#yuta insecure reader

[chuluoyi]

✎ daddy-to-be

- gojo satoru x reader

in which you're worried about how he'd react to you carrying his baby

genre: fluff and comfort, mentions of pregnancy and dizzy spells

note: i feel soooo warm writing this *sigh* thank u anon who asked this!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Gojo-sensei! Must we do this?"

"For real?!"

"Okaka..."

"Yoohoo! Hehehehe~"

You sighed at the sight of your tall paintbrush of a husband. Satoru was supposedly teaching his first years—Maki, Panda and Inumaki—and yet, from where you were standing, it looked more like he was bullying them into following his whims more than anything.

A kind reminder that… this silly man is the father of your unborn child.

He didn't know that you were pregnant yet, because you had discovered it just a few days ago and chosen to keep it a secret for the time being.

In theory, this was normal. You two were married and engaged in a high level of sexual activity—something Satoru made sure of—and therefore, conceiving a child was bound to happen sooner or later.

Admittedly, accepting the fact that you were carrying his baby wasn't as easy as you thought, even knowing that. You hadn't seriously talked about having kids, and sure, your husband might have just taken a young cursed boy Yuta into his care—and way before that, Megumi, but it wasn't the same with your own child. It can't be the same.

And not to mention that you two were jujutsu sorcerers. Where would raising a baby fit in this bloody, cursed world you lived in?

...and above all, as things stand now, does Satoru even want a baby?

You released another sigh as you walked away, but then your vision tipped and you had to grab the wall for support. Right, you hadn't even been feeling well these past few days. You got queasy easily, and you experienced sporadic bouts of vertigo too.

"Sensei?" Yuta's worried voice greeted you, and you forced yourself to remain upright. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, yes, I'm fine," you assured him with a smile.

"Should I get Gojo-sensei? You seem pale..."

"No, no, that's—"

"Ooh~ Wifey!"

You cursed his impeccable timing as the striking white hair of your husband came to view. A mischievous grin adorned his face, a bundle of sunshine and trouble as always, as he wrapped an arm around you.

"Don't you have to teach the second years? My pretty wife, you can't be slacking—"

His smile abruptly fell when you subconsciously leaned on him and he noticed your shallow breaths. Satoru promptly tightened his grip on you.

"Yuta," his tone had taken a sharper turn. "Go to the training grounds and train with the others. Class ends after that."

As Yuta nodded and proceeded on his way, he immediately turned to face you. "What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern. "Are you not feeling well? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," you insisted, even though the edges of your vision started to blur.

Satoru pursed his lips, and you could tell even with his blindfold on, he was staring at you hard. "Don't be stubborn. Come on, let's get you home."

In an instant, he teleported you back to your shared home, his arms securely under your knees. You didn't know when the dizziness started to ramp up, but you were sure to fall if he didn't have a secure grip on you.

"How long have you been feeling unwell?" he inquired as he carefully lowered you onto your bed.

Realizing there was no point in hiding it any longer, you squeezed your eyes shut as your head rested on the soft pillow. "...since this morning."

Satoru expressed his dissatisfaction with a grunt. "In that case, you shouldn't have gone to school. From now on, you're on leave."

He fussed over you—removing your shoes, fine-tuning the air conditioner, and ensuring you were snug in bed. "What is causing you to feel this bad? Is it something you ate? We had dinner together, and I feel perfectly fine..."

You raised your gaze to him just as he tore off his blindfold, his eyes locking with yours. The blue of his eyes scrutinizing and assessing you, and suddenly, you felt insecure as he quirked an eyebrow, seemingly suspecting something. “Is there something you aren't telling me?”

This is it. You couldn't keep this from him any longer. This was his child as much as yours, he had to know for you to be able to decide on the next steps.

You exhaled. "I'm… pregnant."

Silence. For the next five seconds, you could've sworn that Satoru held his own breath.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, stunned, widened cerulean marbles blinking several times. "You...?"

You sat up, reaching for your nightstand and retrieving the five pregnancy tests you had stashed in the drawer, handing them to him.

Satoru fixed his gaze onto the two red lines on the sticks, examining them and then shifting his eyes between you and them several times. You didn't dare to look at him, feeling your hands starting to shake and your gut twisting.

But contrary to your dread, before you could blink, he pulled you into his embrace. Your heart melted as he softly murmured, "Dummy, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I was worried. I didn't think I..."

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing in deeply. "Silly... I'm supposed to be your safe space. You can and absolutely should tell me these kind of things..."

A lingering fear persisted in your gut as you croaked out, "Are you... okay with it?"

Satoru snapped his head so quickly, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean—of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

You didn't know why, but his impromptu and steadfast declaration brought tears to your eyes.

"Stupid," he chided, his voice tinged with slight giddiness and overflowing fondness, and doubled with the wide grin on his face, you were starstruck. Holding your hand, he pressed a tender kiss on your knuckles, and then on the wedding band resting on your ring finger.

His sincere, warm eyes spoke volumes as he said, "You are my beautiful, lovely, and amazing wife. And now you're about to make me a daddy. Why wouldn't I be thrilled about that?"

You had given him love that saved him in countless ways, some of which you might not even realize. And now, you were about to gift him another piece of you to love—his own family to cherish. Satoru was convinced he couldn't love you more than he did in this moment.

You cried even harder, wiping your face sloppily as you pouted at him, voice clogged with tears, a mixture of relief and happiness overwhelming you. "Why are you so s-sweet? You're u-usually... such a menace..."

"Hey! That's slander! I'm always nice to you!" he protested with a mock frown, trying to lighten the mood.

Satoru brought you into his arms again, affectionately stroking your hair. His excitement was palpable as he chuckled gleefully at the very idea of becoming a father to a mini-him or you in a not-so-distant future.

With that sentiment in mind, he genuinely meant every word of what he softly uttered in your ear:

"I love you, sweetheart. And mark my words—with everything I have, I won't let anything happen to you or our baby… I swear it."

[gojonanami]

❝ 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)

✧ w/c: 25,305 | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

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

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[6:18 pm]

(cw: f!reader, profanity, mentions of alcohol, insecurity, jealousy)

You thought you'd already met all of fratboy!Jaehyun's friends, and that felt like a real accomplishment because well, there was so many. There were his frat brothers (not just friends, he'd corrected you), his friends from his business classes, the guys he worked out with, the guys he played sports with, the baristas he talked to the most, and his best friends from childhood. But this was a group of friends you hadn't even considered. His friends from high school.

Apparently they hadn't been all that close in high school, but upon coming to the same university, they grew closer. It was comforting to have a few familiar faces around and a taste of home when they missed it. So here you were with Jaehyun at a pizza parlor a few blocks away from campus surrounded by friends that went to the same school as you as well as a few people that came to visit for the weekend.

You didn't feel nervous as you got ready for the night, didn't feel off put when you walked into the bar at Jaehyun's side, didn't even feel the slightest bit anxious when you started meeting and talking to all these new people. They were easy to talk to. They were kind and funny and with all the alcohol that was flowing through the bar and the crowd, they were infinitely easier to connect with. Now you knew why Jaehyun had stayed friends with them for so long.

And it was fun while it lasted. A pair of late comers walks into the bar and one girl you recognize from a poli sci class you took in your second semester and the other girl... the look on Jaehyun's face tells you he knows her very well. They come around and introduce themselves and it all makes sense when she shakes your hand and introduces herself as, "Hana." Oh.

Hana. Hana, Jaehyun's ex-girlfriend. Hana, Jaehyun's first and only love. Oh. Oh shit.

Surely, you had to be imagining the way her and Jaehyun and Hana embraced for too long. Or imagining the way Jaehyun and Hana giggled over something after speaking in hushed tones. Or maybe the way Hana rushed through her greetings of everyone else from high school only to return to Jaehyun to continue their private, quiet conversation.

She was pretty too. Her makeup was flawless, a glowy base, a perfect wing, her gloss was the perfect undertone for her skin tone, and her eyelashes were long and she wasn't even wearing fake lashes! She didn't have a single hair out of place on her head, in fact it looked like hair right out of a shampoo commercial. Silky, shiny, and down to her waist. Her outfit was cool, but not in a 'I'm trying hard to be cool' more in an effortless cool way.

You self-consciously ran a hand over your hair. You thought you looked good when you left the frat house. Taeyong had told you as much and he was one of the most stylish guys you knew and Yuta had helped you fix your hair. You felt pretty when you left, but next to Hana? You weren't so sure.

How was it that you felt like you were suffering from boyfriend air and Jaehyun wasn't even your fucking boyfriend? Your hair wasn't smooth like Hana's, last you checked, your makeup had already settled into your smile lines, and when you met Jaehyun he just didn't look at you the way he looked at Hana!

Why were they just standing at the counter, ignoring everyone around them, laughing like nothing?! Was he flirting with her?! Had he just been anxiously awaiting her return?! Were you just the space filler for when she came back?! And why the fuck was he looking at you now?! And why was she?! And she was looking at you with her perfectly lined and glossed lips and a sweet smile?

The girl from your poli sci class walks over and Jaehyun walks over to you. He smirks at you from the rim of his glass. He smirks at you like he knows that something you don’t know. And when has that ever been the case? You’re the one on the Dean’s list, not him.

“You’ve been staring at Hana and playing with your hair for like 5 minutes now,” he stated lowly as he took the now empty seat beside you.

“No I haven’t.”

“You have though, sweets,” Jaehyun presses on, leaning in close to you so you can smell his cologne.

“And how would you know? Have you been looking at me?” You ask sarcastically.

“I’m always looking at you, sweets,” he replies, pressing a kiss against the apple of your cheek.

Your heart skips a beat as your face flushes hot, but you can’t shake the pout from your face. How could he have been looking at you when your eyes were on him the entire time? Well… on Hana. Hana and her perfect hair and immaculate makeup and cool outfit—

“Sweets, tell me what’s going through your head?” Jaehyun asks you softly. You break your staring contest with the painting on the wall and turn instead to look at Jaehyun. The smug look on his face has disappeared and turned into a look of something tender and warm.

You feel embarrassed, uneasy, and self-conscious, and frankly, you don’t want to be having this conversation here! Or at all! You had to try to be open with Jaehyun though, if you wanted this to progress into something more, and you did. You really did want something more with him. You take a deep shaky breath and exhale, “are you going to leave me for Hana?”

“W-why would you say that?” Jaehyun asks with wide eyes, eyeing the group around the both of you to make sure no one is listening.

“Jaehyun, you told me she was your first love. Her hair is straight out of a salon-grade shampoo commercial, her makeup looks like a professional did it, and she was your first love! You didn’t even tell me why you both broke up but we’ve been— us for a while now and she’s just so wow! I’m just me and maybe seeing her reminded you of some hidden feelings,” you ramble in a passionate whisper, “And she just waltzed back in here and the two of you just fall back into whatever routine you had.”

You drop your forehead into your hands, feeling overwhelmed by your confession but unable to stop yourself, “and you… you don’t look at her the way you look at me and I hate it. You guys have like this undeniable chemistry.”

“Sweets, her and I are broken up and I like you. I like you a lot, sweet girl,” Jaehyun starts, cupping your cheek while looking deep into your eyes, “can you stop comparing yourself? You’re beautiful, sweets.”

“Well, not as beautiful as Hana. Like, I have the same jacket! And I don’t look like her when I wear it! I look like some middle schooler trying to be cool. She’s so effortless,” you pout as you throw your hands up with frustration.

Jaehyun chuckles deeply, cupping your cheeks and leaning forward until his lips are on yours. A simple peck. One, two, three, four… countless pecks against your lips until you become a soft, pouty mess in his hands. “Her hair is mostly extensions,” Jaehyun states simply.

“Huh?” You ask with a furrow your brows.

“Well, you keep talking about her perfect hair and it’s not even fully hers. Her clothes aren’t hers, it’s her older sister’s and she and I are distant friends, acquaintances if that.”

“Come on, Jae! Be a girl's girl, don't shame her for that. It doesn't mean she looks any less pretty. Plus, people go from friends to lovers all the time! Or even exes to lov-”

Jaehyun places his hand over your mouth, “Hana and I broke up because she left me for her neighbor… who was a girl. She and I were together from the beginning of high school and right up until the very beginning of our last year. I call it love because it felt like love at the time. Maybe looking back now it was more like infatuation. I do not, have never planned on, don't plan on, haven't even thought about taking her back since she came out to me."

Your face flushes hot with embarrassment as he finally drops his hand, placing the softest kiss against the tip of your nose, "I like you, sweets. I like you a whole lot. Beyond the fact that I'm not her type anymore, she and I were never going to work out in the end. That break up led me to you, so I can't even be mad about it. You're amazing, kind, beautiful, sweet, and smart. What else could a guy want? Are you feeling better now?"

You pout at him, still feeling embarrassed by your fit, "yeah, I guess."

He chuckles, leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss against your pouty lips, "do you think some ice cream would fix it all right up?"

"Maybe if I called Haechan and he hyped me up I'd feel better," you joke, batting your eyelashes up at Jaehyun.

"Not fucking happening, sweets. Let's get you some ice cream."

[jjkamochoso]

hii im so glad your requests are open, ive had this idea for a while and couldnt wait until you opened them

since you wrote about both jjk men and reader describing their type my idea is that maybe before reader and jjk men got together reader had to describe their type and reader described something totally different from jjk men lol (maybe it was before they even became friends) and men find out and get insecure so reader has to comfort them

Oh my gosh I love this!!! Thanks for sending this request in, I had an awesome time writing it!! I hope you enjoy🫶❤️

JJK Men When Your Type Was Something Totally Different From Them

Very Light Angst, Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

You and your boyfriend were sitting at a table in a cafe one day, enjoying drinks and each other’s company, when all of a sudden the serene atmosphere was shattered.

“Oh my god! Y/n, it’s been so long!”

A friend you hadn’t seen in a few years greeted you excitedly as you invited them to sit at your table.

“I can’t stay long, I have an appointment to get to,” they said as they eyed your boyfriend and smirked. “Who’s this?”

You introduced your friend to your boyfriend and they exchanged pleasantries. You and your friend then caught up for a bit until they checked the time on their phone.

“Seriously, two look really cute together,” your friend said, giving you a tight hug goodbye as they readied to take their leave. “Although, y/n, isn’t it funny how your type changed? I remember you told me awhile ago, when you were single, that you were into…”

Yuji:

“…super tall guys with black hair. Real dark, mysterious types.”

After your friend had left the cafe, Yuji was sporting a frown where a smile usually rested.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he replied, pushing the food around his plate with his spoon.

“You’re not very convincing, Itadori,” you teased, poking his arm softly.

“Do you think I’m cute?” he blurted out, taking you by surprise.

“Of course I do,” you responded, dumbfounded. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Your friend,” he said, “they said your type is the total opposite of me.”

“Yuji, the last time I talked to them was three years ago. I hadn’t met you yet.”

Yuji looked up from his food, his face immediately brightened. “Really? Does that mean you’ve changed your mind since then? Because of me?”

“Yep, the only type I have is my fun loving, big hearted boyfriend Yuji Itadori, I promise,” you told him, leaving a kiss on his grinning cheek.

Megumi:

“…carefree boys with light colored hair and eyes.”

When your friend had gone and it was just you and Megumi again at your table, you noticed a change in his mood.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No," Megumi replied sharply, causing your extending hand to retreat back to your side of the table, not wanting to bother him. He sighed. "I just... why are you with me?"

