrugged off. he knew you were different, you weren't just a malfoy, you were entirely your own. he'd never met someone like you, you made him feel things he didn't even know were possible.

soon harry knew his feelings would grow to the point that they would begin interfering with how he acted with you. you already made him nervous just by being so pretty and comfortable around him, constantly making jokes and teasing him in a friendly way that just made harry feel so giddy inside. he knew soon his thoughts of you would start to get in the way of how he looked at you, how he talked to you, and it scared him. harry couldn't lose you now, you'd very quickly become an important part of his life that made him feel complete. his silly crush could never matter as much as his friendship with you.

there was a dinner being held for the last year students this weekend, and harry was trying to figure out a casual way to ask you to go with him so it felt friendly. he didn't want to be too casual and make you think he was asking as a last minute effort, but he also didn't want to be too formal and make you think he'd been thinking about this date for months. which, in reality, he had, and it was stressing him out.

harry finally figured he would just ask you like he'd ask you to do anything else with him, but he also wanted to wait for the right moment. however, he was running out of time, and you had been unexpectedly busy this past week so he's barely seen you. it's only a few days until then, and he still hasn't even found a formal outfit to wear, because he might not even go if you're not beside him.

luckily, harry had planned a time to meet with you tonight to 'study', which, again, usually involved you two sitting with open books as you chat about everything except class.

harry was on his way to the slytherin common room, a pep in his step as he tried to encourage himself to ask you without fear of rejection or judgment. it's just you, he knows you'll be kind either way, but he really wants you to say yes and he's not sure how he'll react to any other answer.

upon entering, you're already sitting and waiting for him on the sofa. slumped into the curve of the cushions, your nose buried in a book as your head is held up with a throw pillow. harry thinks you look so precious, all curled up with a book, it's tough for him to break you out of your daze.

but harry clears his throat, and you jump a little before smiling at him. "harryyy," you call out, closing your book as you throw your arms up for a hug.

harry comes over and leans down to give you a half hug. he doesn't realize just how much he's missed you until he catches a whiff of your perfume, and he's practically melting over you once again. everything about you intoxicates him.

"i've missed you, [y/n]," harry says before letting go. he sits across from you on the sofa, setting his bag down on the ground beside his feet. "i've missed you too, sorry things got so crazy," you laugh.

harry waves his hand at you. "don't worry about it. i'm just glad you were free tonight," he says, admiring you in the light of the fireplace. you just get more beautiful with time. something about you tonight is different, maybe it's your hair, maybe it's your comfy clothes, but harry's completely captivated by you in this moment.

you catch up with each other briefly, with harry mostly happily listening to you describe all the time you've spent with friends recently and the projects you've been working on for classes. he loves to listen to you tell stories, he just finds you so funny and endearing and could listen to you laugh all day if you'd let him.

after a while, harry builds the courage to bring up the dinner this weekend. he's just about to open his mouth when someone comes down the stairs into the common room.

draco, of course.

his icy stare lands on harry, and his face naturally twists in disgust. he looks at you, and the disgust drops to a neutral expressions. "[y/n]. potter." he says simply.

"hey, dray, where are you off to?" you ask, your eyes gesturing to his bag. draco shrugs, his eyes returning to harry with disdain. "just going out for a bit. need new shoes for dinner this saturday." he says, making his way to the door as he adjusts his over-the-shoulder bag.

"oh, shit, i forgot that's this weekend. do you have your suit?" you ask, your face dropping in concern. "i've got it. i'll see you later, okay?" draco says curtly as he opens the door. "okay," you say with a smile, waving as he leaves.

harry was suddenly hit with a realization he hadn't thought of before. of course. he felt so stupid not even considering it. what if you were already going with draco? he's your brother, and practically your best friend, of course you'd have to go with him.

harry tried not to think about draco much anymore, so it must've slipped his mind. he's seen him a few times since that day in your room when he found out you two were friends. mostly in passing, like what just happened, or in an awkward exchange as you went from hanging out with draco to spending time with harry like some strange divorced parent agreement.

other than that, draco was just your brother to harry, and though you brought him up a number of times, he was mostly a topic to avoid. so, harry forgot, and now he's even more nervous to ask you if you'd rather go to dinner with him this weekend.

"it's crazy draco's going to his last year dinner already…" you interrupt harry's thoughts, your voice trailing off. harry looks at you, and you're lost in thought. you look at him and smirk, reaching to push his shoulder. "and so are you! damn, you're old," you joke, trying to hide your laugh.

harry rolls his eyes, but you manage to get a laugh out of him. "have you asked someone yet? draco's taking that greengrass girl i believe, or at least he wanted to if he hasn't already chickened out," you say, still laughing.

harry can breathe a sigh of relief. he's not sure what he would've done if you were already going with draco. he had been trying to plan the perfect night since christmas.

"uh, actually, since you've already asked, i was hoping that you'd maybe like to join me?" harry asks, his eyes nervously shifting away from yours.

"oh," you say, clearly taken aback. harry's gaze meet yours again, and he's instantly sweating at your reaction. "unless, y'know, you don't want to, or…i'm sure someone's asked you already," harry interjects, trying to laugh it off entirely.

you're watching harry closely, your cheeks slowly turning red. "um, no, actually, no one's asked, and…i would love to go with you, i just…" you trail off again, your eyes still wide with surprise.

harry prepares himself for rejection. he knows there's a number of reasons you'd say no, and draco's at the top of the list.

"frankly, i have nothing to wear," you say, a bit embarrassed as your blush only deepens. harry breathes yet another sigh of relief. you always manage to put him through so many emotions and you don't even realize it.

"you could be wearing a paper bag and i'd just be glad you're standing next to me," harry tells you with a laugh. you drop your head, clearly flustered.

when you look up at harry, you have a shy smile pinching your cheeks. he thinks you look so adorable, knees to your chest, completely flushed, giggling like a nervous school girl. "well, then, i'd love to go with you, harry. but no paper bag. maybe after dinner." you tease him.

harry laughs with you, but part of him wonders if you're flirting with him a bit.

the rest of the night was spent joking, laughing, and enjoying the warmth of the fire together. before harry left, you thanked him for asking you, even if it was such short notice you'd have to spend all day shopping tomorrow. "don't feel pressured, i'm sure you'd look beautiful in whatever you already have," harry had told you, eager to get a blush out of you again.

when you did, harry smiled proudly and gave you a warm hug goodbye. he was practically skipping back to his room to tell ron he'd finally asked you, and that you'd actually said yes. ron was happy for harry, teasing him for taking so long, but nothing could bring harry down. even if he just meant it as being friendly, as he's sure you did as well, this was still a date in his mind.

and, shit, he still needed an outfit.

the night of the dinner, harry waited patiently outside the dining hall doors with his gift for you in hand. there was a soft mumbling coming from the dining hall as people began gathering, speaking to each other, and listening to the small band playing instrumental music. however, all harry can hear is his blood pumping through his ears as he nervously waits to see you for the first time tonight.

harry went for a simple suit, all black, nothing too showy or special as he wasn't sure what you were wearing. he actually hadn't been able to speak with you since the night he asked you to come with him, only agreeing to meet you right here just before he'd left the slytherin common room. his heart was pounding, and he felt like a young teen again, waiting for his crush to come around the corner. but he wasn't a kid anymore, and you were so much more than just a first year crush. you were everything.

harry hears someone walking up behind him, and as he turns, he's instantly drawn to you. walking arm in arm with draco, also dressed in all black, you're wearing a dark green dress that fits you perfectly, hugging your waist and hips like it was tailor fit. it's floor-length, with an off-the-shoulder neckline, and your hair is twisted up into a curly, elegant bun, with multiple curls hanging out for a casual look.

your outfit and hair are nothing, however, in comparison to just how beautiful your smile is.

harry's absolutely captivated by you. he knew you'd look beautiful, like he said, you could make a paper bag work, but he didn't think it was possible for a single person to be so striking. he was sure he looked like a complete fool, jaw slack open as he stared into your beautiful eyes from down the hall, but he truly couldn't help himself. you were everything.