Your eyebrows raised in shock. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm not affectionate, I don't know what I'm doing in a relationship. I'm not even your type." He whispered the last sentence, his eyes burning a hole through his coffee mug.

"Oh Megumi, ignore my friend. The last time I've brought up anything with them that had to do with crushes or "types" was years ago, long before I laid eyes on you. I love you because you're you and I wouldn't want you any other way."

"I guess I could try being more carefree if you want," he mumbled, his cheeks turning a pale pink.

"I could sooner see you bleaching your hair," you replied, laughing softly as Megumi sent an annoyed look your way.

Yuta:

“…overly confident boys with blonde hair."

"Geez, I guess I'm not your type at all, then, huh?" Yuta wondered when your friend was out of sight, anxiously picking at his jacket sleeve.

"You weren't my type three years ago when I talked to my friend last, no," you replied, not wanting to lie to him, "but that doesn't matter. You're absolutely my type now. I don't think there's a boy more handsome or perfect for me than you are."

Yuta's face sported a red tint from him blushing at your words. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do, my love," you said, leaning over the table and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, leaving him more flustered still.

Inumaki:

“…guys who were super talkative and tall.”

Right as your friend left your table, you watched as Toge pulled his phone out.

"Let me stop you right there," you said, gently guiding the phone from his hands to the table, spying the dreaded, "I'm sorry I can't talk to you, you deserve more" note you knew he had already started typing. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't want you to ever forget that. What my friend said, that was my type years ago, way before I knew a guy like you existed. I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend than you."

Toge blinked slowly at you before picking his phone back up.

"You better be erasing that original message because you know I don't care that you can't really speak," you said sternly, earning a meek thumbs up from the boy sitting across from you. When he passed his phone back over to you, you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your throat as you read what he wrote.

While we're out, should I buy a pair of high heels?

Noritoshi:

“…extremely tall, tan, and muscular men.”

“Great. That sounds just like Todo,” grumbled Noritoshi after your friend left, taking a sip of his tea.

“I didn’t even know him back then,” you replied, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes at his jealousy. “Sure, I had a type, but that doesn’t mean I have to stick with it. You’re the most handsome man I know and you look nothing like that.”

“Do you promise I look nothing like Todo?” questioned Noritoshi, stifling a laugh.

“I swear.”

He gave you a gentle squeeze of your hand. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Todo:

“…skinny, short, pale guys.”

"That's definitely not what you said when I asked your type," Aoi said, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"I can't believe my friend brought that up," you groaned. "Back then, yeah, I was into super thin guys, but that all changed a few years later, right before I met you."

"Are you sure all my muscles don't bother you?" he teased, flexing his arm as he reached across the table to caress your cheek.

Your face warmed at his gesture. "I'm sure," you choked out, "but I wouldn't be opposed to you showing off your arms more often just so I can be 100% positive."

Aoi let out a hearty laugh as you sank further into your seat, flustered by your handsome boyfriend.

Ino:

“…super buff guys with dark hair.”

Ino kept his focus on his drink for a long time after your friend had spilled those details about you, obviously bothered that he looked nothing like that.

"Hey," you said after agonizing minutes of silence, "please don't take that to heart, that was my type a long time ago."

Ino looked up at you with an expression akin to a kicked puppy. "But has it changed? If I'm not your type... why would you want to be with me?"

"Ino," you said, standing up from your side of the booth and sliding into his, "I wouldn't date you if I didn't find you handsome. You are so kind and loving, and I think you're the absolute hottest guy on the planet. Maybe even the universe."

He dramatically pulled his beanie over his face as he dropped his head into his hands. "Now I have to compete with dark haired, shredded aliens?!"

Consoling him took much longer than anticipated!

Gojo:

“…quiet, short guys with facial hair.”

Satoru couldn't hold back his reaction when he heard that.

"That's your type?" he asked, shaking with laughter. "What the hell are you doing with me, then?"

"Satoru, stop," you pleaded, clearly embarrassed. "The last time I saw that friend was years ago. I was a whole different person."

"Do you not find me pretty?" he pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes.

"You're the prettiest man I've ever had the privilege to meet," you responded, playfully tapping his nose with your finger. "It would be interesting to see you with a mustache or something though."

You both got quiet, imagining what Satoru would look like with facial hair.

"Sorry I ever brought that up," you said.

"Blegh!" he replied, sticking his tongue out. "You owe me another pastry later because I lost my appetite picturing that."

Geto:

“…men with light hair and soft facial features.”

Your friend had walked away, leaving Suguru to mull over their words.

"Am I too... sharp for you, darling?" he asked, trying to joke but was clearly affected.

"That was my type forever ago, Suguru," you told him, earnestly taking hold of his hand that was resting on the tabletop. "You've been the only man for me ever since I met you. No one can compare to your beauty."

"Hmm," he mused, taking a slow sip of his drink, "I must say I enjoy hearing you praise me in such a way. All is forgiven."

"Good. I will love only you for the rest of my days, no matter how many round faced, blonde haired men try to whisk me away."

You witnessed his fingers tighten around the tea cup in his grasp. "I'd like to see them try."

Nanami:

“…men with long, dark hair and blue eyes.”

You paid no mind to your friend's words, knowing they were just reminiscing over something silly before they left. Kento, on the other hand, was busy spiraling as he ate his croissant.

"Everything okay?" you asked him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes.

“Do you not… find me attractive?”

You almost spit out your drink in shock. "I'm sorry?"

He wore a sheepish expression. "Your friend said that your type was men with long, dark hair and blue eyes. I don't fit that description at all."

"My "type" that they brought up was from many, many years ago," you said, rubbing your thumb against his hand to console him. "The only thing I find attractive now, after having met you, is a certain Kento Nanami. Brown eyes, short blonde hair, and all."

"I'm sorry for getting worked up over nothing," he said.

"You don't have to apologize for that," you told him, "it just shows how much you truly care. I love you for that."

You gave him a small peck on the lips before you two went back to savoring your time together.

Choso:

“…super preppy guys with blonde hair and green eyes.��

The only thing that ran through Choso's mind was confusion.

"I don't look anything like that," he uttered suddenly, tilting his head.

"I know, I was into those kinds of guys years ago," you confessed.

"But not anymore?" he asked with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

"Not anymore," you confirmed, sending him a small smile to ease his nerves that were noticeably running rampant at the thought that you didn't find him attractive. "My type now is guys with dark hair in two buns and an adorable black mark across their nose."

Choso let out a relieved sigh as you giggled and continued eating your food.

Toji:

“…short men with long blonde hair.”

As soon as your friend got up from the table, Toji had a disgruntled expression on his face. "Care to add anything to that?"

"I liked guys who looked like that when I talked to my friend last, which was, admittedly, a very long time ago," you explained, getting a grunt of displeasure in response. "And then I met you and I realized what my actual type was."

"And what's that?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

You leaned in over the table, getting as close as you could to your handsome boyfriend.

"A real man," you all but whispered, eyeing him playfully. Toji's eyes widened ever so slightly before falling back into place, his lips transforming to a smirk.

"Sounds like your friend had it all wrong, then," he replied, winking at you.

[kazutteoks]

GO FOR IT! 𝜗𝜚 ; masterlist

the one were heeseung and you have been rivals since you started hogwarts, and only takes one event that will turn your world upside down to realize what heeseung's presence in your life truly means for you. you have to do something! you just have to go for it!

pairing: ravenclaw prefect!lee heeseung x ravenclaw prefect f!reader

content: harry potter au , social media au , written parts , rivals to friends to lovers , bickering , friendly rivalry , (something i consider)humor , a tiny bit of angst (school pressure, expectations, fear of failure, yk typical of ravenclaws) , drama lots of drama , peeves mentioned (a lot) , heeseung is a great emotional support , reader is called snow for funsies , reader last name is ashbourne , heeseung is down bad but he knows how to hide it very well , tbh it's just heeseung and reader babysitting the ravenclaws and their friends while preparing to be head boy and head girl of hogwarts , but actually there's a plot , eventually reader is so down bad (as she should) , he fell first but she fell painfully harder , and that's it, that's all.

featuring: the rest of enhypen, bts jungkook and taehyung, nct 127 doyoung, johnny and yuta, ateez seonghwa, yunho, yeosang and san, njz hyein, boynextdoor taesan, txt soobin, p1harmony keeho, zerobaseone gyuvin, hanbin and yujin, riize anton, ive wonyoung, aespa karina, illit yunah and wonhee.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ - read more undercut! ˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ ₊

warnings: this is the beginning of a series i've decided to call enh-ogwarts (so original i love myself sm /pat pat), timestamps and dates are not relevant so please ignore it, minecraft references cz ima freak, lots of harry potter world references, lots of swearing, mention of insecurities, anxiety, self-sabotaging thoughts, kms/kys jokes, threat jokes(?, daddy issues jokes idk, modern hogwarts, nothing has really sense i swear it's not that deep believe me (😔🙏🏻), english is NOT my first language, I'm still learning, please excuse any mistakes or nonsenses! lmk if i miss something!

updates: monday , thursday , saturday

start date: 2025/04/19

end date: tba!

༺ ⚝ ; taglist is open!

a/n: lately i've been reading a lot of enhypen hp!au, and after rewatching the harry potter saga last week i really needed to make my own, hope everyone likes my little baby.💗

PROFILES:

0A. purebloods and daddy issues

0B. hogwarts boyband

0C. ravenclaw coven

0D. sides

CHAPTERS:

1. yuta's favourite student

2. i am a supporter

3. you can laugh, but you will cry

4. you were what

4.1 the sleeping charm incident

5. first hw with....

6. oh...

7. you two need to talk

8. coven meeting

9. kicking my feet, twirling my hair

10. come get your brat kid

11. pookie is missing

12. and the drama begins

12.1 worry about it later

13. winter break is over

14. idk what's wrong with me

15. you just have to believe in yourself

16. calm before the storm

17. you think?

18. year is over and we're still the same (1.09k wc)

19. literally flabbergasted

20. the storm (0.5k wc)

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

mtba!

❗ this is a work of mere fiction, the characters attitudes do not reflect at all the artist's personality here mentioned

© kazutteoks 2025.

[ianyoa]

SOMETHING SUPER SWEET

jjk men x baker f!reader wc: 757 featuring: satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, choso kamo, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, yuta okkotsu.

summary ; jjk men headcannons with a baker girlfriend !

Satoru Gojo LOVES the fact that you can bake. Coming back to a sweet treat is like a dream come true. If you’re having insecurities about trying something new out, he’s the first to reassure you that it’s already perfect on the first go. He loves watching you bake when there’s downtime. Whenever you’re distracted he likes to dip his finger into the batter and have an early taste… which leads into a spoonful, then another, and another. Next thing you know, you’re giving Satoru a slice of cake while he’s in bed with a stomach ache because he insists he’s TOTALLY fine and doesn’t want it to go to waste. 

Suguru Geto claims to be indifferent. He comes over and sees a brownie, he’ll only eat it because “you made them.” Truth is, he loves them so, so much. After a full day of having to take in awful curses, there’s nothing better than having something delicate that his sweet girlfriend made. Maybe one day he’ll vocally express his love for them, but you already tell how much he enjoys them by the look in his eyes when he comes back to the smell. 

Nanami Kento, being the man he is, helps you. He loves coming back to see you midway through baking. Doesn’t matter if he’s tired, he’ll wash his hands and jump right in with you. He loves it when you make bread together. It’s perfect for him to pack it up for his lunch the next day. He doesn’t lean towards sweets, maybe having a bite or two and leaving the rest for you. But the second you make croissants, muffins, biscuits, you name it.. he’s thinking about the perfect time to propose. 

Choso Kamo is amazed. Seriously, like.. how is this possible? He gets a little nervous whenever you tell him to join you, he just doesn’t want to screw up since you always do it perfectly. Choso ends up enjoying it a lot! He gets happy whenever it starts forming together. One thing he loves doing, decorating the cookies after. You give him a couple of piping bags with different icings and a tray of sprinkles and he’s sitting there for who knows how long trying to make it look perfect for you. He loves watching you bake, not just staring at the dough as you make it from nothing to something, but the look on your face once it’s complete and you’re satisfied.

Yuji Itadori takes pride in having a girlfriend who can bake. Every time you make something, you’ll always have to make extras so he can take it for his friends. Gives them to others with the biggest smile on his face saying that you were the one who made them. He’s quite literally your number-one fan. Encourages you to open some sort of shop, even if you claim it’s just a hobby, so he can pass on the delight of these sweets to others. Everyone has to know what a real dessert tastes like! But you always have to make sure that there’s plenty left for him.

Megumi Fushiguro doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t go out of his way to ask for anything but if you offer, sure he’ll take some. As long as it’s not anything insanely sweet, he quite enjoys it. Loves it when you make something with dark chocolate though. He drinks black coffee of course he wouldn’t mind some dark chocolate cookies or something simple like a fruit coated in dark chocolate. Whenever you do manage to get him to eat something a little more on the sweeter side, he never complains. It’s something that you made. He claims to never say anything against it because that would be rude but really, it’s the only sweet thing he’ll ever fully enjoy without complaining. 

Yuta Okkotsu enjoys making sweets for you! It started when one day you gave him a cupcake as a treat for the stress that he’s endured, then the next day he gives you a 2 tiered cake. This man will always give you something in return. Sure he might’ve never considered the idea of baking but once you two started dating and he saw how much you enjoyed it, he started practicing so one day you two can do it together. It slowly became normal for you two to make each other something every once in a while. Sure his baking might be really good, but he claims that he’ll never reach your level. There’s something about your sweets that makes his day instantly better.

⁺ ﹒ ˚ ₊ ‧꒰ა ﹒ ✦﹒ ໒꒱ ‧ ₊ ˚ ﹒ ⁺

notes ; i wrote this because i was watching a baking show LMAOO

[sonotpattismith]

composing a burlesque

pairing: yuta okkotsu x burlesque!reader word count: 10.2k inspired by: nearly witches by panic! at the disco content: burlesque reader, angst, sexual assault, violence, yuta being a little insane, smut, 18+

There was a time when exorcizing curses provided a rush of dopamine to Yuta Okkotsu’s brain unlike any other drug that would ever come to graze his calloused hands. The action was filled with purpose— it made him ooze a certain confidence that felt damn near orgasmic. Being a special grade, being sent off on missions others were deemed incapable of completing themselves, it was all euphoric for the once insecure and helpless boy. 

Yuta had been in the business for years now though, and he wasn’t sure the last time his job felt that addicting. Perhaps in the heat of all that he had fought through, the sorcerer failed to ever acknowledge when he was in his prime. Now though, as he swung his katana over his shoulder and gazed haphazardly at the mission synopsis before him, all he felt was the grueling realization that he had been tumbling down that hill of his supposed peak for quite some time now. 

He longed for it though, the type of purpose he could sink his teeth into and feel the pressure of it achingly caress his gums. With his well surpassing all his peers, at what point did his original purpose for building himself up get lost in the rubble of all his past successes? Perhaps it was the validation of it all that only tasted so nice when it was those he desperately had something to prove to. 