"[y/n]," he manages to say once you're closer. "you look incredible," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. you smile, turning towards draco with a growing blush.

harry looks at draco, who's already staring at him with a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

"draco," harry greets him, trying to be courteous. "potter," draco spits out, seeing through him.

you slightly roll your eyes, motioning for draco to go into the dining hall without you. "i'm sure daphne's waiting for you," you tease him with a smirk, pushing him along. draco gives harry a dirty look the entire time he passes him, and even until he's left the hall.

harry can't bring himself to care. all he can think about right now is you.

he's so mesmerized by you he forgets he has something in his hands, nearly dropping the slim box before gripping it tightly again, clearing his throat to break his focus.

"what's that?" you ask, looking at the simple black box in harry's grasp. harry can hear the smirk in your voice, knowing it's for you.

"i-i don't know, guess you'll have to open it to see," he says, handing it over to you. you scoff at him, still smirking as you accept the gift.

upon opening it, you gasp. a beautiful necklace with green gemstones that match your dress perfectly. "harry…" you gasped, staring at the jewelry in your hands. "it's beautiful…and, my dress, how did you know?" you ask in disbelief. harry just chuckles. "you have green everything, my little slytherin," he reminds you.

you blush again, handing harry the necklace. "put it on me?" you ask, turning around and holding up the curls that might be in his way.

harry nervously unclasped the necklace and put it on you, taking extra care to let his hands graze across the skin of your neck more times than what was necessary.

as you turn around, harry's heart races. it's perfect. it matches your dress, it looks amazing on your skin, and it pulls your entire look together. it draws the perfect amount of attention to your beautiful shoulders and collarbones. harry was extra proud of himself for this one.

looking down at it, you touch the necklace carefully, admiring it. "i spent forever looking for a necklace for tonight, and i couldn't find one i liked, but…it's perfect, harry, thank you," you say, throwing your hands around harry's neck as you embrace him tightly. harry smiles, his heart still racing as he pulls you in close. "thank you for coming with me tonight. i didn't want to come at all if it wasn't with you." he tells you, placing a soft kiss on your head just in front of your curly bun. you give him a shy smile before pulling him to the dining room.

it was an incredible night together. ron and hermione had quickly found you both, and hermione was gushing over how good you looked the entire time. ron was watching her with so much love in his eyes it made harry a little sick, but he was happy for his friends. he gave ron a knowing look, which ron just shook his head at and escorted himself and hermione away to get drinks.

as you and harry made your rounds around the room, meeting up with friends and stopping to say hello to professors, harry noticed just how many people were watching you and whispering amongst themselves. you two had spent plenty of time together this year, so it wasn't necessarily a shock to see the boy who lived hanging out with the malfoy sister anymore, but people were seemingly still stunned by the fact that you came with him tonight, and that you looked as good as you did.

after a while of mingling, harry caught draco's stare from across the room. his arm was entwined with his date's, but his full attention was on you and harry. he rolled his eyes at harry and walked away, pulling his date with him. harry shrugged him off and his attention turned back to you.

beautiful, perfect, effortless you.

your arm was wrapped around his in the same way, as it had been all night. harry expected himself to be incredibly nervous and awkward tonight seeing you so dolled up to be his date, as a friend, of course. but he was surprised at how natural everything felt with you. it always had, nothing ever felt forced between you two, conversation and smiles seemed to just flow naturally without either of you trying. it just made sense to harry, being with you, holding you close to him, being together in front of everyone. it was all he'd wanted for so long.

sitting down to eat dinner, you quickly made conversation with hermione and ron as harry took the seat to your left, admiring you as you laughed with hermione over something he hadn't heard. you just looked so beautiful tonight under these candlelights, in the necklace harry picked out for you, the jewels falling just above the curve of your breasts spilling from your dark dress.

as you leaned forward to whisper something to hermione, harry got the perfect view of your chest from his seat, his eyes lingering for a moment too long before ron noticed and started snickering at him.

harry gave ron a look, kicking his foot under the table.

once dinner is served, the hall quiets as everyone enjoys their plates and drinks. some small talk is shared between bites, multiple glasses are drunk amongst you, ron, harry, and hermione, and the laughter continues throughout dinner.

before dessert comes, you and hermione take a short trip to the bathroom, leaving harry with ron. they laugh once they're alone, out of habit.

"i know i give you a hard time, but really, harry, i think [y/n]'s good for you. i haven't seen you this smitten in a long time, not since you dated my sister," ron teases, taking a sip of his drink as he chuckles to himself.

harry gives him a look, but can't help the smile growing on his face. "thanks, ron. but we're just here as friends. not like you and hermione," harry tries to turn the teasing back to ron, cocking his eyebrow with a knowing smile.

ron rolls his eyes. "please, at least i can say she's my girlfriend. you don't wanna be friends with [y/n] and you know it," ron responds, not giving in.

harry stays quiet.

as you and hermione return, giggling from across the table, you put a hand on harry's neck down to his shoulder to steady yourself as you sat in your dress.

harry got the shivers, but gave you a friendly smile as you met his eyes. you took back your hand, smiling at him in return.

while eating dessert, harry can feel draco staring at him again from somewhere in the room, but he can't bring himself to care enough to find his gaze. if draco wants to watch harry enjoy his date with draco's beautiful sister, he can spend all night watching for all that harry cares.

harry's thoughts are interrupted as he hears you let out a soft moan beside him. your spoon is left in your mouth as you pull it out slowly, your eyes closed delicately. harry watches discreetly, not wanting to draw ron and hermione's attention from their own conversation, but he's enamored with the way you let the spoon leave your lips, enjoying the dessert in front of you.

"so yummy," you say happily, your eyes rolling over to harry. he turns to look at you fully with a chuckle. "yes, very yummy," he teases you.

you narrow your eyes at him. "you're yummy," you tell him, laughing. harry's stunned before you continue. "i didn't even get to tell you, but you do look really good tonight, harry. you clean up well." you say softly, your words just for him.

harry's still a bit stunned, but tried to not let his nerves get in the way. "well, thank you, [y/n]. and, i never got to tell you as much as i should have tonight, but, you just…amaze me with how stunning you are," harry sighs, not caring how lovesick he looks as he continues to admire you, a true work of art sitting right beside him.

you chuckle, taking your bottom lip in your mouth. harry memorizes every detail of you, never wanting to forget how lucky he is to have you beside him tonight.

"thank you, harry. it was a bit difficult for me, all this, just reminds me of home…" you say, gesturing to the grand dinner party going on around you. harry gives you a sympathetic look and a reassuring hand on your knee. you look at him, your eyes sending more shivers down harry's spine.

"we can leave whenever you're ready," harry tells you with a soft smile and lingering gaze. "you just say the word and we'll go 'study' in pajamas," he's only half joking.

you laugh at him again, but harry believes it's full of love. "there's nowhere i'd rather be," you assure him, putting your own hand on his knee.

harry blushes like crazy at the contact, but just laughs you off again.

after dessert the band starts playing more upbeat music, and the floor is cleared towards the front of the room for people to dance. you pull harry to the floor, along with a number of other couples, and start dancing with him. harry's not a very skilled dancer, so he just follows your lead and has fun moving around with you randomly, letting himself be free as the music and other people dancing relaxes his nerves.

after a while of dancing separately, you grab harry's hand and begin dancing closer to him, still laughing and smiling as you twirl yourself around, making him laugh as well. harry starts playfully moving with you, bringing you closer to him and further away, again and again until you're a giggling mess in his arms, practically falling all over him.

just as harry's enjoying the feeling of you in his arms, draco comes out of nowhere just beside him. "[y/n]," he snaps, trying to contain himself.

you look at draco, your smile fading at his irritated expression. "i'm leaving, just thought you should know." his words bitter, examining you entwined in harry's arms.