So, the special grade would take every mission thrown his way. Hell, he would even go as far as to seek out especially perilous ones just for a hint of that rush he used to get. It wasn’t a difficult feat, given the fact that the higher ups always found his efforts better suited to higher grade missions anyway. This was why, as Yuta stared up at the red, LED lights flashing down at him from what appeared to be a gentlemen’s club, he wasn’t sure where his skills fit in here. 

The lit up, archway entrance had a mysterious way of luring him in while simultaneously warning him that Yuta Okkotsu was way out of his element here. He could hear the sultry music that was playing inside reverberating on the ground beneath his feet, penetrating deep into the already uncertain depths of his chest. The sorcerer hadn’t even been aware that such places existed anymore, much less that they still drew in such a crowd, judging by the boisterous chatter that also escaped the tantalizing walls of the club. Of course, these types of… establishments were never really his scene. 

Gulping down his nerves, he was more anxious about the human proclivities that would be awaiting him on the other side rather than whatever curse he was sent to deal with. Despite this apprehension, he followed the gold, bulb lights that lead the way to the heavy, double doors. Upon pushing in, the alluring music seemed to increase tenfold, and he could feel the vibrations of the drunken club-goer’s conversations in his chest. 

His breath left him momentarily as he took in the sights before him. There were very obvious, overwhelmingly strong tendrils of cursed energy that seemed to waft from the very back of the establishment, and he assumed that’s where he should be headed to find what he’d come here for— perhaps he would have had it not been for the fact that he was completely enamoured by the dominating presences on the main stage. 

At present, there were three women on the stage, each doused head to toe in delicately intimate costumes. They oozed artistry and professionalism with each pointed kick and calculated sway of their hips. The men that surrounded the stage must have felt it too, what with the way each of them was glued to performance, eyes unsure where to focus at any given moment. 

Yuta watched as they smirked and hollered over at each other, depraved thoughts that should never have been conjured in the first place let alone spoken aloud being tossed around the room nonchalantly. Of course, the sorcerer wasn’t blind, the beauty that emanated from each woman on the stage wasn’t lost on him, but he couldn’t help but be thrilled by the artistry alone. 

“First time?” 

He was pulled from his gobsmacked trance by a saccharine voice, so sweet and sultry in its delivery that he determined that it just had to have been rehearsed. Spinning around so abruptly, Yuta knocked into the tray of drinks balanced on your gloved, manicured hand. It tipped to the side unceremoniously, and he was jolting forward with an expert reflex to catch it before it fell. 

“Oh!” He gaped frantically, anxiety ridden hands shooting up to steady the martini glasses as their contents began to splash onto you. The awkward man before you seemed to work with such swiftness and tact that you were sure you missed all of what had happened in the second you took to blink. “I— Gah! I’m such a clutz. I’m sorry, Miss—”

“So, yes for first timer?” You teased with an impressed gaze, taking note of the now perfectly balanced glasses on your tray. Carefully shifting the tray in your arms, your free hand reached up to swipe the drops of spilled alcohol from your chest. 

Yuta, finally looking up from the glasses, followed the motion with bated breath. You donned a similar costume to the ones on the performers, a shimmering gold bodysuit that clung sinfully to your every curve, reaching high on your hips and exposing the skin of your fishnet laced thighs. Your red-manicured fingers dipped onto the plush pillows of your chest that were exaggerated by the tightness of your bodice, gathering up the wetness that lingered before returning your casual grip on the tray. 

His heart was beating up higher and higher until he felt its mocking rhythm in his throat, and his wide eyes drifted from your glistening chest, up your neck until they met the intricately painted face attached. The response he meant to give strained to come out as he stared into your shadow-lined eyes with dramatic lashes fluttering up to meet his gaze, and whatever he meant to say came embarrassingly out as a cross between a hum and a grunt. Your red-painted lips curved up in amusement, an expression that reminded him of just how pathetically he was behaving. It was hardly within his ability to care though, not when your smile revealed itself to be the best bit you had seemingly saved for last.

“Am I—” Yuta stammered, desperate to take back any semblance of dignity in this painful interaction. When your brow quirked up, he laughed nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Just a lucky guess.” You winked, looking behind him to the stage he had been staring at. “They’re pretty good, huh?” 

“Huh? Oh! Y-Yeah, it’s incredible.” He gushed honestly, stealing another glance at their seamless choreography before turning back to you. “Um… You don’t— uh, dance?”

“I do.” You smiled sweetly at his anxious disposition, picking up one of the glasses to hand to him. “Just not today.”

He stared at the glass for a beat too long, the dark, red lighting in the room illuminating off of the prominent whites of his blown out eyes. After another second, his midnight eyes fluttered back up at you, and he offered a wobbly smile. 

“O-Oh, I didn’t order anything.”

“On the house.” You offered nonchalantly, bending over just a bit to hand out the drinks to the couch of men awaiting their orders. 

Yuta wished he could be a better man in that moment, for he knew his gaze lingered too long on the arch in your back as you flirted casually with the customers. One particularly burly man had cash pressed between his fingers, fully prepared to tuck it into your pronounced cleavage. It was evident then though that you had been in this game too long, and you snatched it smoothly between your shiny, red nails before tutting at the man in playful disapproval. 

As you straightened back up to return to the anxious boy behind you, you gave a mockingly exasperated expression.  The subtle attention made his chest burn, and had it not been for the lighting, he was sure you would have caught the way it spread up to his neck and cheeks. Nonetheless, he smiled shyly back at you, taking a swig from the drink you’d given him in an attempt to cool himself down. The bitter liquid splashed against his unsuspecting tongue, and he had to fix his face in record timing lest he embarrass himself again. 

“Not your poison?” You laughed softly while brushing past him to head back to the bar. His white sneakers squeaked against the floor as he stumbled after you. “I figured you’d need a little liquid courage before dealing with whatever the hell haunts this place.”

His expression fell a bit in surprise at your words. Now behind the bar, you peered back at his dumbstruck expression. 

“How did you know that’s what I was here for?”

Leaning forward, you tugged gently on the swirled, yellow button on his chest, making him pull forward toward you just a hair. 

“Not the first yellow button I’ve seen come through here to take that thing out.” You whispered lowly, and had he not been so close, he wouldn’t have heard you over the rowdy crowd and blaring music. Your confession made his brows furrow. 

“No one’s been able to exorcise it?” 

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it?” You laughed, finally letting go of your grip on his shirt to lean your hands against the cool, glass counter. “Well, I heard that’s why they sent you. Rumor has it you’re stronger than the rest of them. Is that true…?”

“Okkotsu.” He introduced as you trailed off in question, holding his posture just a bit higher at your praise. “I’m Yuta Okkotsu.”

You smiled again, your pearly whites glittering under the neon lights. With a tilt of your head, your pristinely styled curls shifted enough to waft the scent of your shampoo straight toward his face. With Yuta’s luck, it wouldn’t be the martini in his hand that got him drunk on the job. 

“Well, Yuta Okkotsu— are you? Stronger than the rest?”

Your questioning of his talents assured that Yuta didn’t need any alcohol to charge into the back of that club to prove himself to you that night. It wasn’t as if he ever needed any encouragement before, the sorcerer had become more than confident in his abilities over the years, and he knew there was little to nothing that could rival his techniques. Still, it had been a while since he had felt so driven to tear something apart just for the sake of saying he could.

You had informed him that the thing (as you had called it) resided in the boss’s office, and that it never left. Yuta had questioned where the man in question was, but he was informed that he wouldn’t come in until the curse was taken care of. The faintest of red flags waved in the sorcerer’s mind at the thought of the owner of this establishment jumping ship yet still expecting the women to keep it afloat, putting themselves in dangers he wasn’t man enough to face himself. 

He insisted that he didn’t need you to show him where the office was— he could feel it. It was spilling under the cracks of the door, filling his senses with that familiar dread that kicked on his fight or flight everytime. It had been ages since he had the privileged choice of flight though. With the key you’d given him, his nimble fingers worked to unlock the ominous barrier. It creaked open, and, before anything else, a waft of sickeningly sweet perfume wafted into his consciousness. Reaching out blindly, he felt for the light switch before flipping it on. 

A dull light flickered on, flooding the once pitch black room. His eyes met those of the curse almost immediately. Yuta Okkotsu had seen the most grotesque of ghouls and curses in his few years as a jujutsu sorcerer, ones that made the strongest of men flinch back in fear, but he was sure, as he gaped back at this one, that he had never laid eyes on one that made his stomach churn so uneasily. It wasn’t large, or loud— hell, he wasn’t even sure it could be categorized as a grade two. Still, there was something so deeply disquieting about its vacant stare and the whines that left its mangled mouth.

It didn’t move to attack him, it didn’t leave its spot on the worn-down, yellowing couch on the far wall of the office. It laid sprawled out, its limbs almost longer than the furniture itself. Its complexion was pale, but its face was painted dramatically with deep, burgundy rouge as what appeared to be drool dripped out its torn and welted lips, smearing the ruby paint that lined them. 

Yuta’s wide eyes blinked down at it; once, then twice. It mimicked his motions, a tear dropping from its oddly protruding eyes on the second blink. Even as he slowly approached it, unsheathing the katana from his bag, the curse made no move to defend itself. It made his movements falter— they needed a special grade sorcerer for this thing? Gulping down the brimming feeling of nausea, he uncharacteristically turned his cheek as he plunged his katana into its chest, unable to face the demise he was inflicting on it. 

The air in the club was notably lighter as he made his way back out to the main area. From the archway, he could see the new set of dancers on the stage performing a different number. Some of them glanced his way as he sauntered out from the back, but most of them paid him no mind. 

As his haunting eyes sweeped over the crowd of people in search of you, almost instantly spotting you leaned against one of the couches with that performatively provocative smile on your plush lips, he felt that familiar rush of adrenaline flood his system. It almost made him forget about the unease of exorcising the curse he’d come here for, and he pushed through the crowd, shouldering at horny men carelessly in his pursuit. The proximity between you was slowly waning, and it made some of his previous confidence fly out the window. 

Your hand brushed teasingly over the shoulders of the customer you were currently buttering up, and it made Yuta’s chest burn with the fiery hope that it was just the artistry of it all. Still, his logical mind must have abandoned him in favor of something more primal, as he pushed past his doubt to make his way to you. The sorcerer, practically buzzing with a high unlike any other, wasn’t sure what he planned to do when he reached you, but he wouldn’t find out because you turned to face him just as he opened his mouth. 

“Wrapped it up already?” You quipped, a knowing smile playing on your lips. In your eyes though, there was an underlying darkness that he couldn’t quite place. Nonetheless, he followed beside you this time as you made your way back to the bar. 

“All clear, Miss.” Yuta confirmed, feeling almost lightheaded as he awaited your reaction, but you only hummed in response. He huffed out a nervous laugh, watching you distract yourself behind the counter. The blues of his eyes darted about incredulously. “You sound like you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant, sweetheart.” You peered up at him through your heavy false lashes with a slight tilt of your head. The exasperated furrow of his brow was almost endearing, but it wasn’t your intention to step on his ego. “I’m sure you got rid of it for now— just like the five that came before you did.” 

“The five…” His bewildered tone trailed off as your words sunk in. Whether unconscious or not, he leaned in closer to you. “What do you mean for now?”

A soft sigh had your pristine posture falling a bit. It had begun feeling like whatever organization these people were coming from were simply throwing shit at a wall and waiting to see what stuck. After the third attempt though, you had started to lose that spark of hope that lit up each time you’d see one of those familiar, yellow buttons. 

“Well, it usually goes like this—” Yuta’s breath hitched ever so slightly as your stiletto-clad foot pulled the stool beside him closer, now a mere inches away as you sat down gracefully. With an elbow rested casually on the bar, your long, fish-netted leg shifted, brushing against his as you folded it over your thigh. “A bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit comes in here, all high and mighty that they’re going to take care of everything for us.” 

As you recounted, your finger trailed absetmindedly up his arm, making his shoulders tense in anticipation. 

“And you do. You do whatever the hell is you do, and you leave. Everything is fine for a while.” Your fingers squeezed at his bicep teasingly, and you couldn’t help but be a bit surprised at the firmness that seemed to be hiding under his baggy, white shirt. 

Continuing your exploration, you could feel the heat of his blush under your fingers as you trailed up his neck, grazing your nails against his nape. Yuta’s lips parted, leaning his head back unconsciously against your delicate touch. His eagerness made you smile softly— it was almost second nature to tease him, and you wondered when the last time a man so green walked through the doors of this place. 

“And what then?” He breathed out, trying with everything in him to keep his concentration on the conversation at hand. 

Your hand curled around his nape, and you pulled him in closer to you. The abrupt motion had his hand shooting forward, steadying himself with a clammy hand against your thigh lest he fall face first into your chest. 

“And she always comes back.” You whispered, almost losing yourself in the way he stared up at you with those hauntingly wide eyes.

“S-She?”

You nodded softly.

“She, it, the thing. Whatever you people call them. It comes back everytime.”

At your explanation, Yuta forced himself to pull back a bit from your grasp in an attempt to collect himself. With furrowed brows, he shook his head in disbelief. You quirked a brow at this motion, as if both offended and amused that he didn’t believe you. 

“Sorry,” He chuckled nervously, your words still ringing in his head. Never in his years as a sorcerer had he come across a recurring curse. Sure, new ones would arise; usually different in appearance, strength, location, but never the same curse repeatedly. “I’ve just never heard of anything like that, is all.”

“Tell you what,” You countered, your hand finally falling from its gentle caress in his hair and allowing him to think a bit straighter. “Give it two weeks, come back here, and see it for yourself. Make sure it’s a Friday.”

 In truth, he still highly doubted that the curse would come back, but he wasn’t about to pass up on an excuse to come back here and see you again. So, he nodded slowly in agreement, biting back the anticipation that rose in his stomach at the idea that this wouldn’t be your last interaction. 

“Why Friday?” He questioned suddenly, just now processing your request. 

The sly smile that creeped onto your lips almost had him falling to the floor like puddy, the sight sparking an incandescent warmth in his chest that set every nerve in his body ablaze. Sinful. It was the only word Yuta could think to describe the way you looked at him. Maybe it was how you looked at all the men that came in here— it was your job to make them feel wanted, after all. Still, that little spark in your glowing irises did such intricate work in making sure he felt like the only one. 

Leaning in closer to him, you reached up to brush a tuft of his dark hair behind his ear before grazing your lips against its sensitive shell. The hand that had found your thigh to support him squeezed gently at the sensation, fat mushing between his fingers deliciously.

“I always dance on Fridays, Okkotsu.”

Yuta spent the following two weeks in an all-consuming rut, thoughts smoked over by the smell of your perfume and the sensation of your fingertips trailing up his neck. Perhaps he should have given more thought, paid any mind at all to your claims that no one had been able to fully exorcise that strange curse in months, and maybe he would have had he not still been able to feel the plush of your thighs against his fingers. 

In addition to that, his befuddled mind wouldn’t even process the fact that you had invited him back to assure the job was done. No, because as he replayed the scenario in his mind each night, your lips whispered that they wanted to see him again— they wanted him to see you. Of course, it didn’t help that he had become so grossly confident in his cursed techniques. To Yuta, there was no way the thing would come back, not with how cleanly he’d sliced through it, not after he watched it disintegrate before his very eyes. 