"draco," you start to say, but he's already making his way around you to the back door. you try to go after him instinctually, but harry pulls you back. "stay here, i'll talk to him," he says, surprising both you and himself as you turn to look at him. hermione comes up beside harry, watching the interaction from afar.

"harry…" you warn him. but harry gives you a reassuring squeeze of the hand, already heading for the door himself. "trust me?" he says, letting you go and turning away as hermione grabs your hand instead and begins asking what happened.

as harry enters the hallway, he sees draco's turned back heading away from the dining hall.

"draco," harry calls out, causing draco to stop in his tracks.

he turns to harry, an odd look on his face before he scoffs. "did she really send you to try and talk to me, or are you just dumber than i originally thought?" draco responds, shoving his hand in his pocket.

"no, i came to talk to you. i'm tired of this, draco. can't you just let [y/n] and i be friends?" harry asks, trying to contain his own anger.

draco only rolls his eyes harder, making his way towards harry with an angry step. "oh, please, potter, you're not fooling anyone. and, frankly, neither is she anymore." draco retorts, stopping a few feet away from harry with a nod to the dining hall doors.

harry's confused at his statement, and draco can tell just from the look on his face, which only makes him angrier. "you're clearly shagging my sister. and to top it all off, you made her your little date for the night in front of everyone here. and, honestly, you should be kissing the ground i walk on for letting you even so much as look at her, you fucking pig." draco's words are dripping venom, clearly having the words ready to spew in harry's face.

harry is dumbfounded, and actually outwardly laughs at draco's statement. draco takes another step towards harry, visibly turning red with anger. "don't make me fucking kill you, i'd hate to hurt my sister's feelings like that."

harry just continues to chuckle, his arms crossing. "well, as flattered as i am that you think she'd shag me, we're just friends. really." harry informs him, a smirk on his face.

draco looks at him confused, his expression falling for only a moment before returning. "well then, you still clearly like her. and you're not very good at hiding it, either." he says, his voice faltering as he steps back.

harry can't disagree with him there. as much as he hates draco, he's not going to lie to him and say he doesn't have feelings for his sister when he knows he does. it's just not right.

"and so what if i do, huh? it's our last month of classes, malfoy. after this you'll never hear her talk about me again. is that what you want? because that's what's going to happen." harry says, his anger seeping through again as he admits what he believes to be true.

draco is in even more disbelief than before. he just looks at harry like he's joking. "are you being serious or are you trying to fuck with me?" he asks, examining harry from head to toe.

harry's even more confused. "what?"

draco turns away, chuckling to himself in both disbelief and anger. "i was right, you are dumber than i thought," he starts out, giving harry a look before turning away again. harry's hands ball into fists before he releases them, letting out an angry huff.

"[y/n]'s clearly all over you, spending all her time with you, you're all she ever bloody talks about anymore, fucking hell i thought you were shagging her, for god's sake," draco rants, his back still turned to harry. "she's been obsessed with you since we were kids. all she ever asked me, 'what's harry like, draco? is harry potter really that brave, draco?' blah blah blah," draco mocks you in a high pitched voice.

"and just when i thought she had found some sense in her and loathed you along with me for a few years, you trapped her again with your fucking namesake and…god knows what else she sees in you," draco sneers back at harry, turning to him once again.

"so yeah, excuse me while i watch my baby sister, my only solace in this lifetime, practically throw herself all over you at this pathetic party," draco gestures back to the room, his eyes cold as ice as he continues staring through harry.

harry's stunned by draco's outburst, but is more stunned that he thinks you may like harry back.

they stand there for a moment, examining each other, draco breathing heavily and unevenly as he tries to regain his composure.

harry's not sure exactly what he should say to him in this moment, so he just speaks the truth, the only thing he knows. "i care about [y/n], draco,"

draco rolls his eyes for another time. "no, really, draco. i do, and i have this whole time. i don't know if she feels the same, but, quite honestly, i don't care. all i know is that she makes me happy, and i hope i can do the same for her. that's all." harry tells draco, his eyes searching for a response.

draco just watches harry for a moment, his expression unreadable as he finds the words to respond.

he sighs, his body language completely shifting as he turns away from harry, his hand covering his face in distress. "you're an idiot if you think she doesn't. she turned her back on us, on me, because she was fighting for you. she was never like my parents." draco says softly, his anger fading.

"she was fighting for what was right." harry reminds him, making draco laugh sarcastically as he moves on.

"you know, she's the only thing i care about. the only person i not only tolerate, but actually love." draco says even softer before turning to scowl at harry again. "when she chose you that day, i wasn't surprised. i wasn't even mad. [y/n]'s always been that way. it's part of the reason why i keep her so close to me." draco's words are the nicest they've been directed at harry all night.

"now i know you wouldn't understand family love, potter," draco smirks, causing harry to bite his tongue. "but that girl is everything to me. when she trusts you, when she believes in you, when she turned her back to me in hopes i could see what she sees in you…" draco trails off a bit before turning away again.

"i know she's right."

harry's more than shocked at draco's words. he can barely process his sentiment before draco continues talking, making his way down the hall.

"so, again, i may not like it, but i'll try to be civil. if you, just, please, potter," draco turns one last time, a slight smirk on his face. "for my sake. just ask the damn girl on a date so she'll shut the hell up about it."

with that, draco's gone and around the corner, out of harry's sight.

harry's left alone with his thoughts, the muffled music from the dining hall filling the air around him.

he can hardly comprehend what draco's just told him, both about you and about his belief in harry. but mostly when it comes to you.

you. alone in the dining hall.

just as harry turns, you're opening the door, your sweet face twisted with worry as you search the halls behind him. "where's draco?" you ask urgently, making your way out of the doorway as it closes behind you.

harry's hands go to your shoulders, and you look at him. he smiles down at you, his mind spinning as he examines your beautiful face still pointed with concern.

"he's fine. we talked."

you give harry another shocked look like earlier, your mouth slightly open. "you and draco?" you ask in disbelief.

harry just chuckles at you, looking you up and down again to fully appreciate just how good you looked in front of him. "have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" harry asks, his eyes still wandering. knowing you seem to like him as well, harry takes this opportunity to test the waters with you.

you instantly blush, but you give harry a knowing look. "yes, harry. now, what did you talk about?" you ask suspiciously.

harry, again, just chuckles, pulling you to his side as he turns to the hall. "let's get out of here, hm?" he asks, already leading you away.

"oh, but, hermione and ron?" you ask suddenly, gesturing back to the party. harry shakes his head. "they won't mind."

you're a bit confused as harry continues to lead you towards the gryffindor common room, but he distracts you with plenty of compliments and questions asking if you enjoyed yourself tonight.

harry then leads you to his room where his nerves finally hit him. he had been confident until now, but it was make or break time. if draco was right and you did actually like harry, he was finally ready to make his move.

what that move was exactly, he's not sure.

but again, things with you are so natural, and once you close the door, it only feels right for harry to come up to you against the doorway. he smiles down at you, a nervous, blushing, beautiful angel just within his grasp.

without thinking, harry's mouth does the talking for him.

"[y/n]," he starts, his heart racing as you look up at him innocently. "can i kiss you?"

you're clearly shocked by his question, but don't miss the chance to eagerly nod your head, already leaning towards harry. he smiles, gently pushing you against the door as his lips finally lock with yours.

the kiss is urgent, needy, but full of longing and love. your hands find their way to harry's neck instantly, and his continue to linger against your shoulders. your body arches into his, clearly already wanting more just from a short kiss.

harry isn't stopping anytime soon though, as he's thought of this moment longer than he's planned to ask you to dinner tonight.

he savors everything about your kiss. your enchanting smell, the softness of your lips, the moans rumbling from the back of your throat; all of it is driving him crazy, but he's insistent on enjoying the moment for what it simply was. a kiss he's wanted so long from a beautiful girl he thought he could never have.