So, when he walked through those familiar double doors two weeks later, running his fingers through his hair and straightening his posture to assure he looked the part, the wave of cursed energy that hit him nearly sent him falling onto his own, lovesick ass. Gone was the dreamy, far-off look in his eyes, and, in its place was a fierce confusion as he pushed past the typical group of men oogling women who were far too young for them. 

There was no way. 

He searched for you, unsure if it was to apologize for having brushed off your accusations so rashly, or simply because of the ache that had settled within his bones from the second he left two weeks prior. It felt like he was jumping out of his skin, rubbing at his neck and licking his dry lips incessantly, begging himself to get a grip. It didn’t help that he feared his strangely timed obsession was clouding his judgment on what might actually be going on in this place. 

There was an almost overstimulating ringing beginning to invade Yuta’s mind. His thoughts were scrambled with the sheer force of the energy permeating through the building, ideas fleeting in and out about what could possibly be lurking behind the shadows of this place. Shoulders of rowdy club-goers were pushing into him, only adding onto his state of unnerve with every shove. 

His senses were drawing him toward the back, but just as he began to push through the crowd, the lights of the club died out dramatically. At an almost cosmically slow rate, Yuta turned his head to face the stage that was now being lit up one by one by gold, fluorescent lights— all building up for the grand reveal that was you. 

You— Yuta gaped up at the stage— you with your crimson, glittering bodysuit that clung so sinfully to every curve of your body. You with your calculated sways and pointed, sensual kicks of your heeled feet. You with your sultry eyes that seemed to scan the crowd as you leaned over yourself, shining hair falling teasingly into your intricately painted face until you spotted him. Your brows popped up with a delighted smile, and you winked at the awestruck boy before snapping up in tandem with the beat to continue your choreography. 

The cursed energy continued to swirl around the sorcerer like dark tendrils, but the captivating sway of your hips was fighting for the dominance of his attention. Halfway into your number, he wasn’t sure if the burning that was seeping from his chest and down his stomach was due to the fight or flight instinct triggered by the energy or by the sheer heat that you seemed to shoot into him with each teasing glance over your shoulder to him. 

He seemed to have more depth than the other sorcerers that passed through here, you thought as the number was coming to a close. The others had a different aura to them, almost as if trying to fill shoes they had no business stepping into in the first place. Yuta Okkotsu though, with his tired eyes and messy hair, seemed so humble for a man his organization had deemed stronger than the rest. The bashful tint on his confounded face made you smile, throwing a wink over your shoulder at the crowd of forgotten watchers as you stepped off the stage. 

Yuta thought he might trip over his feet or start a bar fight, whichever came first as he stumbled through the crowd to follow the path you’d taken to the back. It was as though the lingering scent of your alluring perfume guided his trek, utterly indifferent to the people he was elbowing on the way. His once determined walk faltered as he read the ‘dressing room’ sign on the door before him. Tucking his bottom lip nervously between his teeth, he glanced around the vacant hallway before lifting a hesitant fist to knock.

“Come in!” Your muffled voice responded from the other side of the forbidden room. Okkotsu’s wide eyes blinked rapidly, and he bounced on his heels once, then twice, as if it would summon up any courage that might be hiding within his otherwise powerful body. With a final, anxious gulp, he resorted to covered his eyes with one large palm splayed across his face while the other pushed the door open. 

“Uh… sorry, I don’t mean to—”

“You can take a peek if you want, Okkotsu.” Your teasing voice filled his ears as he allowed his outstretched hand to guide his path. 

Yuta stopped dead in his tracks, mouth opening and closing unassuredly with twitching lips. A few unintelligible stammers left him before a soft hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand shielding his eyes and pulled it down. Squinting one eye open as if unprepared for what may be awaiting him, he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed to find you fully clothed before him. 

There was an amused smile illuminating your features, further emphasized by the bright lights on the mirror in front of you. You shook your head softly at him before continuing to take the countless pins from out of your hair. 

“I was only messing with you..” You laughed softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you prepared yourself to go help out with the bar the rest of the night. 

“Right.” Yuta forced a laugh, shifting from one foot to the other as he stood before you. It was silent for a beat too long while he surveyed your concentrated expression. You quirked a curious brow at him, and he seemed to snap into action. “Uh— y-you were incredible out there!”

Tucking your chin into your shoulder, you offered a bashful smile, fluttering your lashes dramatically at him. 

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. What you do— it’s art, really.” He continued to gush sincerely as you shook out your hair and stood. 

“I’m glad you liked it, Okkotsu.” There was a fondness in your breathy laugh as you turned your back to him. “So, did you come here just to give me feedback on my performance? Get the zipper for me, will ya’, sweetheart?”

“Oh!” Yuta stammered out, staring down at your expectant form. Willing himself to man the fuck up, he wiped his perspiring palms on his pants before grasping the zipper, placing his free hand shakily on your bare shoulder to steady his movement. He turned his head to the side as the little metal accessory slid down your bodice, grasping at straws to maintain his composure. “Uh, no. I-I actually wanted to talk to you about the curse.”

“Curse?” You questioned absentmindedly as you stepped out of the sturdy body-suit and reached for your silk robe. 

“The thing in the owner’s office.” He peeked around carefully just in time to catch you tying the smooth fabric around your waist. “It’s back.”

“Didn’t I tell you it would be?”

“Well, yes, but it just doesn’t—” 

“Help me!” A desperate voice tore into the conversation as the door flew open and smacked against the wall before shutting dramatically. Two girls in similar outfits to those you had just donned on the stage flooded into the dressing room, one of them sinking to their knees theatrically before you. 

Yuta stepped back in astonishment at the scene before him, suddenly feeling very much out of place— moreso than he already did. 

“I know you’ve shown me like a hundred times, but I can’t for the life of me keep my bangs up the way you did.” The frantic girl rambled, grasping at your hands and shoving what looked to be hairpins into your palm. “Please, can you please just fix them? I have to go up in like three minutes!”

The smile that graced your lips at the girl’s theatrics was different from the ones you’d previously shown Yuta, and all the other club-goers for that matter. It was softer, holding a fondness in it that your teasing smirks and sultry pouts couldn’t quite convey. Your freshly undone hair swayed as you shook your head affectionately at your fellow dancer before motioning her to sit with her back to you. 

“You girls are going to be the death of me.” You quipped, opening a hair clip with your teeth as you pinpointed her traitorous bangs. “What if I get sick one day? Hm? Your bangs will never be the same— and you’ll remember when I told you that you’d regret cutting them! I told her she would, you know.” 

You glanced up at the sorcerer with a humorous smirk before turning your attention back to her hair emergency.

“And who might you be, mister?” The other dancer that had accompanied on the ‘rescue mission’ drawled out with an airy giggle, looking down at her friend gleefully. 

“Girls, this is Yuta Okkotsu.” You introduced knowingly as you reached for the can of hairspray on your vanity. “He’s helping us out with some maintenance this week, so talk nice to him, hm?”

Both girls glanced knowingly at each other at the sound of ‘maintanence’. Yuta got the vibe suddenly that they were all very aware of what was going on in this club, no matter the efforts you seemed to have made to keep them in the dark. 

“Must be real strong then, huh?” The girl beside him estimated, wrapping her arms around his bicep. He felt his heart leap into his throat, his shoulders seeming to tense on their own accord. “How about a private dance— whaddya’ say, Yuta Okkotsu?” 

“Oh, that’s really not, uh—” His mind couldn’t seem to work fast enough to keep up with his anxiety as he watched the two girls glance at eachother with tickled smiles. It felt like he was back in highschool, feeling as though half of the time everyone was in on a joke he’d never be privy to. 

“They’re messing with you, Okkotsu.” You finally chided, giving the giggling girl in front of you a playful tap on the side of her head. His ever-pleading, midnight eyes shot up to meet you, and he was once again forcing a laugh. “We don’t do private dances around here.”

“And we can’t make an exception?” The hands around his arm tightened as the girl pouted dramatically at him. 

Your bubbly laugh filled the air around them again, and you could hardly get onto the vibrant girls for being so giddy around the sorcerer. It wasn’t often that young men came around here— attractive ones that is. Better yet, attractive ones with manners. You assumed that they, like you, couldn’t help but push the wide eyed recruit a bit upon sensing his jumpy personality. 

“Go on— you all have hungry customers waiting.” You joked, giving them both a playful tap on their rears as they stood. 

Twisting on their heels, they hooked arms as they gave the poor, stammering boy one last look over. 

“Let us know if you change your mind, Yuta Okkotsu.”

“You’ll know where to find us, handsome.”

Yuta could only wave silently at him, whatever cat that had his tongue seeming determined on keeping it far from him. Behind him, you snickered quietly. There was so much warmth you held in your heart for your fellow dancers— one that was clear even to Yuta himself even if only seeing it for a few minutes.

“You ladies are… really happy here, huh?”

“Of course we are.” You responded immediately, almost defensively. Truthfully though, the boy didn’t mean it in any sort of way. You had been a dancer long enough though to know what others thought about the way you all chose to express yourself artistically. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well, I only meant—” Yuta paused, looking down at the stray hair pin hiding within your locks. He hesitated once before carefully reaching out to pluck it gently from your hair. You seemed to have been caught off guard by his tender actions, the typical bravado front you donned falling into a soft expression. Smiling apologetically at you, he muttered something about forgetting one before placing it on your vanity and continuing. “Curses; they usually manifest in areas where negative emotions are common. With this one reoccurring, I just thought…”

His explanation made you snap from your stupor. You looked up at him inquisitively. The slight urgency in your posture made him tilt his head in question. Leaning forward, Yuta had to seriously concentrate to keep his gaze respectfully on your face as the movement made your robe fall forward just a hair. 

“They… they come from negative emotions?” You questioned, searching his wide eyes as if he was lying to you. 

Reaching up, he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. 

“Um, yeah. They—”

Before he could finish, the door flew open once more, but this time no pretty, giggling women accompanied the abrupt entry. Instead, a short, burly man stumbled in with purpose. The irritated look on his perspiring face had Yuta moving almost instinctively to step in front of your indecent form. Had he been given the chance, the sorcerer would have asked the man if he’d stepped into the wrong room— given him a chance before assuming he was a rowdy club-goer perhaps pushing for a private dance that he’d already been made aware did not exist. Just as his fingers twitched to reach for his katana though, the man began blabbering. 

“You—” The man pointed over Yuta’s shoulder at you before stepping forward with little care. “We need you at the bar, the new girl is useless back there. And you—”

The man, who Yuta had now deduced must be the owner with the way he was speaking, jabbed a stubby finger into the center of his chest. The boy made no movement, staring firmly at the demanding man in assessment. It unsettled something deep within him, the way this man seemed so comfortable bursting through the door of the girls’ dressing room without so much of a warning knock. 

“You were supposed to be getting that shit outta my office— not sampling my dancers.” 

The use of the word sampling also didn’t sit quite right with him, but he was already being led out of the dressing room with a firm grasp on his shoulder. He whipped his head around to look at you, but you were only shaking your head in disdain, searching for your bodysuit. 

There was something, Yuta determined as he took the familiar path to the office, that was lurking in the walls of this place. Something wasn’t clicking, and he knew as he slayed the curse once more that evening that it wouldn’t be the last time. 

He found you later that evening as he was hesitantly making his way out and slipped you his phone number. You raised a brow at his forwardness, an expression that had his neck warming embarrassingly fast. 

“I-In case something happens.” He quickly explained as you folded up the small paper and tucked it into the chest of your bodice. “Just call me— I’ll come.” 

Little did he know, you had been sitting on your own assumptions since his explanation earlier in the dressing room. You weren’t sure though, as you looked around at the glittering faces of the women you’d practically taken in as your sisters, that you were ready to face the implications that explaining it to him would mean. This type of artistry, this industry wasn’t easy to build yourself up in, but you had all cultivated something so beautiful here. With everything in you, you were torn on what was the right step to take to protect it. 

Yuta Okkotsu, unaware of the internal battle your mind was raging, wasn’t expecting a call so soon. It had taken everything in him to quiet his thoughts long enough to slip into unconsciousness. His mind kept racing with possibilities— with the feeling that something was crawling under his skin, much like he assumed something was crawling through three very essence of that establishment. 

He thought of you and the look on your face when he’d explained how cursed manifested. He thought about what you may have revealed to him had your boss not interrupted. He thought about your boss— that man that seemed to have zero regard for the delicate position he was put into. Men who had that kind of power over women and liked it. 

Those kinds of assumptions would only drive him insane without any real basis for them— Yuta assured himself as he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. So, he thought of you instead; the way your silky skin felt under his finger tips, the way the sight of your genuine smile made his heart soar, only partially sour at the thought that it wasn’t one he’d caused. 

Of course they’re happy. 

It was what he told himself in hopes of getting any sleep that night. Just as his prayers had been answered though, and his mind drifted into a state that graced him with images of you and your torturously supple hips, his phone sliced through the first pleasant dream he’d had in ages. 

Sitting up with a jolt, Yuta felt almost unnecessarily violent toward the offending device. Grunting in frustration, he tossed his pillows about the room until his frantic hand gripped the vibrating phone. It was an unknown number, but that wasn’t an unusual sight for him. He often got calls regarding missions at ridiculous hours of the night— only adding onto his already abysmal sleep schedule and perpetually tired appearance. 

“Hello?” The exhausted man rasped out, rubbing at his eye roughly. 

“Okkotsu?” The voice that had just been lulling him to sleep via fleeting memories and desperate fantasy rang through the device. 

“Is everything okay?” Without a second thought, the once begrudged boy was swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Snatching the shirt that was hanging out the side of his drawer, he frantically shrugged it on. “What’s going on?”

“No— it’s fine, everything’s okay.” Your tone didn’t convince him, and he moved to shimmy into his pants. On the other line, you chewed apprehensively at your bottom lip, toying with the tie of your robe. Your throat felt like it had its own heartbeat. “I just— what you said before, about there usually being lots of negative energy where curses manifest…”

“If there’s something going on you need to tell me.” Yuta urged, his fingers gripping the phone a little tighter. 

“Say we get rid of the negative energy… would it stop?” 

“What do you need to get rid of?” His tone was almost desperate at this point, wanting so badly to have his endless questions answered. He was shoving his shoes haphazardly onto his feet before tossing his katana over his shoulder. “Whatever it is, I can take care of it. You just need to trust me.” 

Take care of it— his words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the uncertainty you’d be left with should he succeed. Looking over at the three dancers that had just rushed in, all huddled close and giggling plans about a choreography they had been working on, the confidence you had when you dialed his number seemed to dissipate. Your shoulders dropped, and you shook your head. 

“Nothing, just… curiosity I guess.” You attempted a laugh, though it sounded bitter falling from your lips. 

“It would stop.” Yuta finally assured in hopes of getting through to you. “If you got rid of the influx of negative energy— the curse would stop coming back.”

“Okkotsu—”

Your voice was cut off by the sound of the door opening, and he could hear your bosses muffled voice on the other end. It sounded as though he was calling for you, making the sorcerer curse with his poor timing.

“I’ve gotta go.” You dismissed dejectedly.

“Wait—” But the line was already beeping, indicating that you had ended the call. No sooner than it ended was Yuta shoving his phone into his pocket and making his way to you once again. 

When he arrived back at the now familiar club, they were clearly in the process of wrapping up for the night. There weren’t any performers on the stage, and there were only a few more patrons left, all huddled by the bar and finishing up their drinks. 