however, you're not as keen on savoring anything as you only become more desperate under harry's lips. your tongue is quickly involved, though harry's not complaining as you explore his mouth with hunger.

he's a bit flustered at your boldness, but isn't afraid of it. if anything harry only enjoys seeing you quickly submit to your desire for him. he wasn't sure how this would go, but clearly you've wanted this as badly as he has, if not even worse.

his hands finally begin to wander as he traces your collarbones lightly, his fingers running over the jewels of the necklace he bought you. "look so pretty in my gift," harry tells you between kissing you. you moan in response, your hips finding harry's as you only bring him closer to you.

before long you're dragging harry to his bed, his hands falling from your shoulders to your waist and down to your hips.

you sit on his bed, and your hand instantly lands on harry's belt, lingering fingers on the cold metal. harry just looks at you in shock. he didn't expect you to initiate anything like this so quickly.

"u-uh…" is all he can say with you looking up at him like that, your eyes already drooping so seductively as you messed with his buckle innocently.

"please?" you taunt him, your finger making its way down his semi erected cock under his slacks.

harry sighs. he wants to, he really wants to, but he wonders if it's too much all at once for you. he doesn't want you to think this is all he was looking for.

"[y/n]...i, i really like you…you don't have to–""i like you too, harry," you interrupt him, a sweet smile on your bitten lips. "i want this. so bad. please. you don't have to, but…" you practically beg, your fingers still toying with the latch of the belt as you bring your pouted lips closer to it.

harry sighs again, his hand stroking your hair as he admires you from above. so pretty, so innocent. it's like you wanted him to ruin all of that.

"i want to, but, you don't have to," harry reminds you, his cheeks starting to turn red. you giggle, and it only makes harry even more turned on. "i want to, but, you don't have to," you mock him, slowly unbuckling his belt and slacks.

harry chuckles nervously, watching you intently. he really does want to, and as long as you want to as well, who's he to deny you of what you both want?

soon your mouth is wrapped around the tip of his cock through his briefs, your warm tongue laid flat across the head as you continue watching harry's expression through your eyelashes.

his head is rolling back in pleasure already, his erection only getting more uncomfortable as it hardens in response to you.

you help him take his underwear off, and your lips reattach to the head of his cock, your tongue licking his precum. he's watching you with a lax jaw, his eyebrows furrowed as you continue running your tongue in circles around the sensitive tip.

he's already in pure bliss, his hand finding your hair again as he continues to admire you. even when you're in such a filthy position below him, you still look so soft and beautiful.

from this angle he has the perfect view of your breasts, and you notice his eyes flickering from your own down to your chest. pulling your lips off of harry, you pull down the neckline of your dress and let your tits pop out of the restricting fabric.

harry can hardly believe the sight he's witnessing in front of him.

before he can try to process just how incredibly sexy you look with your elegant dress pulled down below your tits, your mouth returned to his throbbing cock, along with your hands. you start to bring more of him into your mouth, using your hands to stroke him slowly. harry was practically thrusting into your hands and mouth at that point, desperate for relief.

you can see how worked up harry's getting, so you stop, much to his disappointment. you have harry lay on his bed as you make a show taking your dress the rest of the way off along with your shoes and stockings. once you're left only in your panties, you get back on top of harry to kiss him again.

"so fucking beautiful, darling," harry growls into your lips, his hands grabbing for your tits. you giggle, your hands going to harry's button up as you start to take it off of him.

once it comes off, you pull harry back into the kiss. his hand travel down to your hips as you start grinding against his throbbing cock. "baby, please," he pleads, the teasing becoming too much.

you giggle again, sliding your panties off carefully with harry's help. he also helps you line yourself up with him as you slowly lower yourself onto harry's cock.

your eyes roll in pleasure, a slight whimper of discomfort escaping your lips as harry's hand goes to your face, comforting you. "slow, my love," he reminds you, guiding your hips with his other hand.

once you're starting to moan in pleasure, your speed increases, your eyes locking with harry's as you already feel pressure begin to build inside you.

just looking at him makes you whimper pathetically. "god, harry, i've wanted this for so long," you tell him, leaning down for another kiss as you readjust your position on top of him.

harry's hands trace the curves of your body as you continue riding him, his thoughts incoherent as the pleasure rises by the second. your heavy breathing into his ear and beautiful body against his in the lowlight of his room is everything he's ever wanted.