“Yuta Okkotsu!” One of the girls called out excitedly. He recognized her as the one with the bang crisis, and he managed a tight lipped smile at her, eyes darting around in search of you. “Change your mind already?”

“Oh, haha,” His laugh was forced and awkward, and the girl could tell. She smiled knowingly at him. “No I uh— have you seen—”

“She’s with the boss.” She explained, leaning down to collect a few empty glasses from the table. Her sharp eyes peered at him from her peripheral— almost in warning. “You can wait out here for her if ya want.” 

“It’s an emergency.” Yuta explained halfheartedly, already making his way toward the back hallway. The girl was calling out to him, but it seemed an indescribable force was keeping him moving. There was something, so clearly being displayed before him, but he couldn’t seem to place it. It made his skin crawl, an unbridled sense of doom looming in his chest. He couldn’t stand by— not when he knew in his heart that something wasn’t right, and not when he knew he could do something about it. 

As he pushed open the owner’s door however, he wasn’t prepared for the nature of his revelation. Your back was facing the door, those cascading locks of hair that he felt he could pick out of a crowd, knelt in front of the couch before you. That beautiful frame that had haunted Yuta’s dreams was positioned between the legs of your boss, his pants pooled around his knees. 

It was silent, as both you and the man you had in your mouth turned to face the intruder. Your eyes were wide, glossy, and fluttering around anxiously as you met the sorcerer’s gaze. There was no explaining your way out of the situation, a clear picture painted already. 

One of the man’s burly hands was tangled almost aggressively in your scalp, pulling at the roots in a manner that was pinching the skin of your face back ever so slightly. Tracks of tears painted your face— one that was for the first time bared to Yuta, free of the makeup and the glitter. In the absence of the art laid your raw fear, the humiliation, and regret. It was an expression so familiar, so haunting since the first time he’d seen it. It was the same one the curse wore before he exorcised it both times. 

Everything was clicking into place, but all Yuta could bring himself to do was blink slowly at the scene before him. The owner, already red in the face with sweat dripping down his temples, seemed aggravated at the intrusion.

“Get the hell—”

“Go.” Yuta demanded with an eerie calmness, his eyes directed at you. Your mouth open and closed, chest heaving with uncertainty. “Go and get all the customers out of here.” 

As if sensing the overwhelming waves of instability that seemed to be rolling off of the wide eyed boy, you could only stumble up, the hand that gripped your hair falling as Yuta took a threatening step forward. 

“Okkotsu—” Your frail attempt to stop him from whatever he might do was futile as he silently offered a hand to help you up, eyes still locked on the dumbfounded man sat on the couch.

“Go.” 

With a heaving chest, you took one last look at the two before rushing out. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The owner finally stammered out, working quickly to fasten his pants back up.

Yuta watched as the door shut behind him before slowly turning his gaze back to his target. 

“How many?” He questioned lowly. 

“The hell are you talking about?” 

“How many of these women have you taken advantage of?” His voice finally rose to match the fire burning within his bones. It wavered with the intensity of his fury, but not once did his stance falter. 

“Taken advantage of?” The boss tutted, standing up to grab a glass of scotch as though he hadn’t just been exposed as the true piece of scum he was. “You should have seen where half these girls came from. They all have it made here, so what if they all have to pay their dues every once and a while?” 

The sorcerer felt his fingers twitch in anticipation for his next move. His sanity felt as though it was ever so slowly slipping down the drain of his psyche, replaced by a carnal desire ringing from deep within him. 

“All of them?” It was more of a statement than a question as Yuta lunged forward to grip the man by the lapels of his suit. The glass of alcohol in his hands slipped with the sudden jostle, crashing against the floor by their feet. “How many are there?” 

“You’re picking a fight with the wrong guy, kid.” The man warned, though he didn’t know the half of what the seemingly lackluster boy before him was capable of. “Cut the hero bullshit. You were hired to get rid of the shit that was in my office. No need to get all holy on me.” 

“You’re the only shit around here that needs to be ridden of.” Faster than his own mind could even process, his fist had collided with the man’s nose. 

The sickening sound of skin pounding against flesh seemed to drown out the last bit of restraint Yuta had been hanging onto as he poured his energy into this scum’s demise. He thought about the curse that he’d exorcised in this very room, how she cried yet made no move to fight back. The man gurgled up spats of blood as Okkotsu’s knee lodged between his ribs, thoughts flooding his enraged mind of how powerless these women must have felt to have manifested a curse incapable of doing anything but accepting her fate. Yuta thought about you, about all the women just like you who were backed into a corner for the sake of their own artistry— their passion. 

“Pl-ease,” The man gasped out, grasping weakly at the hand Yuta still had curled around his suit. “I can give you anything. Connections, money, the girls— anything. Please don’t kill me.”

The girls. 

The thought made his stomach churn. Until his very end, he still only saw the very pillars of his success as items to be used.

“No,” Yuta breathed, an unnerving smile splitting across his since enraged face. “I won’t kill you. That’s not my job.”

The frantic chatter of the girls in the main floor filled the otherwise vacant club as Yuta stepped up onto the stage. Behind him, the bloodied and thrashing form of the owner was being dragged up by the neck of his suit. All eyes in the room snapped up to the stage in shock as the tall boy wiped at his blood stained cheek with the back of his hand. The girl’s collectively gasped as he tossed the man forward and unsheathed his katana, positioning it pointedly at the boss’s back. 

“Tell me what you want me to do with him.” Yuta announced, blown out eyes sweeping across the room. He found your gaping gaze almost instantly, taking in the way the other girls seemed to huddle beside you in search of solace. After a moment of stunned silence, he elaborated. “I can take him to the police station now if that’s what you want.” 

He took two slow and calculated steps forward, placing his foot on the man’s back as he attempted to get up. A loose strand of his dark hair swayed in his eyes as he looked back up dangerously. “Or I can kill him right here.”

There was a glint in each one of the dancer’s eyes, one that said they didn’t find his latter suggestion as outrageous as they perhaps should have. Each one of them glanced at one another, unspoken uncertainty bouncing between the group heavily. After a pregnant silence, it was you who finally spoke up, stepping closer to the stage to look up at Yuta. 

“You can’t kill him.” You urged, even if there was nothing that would satisfy you more than watching the life drain from his eyes. Okkotsu peered down at you with furrowed brows, and you felt the tears well up in your eyes. “This place is all I have— all any of us have.” 

The thusfar impossibly tight grip he had on the hilt of his katana seemed to loosen at your confession. 

“If he dies— we don’t know what will happen to it. Anyone can buy it— turn it into whatever they want.” Leaning forward, your own indecisiveness was making your chest heave. On one hand, it killed you knowing that he had gotten away with the hurt he was causing for so long. Even moreso, it killed you each time a new girl was brought in, hopeful for the family she would make in the tight-knit group, only to be subjected to the same fate as the rest. Alternatively, you knew what the lives of many of these girls were like before finding their place within their artistry, and none of you were quite prepared to risk it— even if it meant enduring his putrid displays of depravity. “All we have is each other, Yuta.”

His heart broke with each tear that rolled down your cheek and onto the freshly cleaned stage. Yuta had seen it first hand— how you all reveled in your craft, how each of you breathed life into this place. He had also seen the way you all kept eachother afloat despite the shared, unfortunate circumstances you found yourselves in. 

“He’ll hand over the deed.” The suggestion tumbled out more like a demand, and the man beneath him began to grumble something along the lines of like hell I will. Yuta pressed the tip of his katana into his back before snatching his head up by the little hair he had left on his scalp. “I wasn’t asking.” 

It was almost half an hour of timid shuffling around his office, katana still pressed against his back as he sifted frantically through his papers for the damned property deed. He was blabbering some half-assed excuse about their needing to be a proper transfer signing for the business, but Yuta quickly reminded him that they’d have plenty of time to work those details out while he was rotting in a cell. 

The police came shortly after upon one of the girls’ call. After taking him into custody, Yuta stayed back as each girl gave their statement to the officer, chiming in as a witness when needed. It was uncomfortable— listening to each one of them recount the atrocities they’d been subjected to for so long. The unease almost had him wanting to wait somewhere else for the time being, but he felt he owed it to them to stick it out. 

So, he hovered close by until the last officer left the building. It was already almost early morning hours, all the girls clearly exhausted having not had the chance to rest following their shift. Despite their worn out auras, they summoned enough energy to grin gleefully at Yuta as he stacked the last chair on the table. Gone was his somber and frankly intimidating demeaner, and in its place was that shy, wobbly smile as he took in their hopeful expressions. 

“C’mon, don’t get all shy on us now, Yuta Okkotsu.” 

“Yeah, who knew— it really is always the quiet ones.” 

In spite of their teasing tones, they were all stepping forward to envelop the boy in a tight, group hug. There were hushed thank you’s being whispered into his ear as the sea of dancers seemed to squeeze him at all angles, him not sure where one ended and the other began. It was coming back to him— that high for his job that had thusfar been missing. He was realizing with each appreciative kiss to his cheek that it was never about the curses, but the lives that were spared in the wake of his chaos. 

“Don’t crush the guy, he’s got the deed.” Your voice rang out from outside the swarm. They slowly released him, and you had to bite back your laughter at the various red lipstick marks that were now covering his face. You wrapped your arms fondly around your sisters, a soft smile gracing your features. “Now go on, get home. I’m calling a mandatory meeting tomorrow, so you all better be bright eyed and bushy tailed when you come back.”

Each girl said their respective goodbyes, and Yuta got a few more rushed hugs and bows of thanks to which he waved off each time. 

“You could have told me, you know.” He stated as he watched you lock up the front door. You turned to peer at him with an unreadable expression. The closer you grew to him, the more his previous confidence was sinking into the wood floor beneath him. 

“Yeah, I guess I could have.” You reflected honestly, your hand trailing up his chest and toward his face. 

The delicate pads of your fingers gripped at his lip-stick stained cheeks, and you determined that red really was his color. Yuta gulped anxiously under your watchful eye, and he quickly reached into his back pocket to pull out the folded up deed. 

“I, uh, believe this belongs to you now.” He chuckled breathlessly, watching your gaze soften as you took the deed into your hands. “You’ll do great, I know it.”

Your eyes skimmed across the miniscule writing before looking back up at him through your lashes. The paper fell to the floor between you two. 

“You think so?” You breathed with a tempting smirk beginning to take form on your lips. At once, your hands came up to rest on his surprisingly sturdy shoulders, and you pushed him down into the chair behind him. 

He could feel the way he was embarrassingly already straining against the fabric of his pants, making him shift skittishly in his seat.

“I-I do.” The sorcerer attempted to keep his voice level as you stepped between his spread legs. 

“You’ll come back to visit, won’t you, Yuta?” 

The heels of his feet dug into the ground as he pressed himself back against the chair, willing himself to pull it together with each dig of his fingers into his thighs. Nonetheless, he nodded quickly at your question. 

“Yes, yes, I promise I’ll—” He cut himelf off with a stunned gasp, watching you sink to your knees before him. Not wanting to get ahead of himself, he only watched as your palms met his knees, trailing up tantalizingly before confirming his suspicions with a purposeful palm against his aching length. Somewhere between a choke and a moan, Yuta forced himself to sit up, grasping your hands gently in his. “Y-You don’t have to do that.”

The way you gazed up at him, pressing your cheek against his thigh, almost made him reconsider his stance as a decent, respectful man. Twisting your hand in his grasp, you laced your fingers in his. 

“And if I want to?”

“You just— I wasn’t expecting anything from any of you.” He explained sincerely, toying absentmindedly with your nimble fingers. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Yuta,” You drawled out, sitting up until you were at least level with his chest. His shallow breaths fanned out against your face as he hunched over to accommodate the space between you. “Let me be the one to choose for once, yeah?” 

And he couldn’t possibly argue with you any further as you worked his pants down his legs. Any apprehension or semblance of restraint drained from him with the first daring stripe you tongued up his cock. Tossing his head back with a strangled whine, he missed the way you stared up at him. The sight of his stained cheeks and mustled hair had you unintentionally moaning against him, and you weren’t sure when blood-soaked clothing started ticking off boxes for you. 

Your tongue lapped against his sensitive tip with every bob of your lips down his length. His fingers dug into his thighs once again, surely leaving scratches in their wake, but he was determined even in his lust clouded mind not to guide your movements as he so desperately wanted to do. Yuta wanted you to be in full control of the situation.

 It was proving difficult though, much more than he’d anticipated as the hand that wasn’t clasped around the base of his cock creeped under his shirt to feel his lean abs tensing under your touch. Despite his best efforts, his hips seemed to buck up on their own accord to match your steady rhythm. 

“Shit!” The uncharacteristic profanity slipped from his mouth as he panted up at the ceiling. Sparing a glance down at you, he resorted to crossing his wrists behind his chair, his fingers twitching to grasp at you. 

You were almost surprised at the pitchy moans that continued to fly out of him, but they only encouraged your efforts. It was cathartic watching him fall apart beneath you after all the anxious smiles and respectful distance. Under all of it, this Yuta Okkotsu was hidden the whole time, waiting for his respective turn to snap— much like all the other parts of him, you’d gathered. There were no nervous laughs anymore, just frantic writhes against the already wobbling chair while his chest heaved dramatically. 

As he spilled his release, perhaps a little too soon, but hell, it was almost endearing, you couldn’t think of any man more deserving of this part of you. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips, eyebrows drawn together as he attempted to collect himself. You snaked up his body, working to push his dark locks from his perspiring forehead. His wide eyes shot open at the sensation, and he found himself flushing under your tender gaze. 

Hesitantly, his hands moved from their crushing grasp behind his chair to cup your cheeks, searching your face for protest. There were remnants of him pooling at the corner of your mouth, but he simply wiped at it haphazardly with his thumb before pressing his lips against yours with a boyish aim. Your eyes remained wide open for a moment, surveying the way his were shut tightly. You slowly allowed yours to do the same. 

“I—uh,” Yuta’s lips were nearly still pressed to your as he stammered. Against you, you could feel him smile shyly. You pulled back a bit, wondering what he could possibly be nervous about now that he’d just practically licked himself from your mouth. He couldn’t help himself though. In his imaginary book of social norms and world fallacies, guys like him didn’t end up with girls like you. “I know this is a little backwards, but do you think I could take you to dinner sometime? Maybe?”

You smiled, that genuine smile he’d been dying to be on the receiving end of since the first time he saw it. Placing yourself comfortably in his lap, you pretended to hum in consideration.

“Hm, I don’t know, Yuta. I’m a business owner now— not sure I’ll have time for shady, ghost-buster characters.” 

He laughed at your accusation, his once shy demeanor melting away with your playful banter. His hands slid around your waist to hold you steady as he tilted his head. 

“Guess I’ll have to come every Friday night then, huh? Wouldn’t want to miss a dance.”

a/n: this song came on while I was driving, and I almost crashed the car when the inspo for this fic hit me

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[ponderingmoonlight]

jjk complilation masterlist

My jjk fic list is so full that the complilations need their own list lol

complilation = different characters seperately in the same scenario

How JJK men react to other girls flirting with them/reader getting insulted ft. Gojo, Megumi and Yuta

JJK men sharing a bed with reader ft. Megumi, Nanami and Yuta

JJK men sharing a bed with reader part lll ft. Toji, Geto, Haibara and Choso

How JJK men act when they're jealous ft. Megumi and Gojo

JJK men turning the usual confident reader shy ft. Yuta, Geto and Megumi

Shibuya arc scenarios that live in my head rent free part l ft. getting sealed along with Gojo, Geto awakening by the sound of your voice

How JJK men react when (y/n) gets injured ft. Nanami, Megumi, Toji and Geto

JJK men in and after a fight ft. Goto, Megumi and Nanami

JJK men in and after a fight pt. ll ft. Geto, Choso and Yuji

JJK men with drunk reader ft. Choso and Nanami

JJK men with drunk reader pt. ll ft. Geto, Megumi and Gojo

JJK men meeting you for the first time (aka Megumi catching you buying condoms) ft. Gojo, Nanami and Megumi

JJK men after hurting (y/n) ft. Choso and Gojo

How JJK men react when you fall asleep on top of them ft. Nanami, Gojo and Inumaki

How JJK men react to different insecurities Part 1 ft. Nanami (gn!reader's facial scars), Megumi (fem!reader with small breasts) and Sukuna (gn!reader with acne)

How JJK men react to different insecurities Part 2 ft. Nanami (reader doesn't want kids), Gojo (reader who gained weight), Megumi (reader with hooked nose)

How JJK men react to different insecurities Part 3 ft. Nanami (overweight reader), Choso (reader with big breasts), Yuji/Todo (tall/curvy reader)

How JJK men act when you can't sleep ft. Gojo, Inumaki and Megumi

JJK men with a small-chested reader ft. Toji, Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna and Geto

JJK men with a big-chested reader ft. Nanami, Geto, Yuji/Sukuna and Gojo

Stitching JJK men up or at least trying to ft. Gojo, Toji and Yuta

Doing the ribbon around biceps trend with JJK men ft. Gojo, Nanami, Toji and Sukuna

Making JJK men realize what love is ft. Geto, Sukuna and Toji

Seeing JJK men shirtless for the first time ft. trueform! Sukuna, Nanami, Choso, Gojo and Geto, Ino, Toji and Ijichi

Getting caught while making out with JJK men ft. Geto, Gojo and Nanami

Slow kissing turning into aggressively making out with JJK men ft. Gojo, Sukuna and Toji

Meeting your ex jjk boyfriend again after your breakup ft. Gojo and Toji

JJK men when you go into labor ft. Toji, Geto, Gojo and Sukuna

JJK men pretending to date you to get rid of unwanted attention ft. Geto, Megumi, Choso and Gojo

How JJK men react to seeing you in their clothes ft. Gojo, Megumi, Yuta and Nanami

Going to "your spot" after the breakup and finding your ex jjk men there ft. Gojo, Geto, Megumi and Yuji/Sukuna

Playing truth or dare with jjk men ft. Gojo, Geto Sukuna and Megumi

jjk men comforting you after a rough day ft. Megumi, Gojo, Choso, Yuji and Sukuna

jjk men cheering you up ft. Gojo, Geto, Choso and Sukuna

[dee-writes-anime]

Too Much? Just Enough

FEATURING Toge Inumaki x Reader

SUMMARY You never considered that you might be too loud for your quiet, warm-hearted boyfriend... maybe you were selfish not to.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, insecurities, inumaki being the sweetest, maki being maki (sigh)

AUTHORS NOTE finally got a day off from schoolwork to do some writing! Here is Inumaki's justice as promised! Enjoy! <3

The festival grounds were alive with color and sound, the air thick with the smell of sizzling food and sweet treats. Lanterns swung gently in the evening breeze, casting a warm, golden glow over the crowd as they meandered through stalls of games, souvenirs, and food. The laughter of children mixed with the shouts of vendors calling out their wares, while the steady hum of excited conversations filled the background.

You had been buzzing with energy the moment you arrived, eyes wide as you darted from one stall to the next, dragging Toge with you, your fingers intertwined with his. There was something about festivals that just lit you up from the inside out—the music, the lights, the sense of celebration—it was like fuel for your soul. You’d barely stopped talking since you got there, your voice a cheerful lilt that seemed to match the lively atmosphere around you.

“Toge! Look at this!” you called, pointing to a stall selling a dizzying array of masks. Kitsune, tengu, and oni masks hung from wooden beams, their vibrant colors catching the light. “We should get matching ones!” you grinned, already picturing how adorable Toge would look in one.

Toge turned to look, his violet eyes sparkling under the glow of the lanterns. His lips quirked up in a small smile as he gave a soft nod, the affectionate look in his eyes sending warmth through you. He didn’t have to speak for you to know he found your excitement endearing.

“Fish flakes,” he said quietly, agreeing with a subtle nod.

Without hesitating, you picked out a kitsune mask for yourself and handed Toge a matching one, the white face of the fox sharp and mischievous. Toge slipped it over his head, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you both admired each other. He gave you a small, amused hum, clearly pleased by your reaction.

Yuta and Maki caught up with you two at the mask stall, Yuta laughing softly at your energy while Maki gave a small shake of her head, though the smirk tugging at her lips showed she wasn’t completely disapproving.

“Wow, you’re like a kid in a candy store,” Maki teased, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against one of the beams. “What’s next? Gonna drag us to every food stall here?”

“I might!” you shot back, grinning widely. “It’s a festival, Maki, you gotta go all in!” You tugged at Toge’s hand. “Besides, Toge’s totally down for it. Right?”

Toge’s lips curved upward again as he nodded, clearly amused by how much fun you were having. He squeezed your hand gently, his way of encouraging your endless energy. You knew you could be a lot, but Toge never seemed to mind, always steady and supportive, grounding you even when you were a whirlwind of enthusiasm.

Panda joined your group next, a huge smile on his face as he approached with a paper bag full of festival snacks. “Hey, did you guys see the yakitori stand? I got some for everyone!” He pulled out a few skewers, handing them out. “Except Toge, of course,” he added with a playful wink.

Toge waved it off, his eyes warm as he accepted the gesture regardless. You, on the other hand, eagerly accepted the skewer, practically bouncing on your feet.

“This looks amazing, Panda! You always know where the best food is!” you said, taking a big bite. The savory, smoky flavor hit your taste buds, and you groaned in delight. “This is so good!”

Panda laughed, nudging Yuta with his elbow. “See, someone appreciates good food.” Yuta chuckled in response, though his focus seemed more on keeping track of everyone in the bustling crowd than the food itself.

As you continued walking, the festival’s cheerful chaos buzzed around you like a soft hum in the background. Every so often, you’d stop to point out something new—a game stall, a street performer, another food stand you just had to try—and Toge followed you without complaint, his fingers never once leaving yours. Every now and then, you’d feel his thumb gently rub against the back of your hand, his silent way of grounding you in his quiet affection.

The two of you had always balanced each other that way. You were the loud, excitable one, the one who wore your emotions on your sleeve, while Toge was your quiet, calm counterpart. He never had to say much; his presence alone was enough to make you feel secure, supported, and understood. He let you be yourself—wild, energetic, loud—and never once made you feel like you had to hold back.

It was this easy, natural rhythm between you that made being with Toge feel like second nature. You could bounce from one thing to the next without worrying about exhausting him or overwhelming him. His patience was unwavering, his affection always subtle but present in the small gestures—the way he watched you with soft eyes, the way he adjusted his pace to match yours, the way he squeezed your hand every time you rambled on excitedly about something new.

And right now, your focus was on a nearby game stall. “Look, Toge! It’s one of those water gun games! You know, the kind where you have to shoot the target and fill up the balloon? We have to try it!”

Toge glanced at the stall, then back at you, his lips pulling into a half-smile. You could tell he found your excitement infectious, even if he didn’t express it the same way you did. He nodded, and with a little tug, you pulled him toward the stall, waving at Maki, Yuta, and Panda to join you.

As you grabbed the toy gun, determined to win, Maki strolled over with a smirk. “You’re really not gonna get tired of this, are you?”

You grinned at her, determined. “Nope! Toge’s got my back, right?” You shot Toge a teasing glance, and he gave a small hum of agreement, his eyes watching you with that familiar warmth.

That’s when Maki made the offhand comment. “I’m just surprised Toge doesn’t get tired of you. I mean, you’ve been going non-stop since we got here.”

Her comment was casual, even light-hearted, but something about it lodged itself into your chest, a small ache blooming out of nowhere. You laughed, the sound coming out more awkward than you intended. "No, Toge’s fine," you said, glancing up at him with a smile that felt a little too forced. "He doesn’t mind, right?"

Toge’s eyes flicked toward Maki for a second before turning back to you, and he shook his head softly, dismissing the comment entirely. “Bonito flakes,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. But even as he squeezed your hand to show he was fine, something in Maki’s words dug into your chest, planting a small seed of doubt.

Have you been too much? You were always like this—loud, full of energy, constantly dragging Toge along with you. But now that Maki had pointed it out, it was hard not to think about it. Maybe you were overwhelming him, and he was just too polite to say anything. He was quiet by nature, after all, and here you were, chattering away, pulling him from stall to stall without a second thought.

You tried to shake it off, but the thoughts lingered as the night went on. Every time you raised your voice, every time you pulled Toge along to the next thing, the doubt crept in a little more. Were you exhausting him? Were you being selfish, assuming he was fine with all of this? You couldn’t tell anymore.

As the festival wound down, the bright lights and energetic atmosphere slowly fading into the quiet of the night, the change in your mood hadn’t gone unnoticed. Where there had once been boundless excitement, your energy had dulled to a faint flicker. It wasn’t like you to walk in silence, not with Toge’s hand still held in yours, not with the buzz of festival joy still lingering around everyone.

You kept replaying Maki’s words in your head, wondering if maybe she’d noticed something you hadn’t. Maybe Toge really did get tired of you—maybe you were just too much, too loud, too energetic. The thoughts wrapped around you like a heavy blanket, making it hard to laugh or smile like you had been earlier.

The silence became so unusual that even Yuta, ever so kind and careful, furrowed his brow as he walked alongside Panda and Maki. He glanced between you and Toge, noticing your unusually quiet demeanor.

"Hey, are you okay?" Yuta asked, his voice soft with concern. "You’ve been a little quiet for a while now."

Panda, always the more boisterous of the group, chimed in with a good-natured grin. "Yeah, you were about to eat all the festival food earlier, and now you’re barely saying a word. You good?"

You forced a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "I’m fine," you said quickly, though your voice lacked its usual vibrancy. "Just... tired, I guess."

Yuta gave you a curious look, but he didn’t press further. Panda, too, noticed the shift, his usual lightheartedness momentarily subdued. Even Maki, though she didn’t say anything, shot you a glance as if wondering if her earlier comment had something to do with your sudden change in mood.

Toge, however, had been watching you the whole time. He hadn’t let go of your hand, and every few minutes, he squeezed it, as if reminding you that he was still there, that he was still by your side. His violet eyes flicked to you again now, a gentle worry in his gaze that only you could read.

“Salmon?” he asked softly, his tone inviting, asking if everything was really okay. But you just gave him a small, reassuring nod, despite the growing heaviness in your chest.

"I’m fine," you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper this time. "Really."

Toge wasn’t convinced. The quiet between you two had never felt so heavy before, so unnatural, and he knew something was bothering you. But he didn’t push you in front of the others, content to wait until the two of you could have some privacy.

The group lingered a little longer before eventually making their way back to the dorms, the lanterns of the festival becoming faint dots of light in the distance. Everyone was laughing, chatting about the fun they'd had, but you remained quiet, your mind lost in its spiral of self-doubt. It wasn’t like you to hold back like this, but you couldn’t shake the worry that maybe you had overstepped, that maybe you’d drained Toge with your constant chatter and boundless energy.

When the group finally reached the dorms, Yuta waved everyone off, smiling softly. “Goodnight, guys! It was fun.” Maki gave a brief nod of farewell, Panda let out a big yawn, and you mumbled something in response, your mind elsewhere.

Toge didn’t miss a beat. Without a word, he tugged your hand gently, guiding you toward his dorm. His fingers were still laced with yours, his touch grounding, comforting, but also insistent in that quiet way of his. He wasn’t going to let this slide—not tonight.

As you followed him through the hallways, the familiar comfort of the dorms all around, your heart started to beat a little faster. You could tell from the way Toge moved—quiet but purposeful—that he wanted to talk. And the thought of sharing what had been bothering you, the insecurity you’d been trying to shove down all night, made you nervous.

Once you were inside his dorm room, the door clicked softly shut behind you. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamp on his desk casting a gentle warmth over the space. Toge turned to you, his gaze soft yet determined, and led you over to sit on the edge of his bed.

He sat beside you, his hand never leaving yours, and he tilted his head slightly, as if to say, I’m listening.

“Mustard leaf,” he said softly, his voice a gentle prompt. Talk to me.

You stared at your intertwined hands, your heart racing as you tried to figure out where to start. The words were stuck in your throat, tangled up with the doubt and insecurity that had been eating at you all night. You didn’t want to burden him with this—you didn’t want to be that person, the one who constantly needed reassurance.

But Toge was patient. He gave your hand another small squeeze, his thumb brushing gently across your skin, a silent encouragement. He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “I... I just... I’ve been thinking about something Maki said earlier,” you began, your voice quiet, hesitant. “About me being... a lot. Too much, maybe. And I started thinking, what if she’s right? What if I’m just... exhausting you?”

The words came out all at once, tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, the insecurity you’d been trying to hide now laid bare. “I mean, I know I can be loud and excitable, and you’re so quiet, so calm. I just started thinking... maybe I’m overwhelming you. Maybe I’m too much for you, and you just haven’t said anything because you’re too nice.”

Toge’s eyes widened slightly, his grip on your hand tightening as he shook his head, his expression full of quiet urgency. “Salmon,” he said, his tone firm but tender. No. You’re wrong.

You looked up at him, your eyes starting to sting with unshed tears. “I know you’d never say anything to hurt me, but... if I really am too much, I want to know. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to put up with me.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you, the air thick with emotion. And then, Toge reached up, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was warm, steady, and when you met his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity and affection there.

“Tuna mayo,” he murmured, shaking his head again as he brought his forehead to rest against yours. You’re perfect the way you are.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and for the first time that night, the weight on your chest seemed to lighten just a little. But the doubt still lingered, clinging to the edges of your heart. “But... how do you not get tired of me?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m always dragging you around, talking so much, being loud... I feel like I’m the opposite of you.”

Toge pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he gently brushed his thumb against your cheek. He shook his head again, his expression soft but insistent. He brought a hand to his heart, then pointed to you—You’re what makes me happy. You’re the one I want to be with.

You blinked, the tears finally spilling over as the weight of his words sank in. He wasn’t just tolerating you. He wanted you, all of you—the loud, excitable, chatty parts of you that you’d been worried were too much. They weren’t too much for him. They never had been.

“Kelp,” he whispered again, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. I love you the way you are.

You let out a small, shaky laugh as you wiped your tears, a wave of relief washing over you. “You really don’t mind?” you asked, your voice still thick with emotion.

Toge smiled softly, shaking his head once more. “Salmon,” he murmured, his thumb still brushing gently against your cheek. Not at all.

And for the first time since Maki’s comment, the doubt that had been weighing you down finally began to melt away. Toge didn’t just accept you—he cherished you, loudness and all.

With a soft sniffle, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he held you close, his chin resting atop your head. “I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

Toge’s hand gently rubbed your back, soothing and comforting as he pressed another kiss to the top of your head. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the quiet strength of his presence wrapping around you like a protective shield.