"wanted you so bad, [y/n]," harry moans as you sit back up, your tits bouncing as you grind down into harry's cock.

he admires your body, your perfect curves, your insane hips, and he's even more turned on. you're already truly perfect in every way, but you have the most phenomenal body harry's ever witnessed to top it all off.

"you're perfect," he tells you, his hands gripping for your hips and ass. you giggle, your hand covering your flustered smile as you continue whimpering and whining, riding him into your own oblivion.

"h-harry…" your voice is so broken it only makes harry hungrier, his hips thrusting upwards slightly into you to relieve the tension. "fuck," he cries, his eyes going dark just watching you fall apart for him.

"harry…please…" you lean back down, your lips grazing his ear as you made your request. "cum inside me?"

harry's in disbelief, he pulls you back to see if you're joking, but you're only looking at him hopefully through hooded eyes, still riding his cock in perfect rhythm.

"are you crazy, [y/n]?" he asks with a laugh, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sarcasm, his stomach still tightening in overwhelming pleasure.

"yes. for you." you tell him seriously, your pace quickening on top of him, your tits bouncing against harry's chest. he winces from the rush of pleasure.

"f-fuck, [y/n]," he utters, barely able to hold himself bsck.

you moan, your hands grabbing harry's as you pin them down beside him. "mm, keep moaning my name like that, harry, you're gonna make me cum already…" you tell him, your face resting against his.

harry moans your name repeatedly, only getting more and more desperate as you pleasure yourself using his cock. he was almost completely lost in the moment before you squealed, your hands squeezing harry's as you tightened around his cock, your hips stuttering as you ride out your high, breathing heavily.

harry's overwhelmed with the feeling and sight of you orgasming on him, your face twisting as you moan his name in return, filthy sounds escaping your innocent lips. he's getting closer before he remembers what you asked him.

"i'm, [y/n], i'm gonna cum," harry says as you're still moving your hips to satisfy your climax. you moan again, letting your head fall into harry's neck as you continue holding down his hands. your pace quickens again, and harry is a mess under you.

"cum inside me harry, please, give it to me, i'm yours, i want to be all yours, please, please, harry, breed me and make my pussy yours," you have no shame in begging harry, his hips bucking as you only grind against him quicker.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," harry's cursing, slightly in panic. he wants to cum so badly, and the idea of you wanting him to breed you just from the first time you're together makes him even more turned on. part of him is scared, but it only ends up fueling the desire and taboo more as harry finally unloads inside of you, his voice breaking as he continues cursing between heavy breaths.

you're enjoying the moment thoroughly, your pussy quivering as it's filled with harry's warm cum. you go to give him another kiss, and he can barely reciprocate.

you giggle at harry a bit, wincing as you gently pull his cock outside of you. harry groans, but his eyes remained closed, still catching his breath. you offer to help him clean up, and it takes a moment, but he agrees, following you to his bathroom and admiring your naked body in the soft light of the room.

afterwards, harry insists you stay with him for the night as he hands you one of his favorite shirts to sleep in. you accept, laughing at his lovesick attitude already, and climb into bed beside him for the night.

harry can hardly believe he has you in his arms, finally, after being so captivated by you for practically his whole life. he's thankful to have you next to him, smiling as you trace his skin, telling him how much you've liked him this whole time, how you don't care if your parents don't approve, and how much you need him in your life. harry feels at peace with you, his little slytherin, in his bed, the moon the only source of light across your tired face. he truly finds you so beautiful, inside and out.

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