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the dorm and the steady beat of Toge’s heart beneath your ear. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was warm, peaceful—filled with the unspoken promise that, no matter how loud or excitable you were, Toge would always be there, holding you close, loving you just the way you were.

And as you snuggled into him, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breathing against you, you felt something return—a spark of that boundless energy, that loud, excitable girl that Toge loved so much. Because with him, you didn’t have to be anyone else but yourself.

[bee-the-loser-recs]

~✩✮✩ My Yuta One-shot Fic Recs ✩✮✩~

★ Call me by your name By @yutaholic 17k, tattoo artist Yuta, reader gets tattoos, nurse reader, both have bad past exes, fluff, smut, slight angst, (mis)communication, alcohol use

★ Deep end By @yutaholic 22k, rich heir Yuta, bartender reader, mentions of arranged marriage, lack of freedom, smut, fluff, angst, kind of sugar daddy relationship, cigarette use

★ On my own By @yutaholic 16k, non-idol au, cheating partners, getting revenge on ex partners, falling in love, smut, angst, fluff, revenge romance, reckless, raunchy, brief violence, cigarette use

★ Convincing By @suhnshinehaos SMAU, university au, fake dating to real dating, shitty exes, basketball player Yuta, fluff, cute conversations, Yuta has a crush on reader

★ Spiked By @suhnshinehaos 0.78k, drabble, office au, fluff, spiked punch bowl, reader looks after Yuta, drunk Yuta, mutual crushes, promises of kissing when sober

★ In disguise By @tqmies 13k, Jungwoo x reader (x Doyoung x Yuta), college au, roommates, camboys, romantic Jungwoo & reader, foursome, smut, fluff, friends Mark & Haechan

★ Fuck the police By @loudstan Magic au, werewolf Yuta, police officer reader, reader can read minds, smut, slight fluff, imprinting, slight angst

★ Missing pieces By @woozten-x 18.8k, non-idol au, model Yuta, cafe worker reader, Shotaro is reader's brother, model Shotaro, living down the hall from another, homesickness, fluff, slight angst, comfort, teasing, jealousy

★ Hard to fake [part 1], [part 2], & [part 3] By @irregular-idol-imagines 1.7k & 1.5k & 1.9k, non-specified au, Yuta is a friend's roommate, creepy dates, help getting rid of a creep, fluff, suggestive & sexual nature, awkwardness, dirty talk, making out, phone sex

★ Kitchen flirt By @irregular-idol-imagines 600+, roommates to lovers?, humour, asking for outfit checks, making out, flirting, suggestive nature

★ One of the Girls [part 1] & [part 2] By @irregular-idol-imagines 1.7k & 1.4k, friends to lovers?, fluff, insecure & toxic date, verbal conflicts, stereotypes, drinking together, discussions of relationships & dynamics, "girls night", suggestive nature

★ Highway to heaven & Runaway with me By @justwritedreams 2.1k & 2.2k, college au, established feelings kind of, making out, suggestive nature, slight fluff, parties, friends NCT 127, beach holidays together with friends

★ Rum, eggnog and an accidental confession By @neonun-au 4.2k, holiday au, fake dating to get family pressures of your back, Christmas time, accidental confessions, fluff, pining, past university partners

★ Surprise By @jungcherie 10k, boss Yuta, secretary reader, parenthood au, abandoned child, mentions of them being Yuta's biological son, angst, slight fluff, friend Mark

★ Love me now By @kpophours 7.3k, non-idol au, tattoo artist and piercer Yuta, old college friends, past crushes, fluff, suggestiveness, slight angst, idiots friends to lovers, mutual pining

★ Fuchsia coloured sunglasses By @whereisten 28.5k, rockstar!Yuta, makeup artist reader, soulmate au, fluff, angst, some smut, different dimensions, comedy

★ Delphinium By @taelme 12k, demi god au, Hades' son Yuta, Demeter's kid reader, angst, in depth discussions of grief, parental loss, hurt/comfort, some fluff, comfort from Yuta, slight strangers to lovers

★ Tattoos and tea By @bellalikeskitties 1.9k, flower shop owner reader, tattoo artist Yuta, edgy x sunshine dynamic, cute, reader wants a tattoo, spending time together, fluff

★ Just like me By @bellalikeskitties 1.6k, demon Yuta, immortal au, reader has a sick sister, making deals & selling your soul, God's blessing, mentions of Doyoung

★ Cologne By @jaelvr 3.5k, college au, enemies to lovers, mutual feelings, Jonny is reader's brother, brother's best friend trope, fluff, angst, mutual feelings

★ Just between us [part 1] & [part 2] By @mrkis 9.2k & 14.4k, established relationship between Yuta & reader, inviting Mark to join them, smut, mentions of Winwin being included in their dynamic, slight fluff, teasing, discussions of the rest of NCT having crushes on reader

★ Train crush By @planetkiimchi 4k, strangers to lovers, meet cutes, non-specified au, red-haired Yuta, train crushes, asking one another out, fluff, cuties

★ Sweet deception By @neowinestainedress 19.5k, Haechan|Yuta|Jaehyun|Jaemin|Johnny|Jeno x reader, halloween party, smut, monsterfucking, demon Haechan, fairy Jaemin, incusub Jeno, tentacle monster Yuta, ghost Jaehyun, shadow Johhny, smut, plot twist

★ [1:24am] By @gyeomsweetgyeom Drabble, best friends to lovers, Yuta & reader have a habit of making out while drunk, frat NCT, other 127 members mentioned, pining, fluff, slight suggestiveness, mentions of weed

★ Limo By @springseasonie 1.5k, Yuta x reader x Doyoung, established relationship, polyamorous, smut, driving in a limo, high fashion event, sexual content, semi public sex

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Comfort | JJK Men x Reader How They Comfort You

CONTENT Fluff, comfort, gender neutral reader, comforting you after having a bad few days, reader having mental health troubles, yes this was self indulgent shit's been hard LMAO

WORD COUNT: 490

You were ranting to your lovely boyfriend after he asked you “what’s wrong baby?” and you immediately started bawling. All your pent up stress and emotion finally flowing out with your tears. You’ve been holed up in your room for a few days either working or sleeping, unable to even find the time or energy to shower. As you finish telling him about your troubles, your insecurities, etc. with a stuffy nose and puffy eyes you tell him “I don’t know what to do. I’m so tired…” His heart aches for you, and he responds with what feels right.

OKKOTSU YUTA, Yoshino Junpei

Cups your face with his hands to look into your eyes and say “I love you, no matter what, I love you. No matter if you think you’re doing a bad job, no matter if you hate yourself, I love you. I always will.” He spends the rest of the night helping you clean up and plan out your week all while giving lots of kisses.

NANAMI KENTO, ITADORI YUJI, MUTA KOKICHI

Holds you close with a hug and rubs your back, speaking quietly “let it out baby, you’ve been doing so amazing. You’re here, alive, taking care of yourself and your body. That’s all you ever needed to do.” He runs both of you a bath to help you relax and you talk about how you’ll tackle the next few days of work/school.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI, GETO SUGURU, KAMO CHOSO, KAMO NORITOSHI

Gives you your water bottle to take a sip, hands you tissues, and caresses your cheek. Tells you “you’re doing amazing despite everything you have going on baby. I love you, let’s rest tonight and I’ll help you with anything you need to get done tomorrow. We can sit together and do work.” You agree with his plan and after cleaning up, you cuddle until you fall asleep.

GOJO SATORU, TOGE INUMAKI (but he uses sign language/text)

Pulls out his phone and orders you your favorite order from your favorite fast food place, not even having to ask you what it is. “I love you, and you need to eat. You work so hard, relax tonight and we’ll get back to it tomorrow. Let’s shower while we wait for the food, I’ll wash your back for you.” He reassures you with his hands in the air “no funny business.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA, FUSHIGURO TOJI, Aoi Todo

Holds you and kisses your forehead, you breathe in his scent and he says “let it out.” His warmth and familiar smell make you ugly cry into his shoulder. He holds you for as long as you need and tells you he loves you while occasionally kissing you. He helps you schedule your week before bed and makes you breakfast the next morning.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[madamechrissy]

Up in The Air

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Suguru Geto x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Contents ♡ ♡ MDNI-mommy/daddy kink, sex, sweet and emotional, pregnant sex

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ this chap- 3.6k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ You have been jilted at the altar by your groom, Mahito, who has led you on for years. Your best friends, Maki and Yuta, suggest to go on this Honeymoon alone, to get away and find yourself again. On the plane ride, you run into a gorgeous man on a business trip, who holds your hand when you say that you're terrified of planes, Suguru Geto. You all fall into easy conversation, and there's chemistry, he makes you feel better than you had in a long time. You think to ask his number, when he realizes that his room has fallen through.

Well, you have a big honeymoon suite, and you suggest he stays with you. What can go wrong? Not like you don't wanna straddle him or anything...

A/N- Here is their ending!

Masterlist - Chapter 13 - Playlist

Chapter 14- Final

6 months later

Your story began being jilted by a terrible man.

Your story ends (well, it’s just the beginning, isn’t it?) standing at the end of the aisle, staring down at him, your breath in your throat, at the handsome, perfect man you adore. Surrounded by your loved ones, your friends, your family, in a breathtaking city known as Tuscany.

You’re surrounded by the vibrant hues of lavender fields and rolling hills that stretch out endlessly, your close loved ones you all had flown out to join, and you smile, tears hitting your eyes as you caress your tummy. Your belly, swollen at six months pregnant with Suguru’s babies, not just one, no, you had twin girls.

It had been the happiest day of your lives, finding out at the ultrasound that you both had twins on the way, Suguru was so overjoyed as he looked at that little black and white screen.

“I’m gonna be a dad. Oh my God, thank you, Princess. Thank you.” He whispered, kissing you through your tears, your heart thudded in your chest, as he gently touched your tummy.

“No thank you, Sugu. Oh my god, twins!?”

“I know!”

“You jinxed us at the hotel.” You tease, and he grins, kissing you over and over until the doctor came back in.

Now, Maki stands on your side, and Gojo is behind Suguru, as you slowly walk down the aisle, in a beautiful, flowing gown tailored loosely around your bump. You feel a little insecure, so big right now, but how Suguru looks at you? Like you’re that Princess he always calls you?

Yeah, you feel like an entire queen with him.

The gentle breeze kissed your skin as the sun shone down, casting a warm glow over everything, as you keep stepping forward, grinning at everyone who has come, surrounded by pretty rose petals all over. Your sparkly slippers are flat, not the heels you planned, as you think you’d topple, but you were certainly a vision.

Suguru’s chocolate eyes glitter as he gulps with emotion, looking breathtaking, so handsome, just like that moment you saw him at the airport. Your ring is glinting in the light, ready to be joined by a beautiful band now, and your heart is just pounding in your ears as you finally approach.

Maki, your maid of honor, looked absolutely radiant in her emerald dress, her eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief as she smiles at you. You smile back tremulously, as Gojo, dawning a gorgeous blue suit, whispers in Suguru’s ear, making Suguru grin so big, as Gojo’s hand is on his shoulder.

You felt a flutter in your stomach, a mix of excitement and nerves as you step up to the altar then, and Suguru exhales, eyes drinking you in, his full lips parted. He looks so beautiful, you think, that’s the word, his hair is even longer, slicked back in a half pony tail, black hair shining in the sunlight, he’s wearing a gorgeous kimono, more traditional of Japan, it’s blue silk, stunning embroidery.

It makes him look like some Prince from long ago, the way the sleeves billow out, the way it wraps his perfect, strong form. You’re sobbing before you can even say a word, and he exhales, brushing your tears away with one hand, so big it takes over your rounding face. His other hand takes your hand, kissing the back of your knuckles, just like the day he met you.

“Sugu…” You whisper, and he sighs, his own eyes glistening.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Princess. Like you’re not real.” He whispers, and you choke on another sob, sniffling now, stepping closer, as the crowd oohs and ahhs.

“You look beautiful.” Maki says, and you flush, as Gojo smiles down at you.

“So beautiful he couldn’t even wait to knock you up. Ow!” Suguru elbows him, rolling his eyes, but he lightened the mood, certainly, making you giggle. “There, much better.”

“Uh huh.” You stick out your tongue, making Satoru’s eyes brighten as he smirks, then the priest begins, decked out in luxe white robes.

“We are gathered here today, to join these two in holy Matrimony, from this day and onward. They have chosen to say their own vows.”

You shake violently, Suguru holds your hands, trying to keep you calm, and you take several breaths. “Suguru Geto, the day I met you, everything shifted on it’s axis, it was like a breath of air in my lungs for the first time in so long. I knew I could trust you, instantly, I just knew you were the best person in the world. I hoped that I could sit next to you on that plane forever.”

Suguru gulps, long dark lashes blinking over those slanted, seductive eyes, as he takes his own breath. “Princess…”

Your thumbs brush his knuckles now, smiling with your quivering lips. “You made me love myself when I couldn’t. You made me, and make me, feel beautiful, feel worthy, feel so special, every single day. Sugu you saved my life, literally, figuratively… you gave me life again.”

You see people crying, and even Gojo and Maki are tearing up, as everyone watches you two, enthralled.

“I could never be happier than to be the mom to these babies…” You stroke your tummy lovingly. “To be a wife to you. Suguru Geto you’re my forever, and I will always thank God for that day I met you. That day we kissed, when you took my heart, when you filled it. Your patience, your care, your devotion… I love you so very much, more than I knew possible. Now… I love our babies too, already.”

He lets out a shaky breath then, swiping tears with a thumb, glaring down at you then. “Making me cry?”

“Join the crew.” He chuckles, emotions heavy, and everyone lightens up just a bit, but damn near everyone is crying. You see Nanami and his fiance, with their baby boy, Gojo and his wife with their baby girl (oh yeah, she’s pregnant again) and you see Yuuta who is smiling, sitting next to your mom, a mess.

You smile brightly at them, then back at Suguru. “Princess, the day I met you, I felt something was just missing, I couldn’t quite place it. I wasn’t unhappy, but… I needed something, and had no clue what I needed. That day, when I kissed your little hand, when I held it, when I watched you conquer your fear? I felt like I was getting closer to it.”

You’re clinging to his hands tightly, holding your breath, feeling like you’re in some sort of dream, until your babies kick at you. You suck in a breath, taking his hand and putting it on your tummy, and he breathes out, looking down so lovingly it makes you ache.

“They like your vows.” You tease softly, blinking through tears, and he chuckles a bit.

“Good. Princess, you were so open, so loving to me, you shared everything, you gave everything. You didn’t hold back, not once, as hurt as you were. Beautiful, emotional, caring, you’re so perfect it’s like you’re not real. You fill that piece, the missing piece, with your love.”

You cling tightly to his hand, the one feeling the girls kick now, your soft hair falling over your shoulders in curled tendrils.

“I have loved you, I will love you, for now and forever, and I will love our babies. So much. I know they’ll be beautiful like their mother, and will have me wrapped around their fingers.” You giggle then, sniffling, and look back up at him, as the light illuminates his form, as he studies you.

You’re so beautiful, carrying his children, in that white silk dress that hugs your curves, your breasts so full now, your curve of your belly, draping down. You’re wearing that flower you kept from the first date you all had on that island, the little fake one they put on your ear. Your gorgeous eyes glisten, your cheeks flushed with color, as he can feel your love radiating.

Nothing could be as beautiful as you, you’re like a dream, with your glow from pregnancy, from joy, with your perfect waterproof makeup, with your hair softly falling, you look like one of those paintings in your gallery. Except, so, so much more beautiful, like walking art.

You are art.

You’re his future.

“Do you, Suguru Geto, take her to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, until death do you part?” The priest asks, and Suguru grins, his white teeth glinting as he takes out your ring.

“Of course I do.” Satoru hands him the ring now, grinning, and Suguru takes it, and slips your ring on, lips brushing your knuckles, looking like some damn Disney Prince, but so much more handsome. He takes your very breath away, with every beat of your heart.

“And do you,” the priest speaks to you now, shaking you out of your Princess fantasy, but fuck it wasn’t a fantasy, was it? It was reality. “Take Suguru Geto, to be your lawfully-”

“Yes!”

“Um, Miss…”

“Sorry.” You grumble, and everyone laughs then, including Suguru, and the sight melts you even further.

“Lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, until death do you part? You can answer now, Miss.” The priest finishes, smiling, and you giggle at that, before smiling brightly up at Suguru.

“Of course I do.” Maki hands you Suguru’s white gold band now, and you slip it over his big knuckle.

“I now pronounce you man and wife, Suguru you may now kiss the bride.” Suguru bends down, cupping your face now, and as you kiss, the world around you fades away, and all that existed was the love you had for one another, the life you all were building. It’s all just Suguru, you, and your baby girls, clearly thrilled, as you think they’re dancing in there.

The applause and cheers of your guests brought you back to reality, and you turned to face them, hand in hand, as Mr. and Mrs. Geto.

The reception was a whirlwind of laughter, dancing, and congratulations, as everyone reveled in your happiness. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so damn much, from the amount of love just bursting from your chest. You felt like the most beautiful woman in the world as Suguru twirled you around the dance floor, his hand on your lower back, gently spinning you.

“Oh, Sugu… fuck this is perfect!? Aside from I’m a cow.” You huff, and he glares at you then.

“Excuse me? I’ll not allow anyone to talk about my wife that way. Even you, bratty girl.” You giggle, as he caresses your tummy, as your back is pressed against him, and you all sway gently. “You’re so beautiful, tummy round with my babies. Our babies.”

“I love you so much.” You whisper, tilting your head up, leaning to the side as he cups your jaw, as you feel the heat from his big, strong body against you.

“I love you, Princess.”

The night grew cooler as it went on, Tuscany has an amazing breeze so high up, and soon you found yourself leaning your shoulder against a stone pillar, watching your friends and family mingle, your hand resting on your baby bump. The wind is gently blowing your dress around, along with your hair, and Suguru approaches, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your ear.

"Are you okay, love?" He whispered, his voice filled with concern.

You nodded, a tear of joy slipping down your cheek. "I'm more than okay. I'm so happy I can’t…. Describe. This is everything I could have ever dreamed." You lean back on him, exhaling as he turned you to face him then, wiping the tear away with his thumb, his eyes searching yours.

"You're everything to me, too. And now, we're a family, aren’t we Princess?” You nod eagerly, and you are feeling the babies kick again, a little reminder of the love growing inside you.

“Sugu, they're beating me up. Vicious.” He laughs softly, bending on one knee, palming your belly and kissing it, looking up at you, so loving it makes your heart swell even more, so much it hurts.

“I can’t wait to meet you, Mimiko, Nanako.” You melt more, you’re a damn puddle as he talks to your belly, to your babies. “Can you all quiet down for a bit, though? Mommy is getting tired.”

You giggle, and he stands then, brushing your hair back. “Oh shit, it actually worked I think!?”

“Good…” He whispers, husky now, as his palm slides up your sore, aching breasts, so full they’re overflowing in his big hands. You gasp, looking around in the distance, and seeing that desire in his gaze. “I need them to give you a break, so I can fuck my wife properly.”

Shit.

******

Suguru carries you inside the beautiful villa, even though you protest due to your state, but it’s tradition he says. You’re kissing him, as he holds you, as he gently carries you to the room, and eases you down. He’s behind you then, unzipping your dress, it falls to a pool at your feet, a whisper of silk down bare skin, then he drinks you in, your pregnant body.

He’s caressing your tummy, thumbs running over new stretch marks, ones you should care about, but you don’t, not when Suguru lovingly rubs them. Not when he slides hands up again to your breasts, and his thumbs brush your nipples. You cry out, head falling back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth.

Suguru eases you back on the bed then, sliding down your panties, making you shiver as you’re craving him, more and more, your clit swollen when his rough finger caresses it, making you scream out. He’s kneeling on the floor, between your thighs, kissing down your body.

“Let me taste my wife.” He says, husky, and you’re gasping in pleasure, that rolls over you in waves as his tongue lavishes you, as you can’t even see him over your tummy, leaning back and whining. He laughs against you, breath tickling your glistening folds.

“I can’t see you.” You huff, and then you’re soaked, dripping embarrassingly from a few flicks. “I’m so sensitive!”

“I know, I love it.” He hums against your clit, as he sucks it into his mouth, and you fall back on your arms as he makes you climax so quickly, sliding a thick digit in your entrance now. “Sugu, oh my God, yes, yes!” You moan out, your breathing erratic, as he pumps his fingers in and out now.

You cling to the bed, feeling your knees shake, feeling the pressure build, and he kisses your belly so sweetly then, you see his eyes, chocolate rings over dilated pupils, as he watches you cum for him. You cling to his shoulders now, as you pulse, slippery down his fingers, and then he’s standing, undoing his Kimono, you eagerly help him, and then his cock springs out, so big, so thick, and you can’t help but whine.

“Suguru, you're perfect.” You whisper, stroking him then, going to put your mouth around his cock, and he sucks in a breath, as you taste him, feeling him thickening in your mouth as you work him.

“Princess, fuck , don’t take it too deep… ah-ah fuck.” He backs out as you’re sucking deeper, lapping up his precum hungrily, your pretty eyes looking up as he fills your throat. “Not so- fuck!”

“Mmm. I can do it. Pregnancy doesn't stop dick sucking, Daddy Sugu.” He rolls his eyes back in pleasure and annoyance, grabbing your hair, groaning now as you suck him deeper and deeper.

“Enough, fuck, I’ll cum.” He orders now, and pulls his cock out of your mouth with a pop, swiping the drool out off the sides of your mouth. “How does my Princess want to be fucked? What’s most comfortable today?”

His concern touches you so much, and damned if being pregnant didn’t make you even more emotional. “On my back, you standing? I’d say doggie but you’ve got my knees weak.” You murmur, making him grin, as he spreads your thighs, placing your heels up on the soft mattress, then his arms are on either side of you.

“Anything Princess wants.” He glides his cock inside you now, past your tight entrance and into your walls, which flutter around him as you feel so full, so fucking good. Your babies for once don’t move, giving you a blissful reprieve. His hands run over your tummy gently, as he pushes in fully. “Beautiful, as a mommy, aren’t you?”

“Thank you Daddy.” You whisper back, then you watch the nostrils of his straight nose flare, his high cheek bones flush, and he fucks you harder, not hard like before, but hard enough to hit that spot.

“Can you cum around me?” You nod, eagerly, and then he’s rolling his hips, his long silky black hair falling over you, brushing your breasts. He bends down and sucks a sensitive peak into his mouth then, and you fall apart, cumming hard, making his grip on your hip tighten. “Feel so good, fuck it’s even better?”

“It is so… so… ah!” You scream again, so goddamn sensitive Suguru is gently fucking you into another orgasm, moaning against your breast. Your hands cling to his shoulder as he rolls his hips again, rather than jostle you with hard thrusts, he’s careful, looking down into your eyes now. “L-love you. Love you.”

“I love you, Princess. S-so much.” He stutters as you clamp down on him, as he’s caressing your face, kissing you, careful to keep his weight off your tummy, and you melt into each other, as you come together so beautifully it brings tears to both of your eyes, it steals both of your breaths. “I’m close, Princess, what do you do to me?”

“Cum with me, please, let me feel you cum.” You plead, and his eyes shut, as he lifts your thigh so carefully, fucking just a little hard for a moment, until you fall apart under him, crying your release into his pretty lips. He’s groaning as he pulses, as his cock pours hot cum inside you, filling you with his seed, coating every bit. “Sugu! Sugu oh my… Sugu, I…”

He’s whispering your name, as you kiss, as he’s caressing your tummy, as he’s kissing you over and over, hungry, sweet, emotional. As you both pour your love into each other, surrounded by it. When you’re finished, and he’s cleaned you up, you’re laying back against him in the huge copper tub, the warm water fragrant as it laps around you both.

“Remember when you showed me how to play with myself?” You tease, looking up at him, and he grins, wiggling his brows. “You knew what you were doing!”

“I couldn’t help myself, you were so fucking hot. You are even hotter, now, fuck these curves kill me.” He grips your breasts again, making you whimper.

“As if my ass needed to get bigger.” He chuckles, shaking his head, planting kisses along your cheek, dripping wet from the tub.

“You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together. With our sweet babies.” 

“Me too, Sugu. Me too.”

*****

Three months later

Mimiko and Nanako are both crying in their cribs, they’re just home from the hospital. It had been a little rough, they’d come early, but they were perfect, healthy and beautiful. You and Suguru wake up, grumbling and exhausted, he helps you up out of bed, holding you carefully.

“I got them both, love, you’re sore.” He says, frowning, and you wipe the sleep from your eyes, yawning.

“Doc said it’s good for me to get up. Plus you’ll help me.” You murmur, kissing him on your tiptoes, feeling him smile against your lips.

“Always, Princess.” You and Suguru tiptoe into the rooms, and your twins somehow were both up, hungry, sucking on their little thumbs, Suguru picks them both up with ease, and fuck doesn’t he look so gorgeous holding them, with that adorationg in his gaze.

“Fuck I’m lucky.” You say, and he laughs softly, as he hands you Mimiko first, helping you unbutton your nursing bra.

“I’m lucky. Look at you.” He brushes a nipple, which leaks with milk then, making you blush.

“Don’t tease me when we can’t do anything, jerk.” You stick your tongue out, and he just pouts.

“Soon.”

“Soon.” You agree, bringing Nanako to your breast now, as Suguru puts a binkie in Mimiko’s mouth, cradling her. He bends down, kissing both of their precious faces, before kissing your forehead.

“I love you three, so much. I’ll protect you all forever.” He says, and your tears shimmer in the moonlight streaming from the nursery window.

“I’ll love you three forever, Suguru. You’re all mine.”

“And you’re all mine.” You kiss in the quiet, as your babies are in your arms, and you think to yourself, how lucky you are, how blissful this is, and how ready you are for even more of your adventures with your husband.

Your Sugu.

The end! I hope you all enjoyed their love story.

Masterlist of all my fics here. <3

[ddmmyuta]

Can I request a Yuta Nakamoto best friend smut? With female reader...

-🫣anon

I like your hands…

yuta x afab reader

warnings (wtf are you doing on smut tumblr as a minor?): smut, friends turned situationship, more smut, hand kink…

it was finally the weekend after a week that felt like a month! you needed to chill, take a breath, get some needed sleep, meditate… but that wasn’t going to happen, for you were going to a concert that evening. not that you minded… you were going to watch your best friend Yuta perform live, something you have always wanted to witness. but before that you had to do grown-up stuff… like shower and make yourself food and go get groceries… ugh!

just as you were about to exit your apartment to go get some groceries, your phone rings in your bag. it’s Yuta (your bestie) asking if you wanted to go for a quick brunch (that sounded so millennial I’m sorry). you agreed after being hesitant… you wondered where he got the time since he was literally performing that evening to thousands of people. you quickly pack the rest of your bag and sprint to the cafe he said to meet up at.

the cafe was fancy to say the least. you walked through the cafe doors and saw Yuta sitting in the middle of the room, already drinking a coffee. he doesn’t notice you until you’re right next to him. he quickly stands and gives you a hug ‘hi y/n, how have you been?’ he asks, pulling your seat out for you to sit. ‘I’ve been good… busy but good.’ you reply, settling your bag to the side. ‘shouldn’t you be preparing for a crowd of thousands at the moment’ you ask, looking into his eyes. damn, his eyes are really pretty now that you’re actually noticing and his hair compliments his skin tone a little too much to your liking. ‘We have a few hours before the concert and I knew you were coming to watch… thought we could chat a bit since we’ve both been busy and out of touch’ he says, grabbing your hand that was on the table and holding it. His hands are… fucking beautiful to say the least. it’s like Aphrodite sculpted every vein and crease on his hands, wrists… wow. ‘Would you like to order something?’ Yuta asks as the waiter is standing next to you… you must’ve gotten lost in a trance while looking at Yuta’s hands… you were weak!

after your meeting, Yuta walked with you back to your car, a awkward silence filled the air. ‘y/n, is there anything you’re insecure about?’ he asks, not in a offensive way, he was genuinely curious. ‘I don’t know, I think I’m insecure about everything and nothing at the same time. some days I feel pretty and other days I feel like dog shit’ you answer, Yuta looking at you confused. ‘Is there anything you’re insecure about?’ you ask in return. he takes a while to get to something that makes him feel insecure… ‘I don’t like my hands that much.’ you are shocked to say the least… ‘why, your hands are so pretty?’ you ask, a reprimanding tone in your voice. ‘I don’t know, I just wouldn’t list it as something that makes me attractive.’ he replies, you still shocked by his statement. you finally reach your car as Yuta greets you. ‘I should go get ready for tonight’s concert…’ you say, Yuta turning away and walking. ‘oh… and I like your hands…’ you say to him across the parking lot. you didn’t see it but he smiled and blushed so hard he could barely keep a straight face.

you arrive at the stadium for the concert, lines waiting for their tickets to get scanned. it was packed and you knew it was going to be a suffocating environment, however that didn’t matter for you were supporting your BEST FRIEND (which you told yourself constantly after your encounter at the cafe that morning). the show starts, people screaming and shouting, lights flashing… it was incredibly entertaining and somewhat nostalgic. the other members were amazing but your eyes were focused on Yuta… a little too much honestly. you started wondering mid concert if you were falling hard for the dude who lies like it’s a language and calls you bro as if it’s your first name. to be honest you tuned out so hard that before you knew it, the concert ended. people were leaving and the seats next to you were empty as you were just standing there lifelessly in a state of thought. you snapped back to reality shortly, got your things and went to go greet the guys backstage.

as you entered the backstage area you saw the other members either cooling off, eating or chatting with one another or other fans with a backstage pass, but you couldn’t see Yuta. you figured he was tired and probably wanted to be alone, so you greeted some of the guys but eventually left soon after. as you were heading for the exit of the backstage area, Yuta runs after you. ‘y/n where are you going?’ he asks slightly out of breath from running and performing for like… 2-ish hours. ‘I didn’t see you backstage so I thought you were tired or getting dressed…’ in that moment as you looked at him you realized he was shirtless. ‘I’m sorry, I wanted to change quickly before I saw you, I look all sweaty…’ he says shyly, and you won’t lie you would lick that sweat anytime! ‘I was wondering if you’d like a drink? Tea?’ he asked, gesturing to go to his dressing room. You couldn’t say no cause he looked all sexy with sweat dripping down his neck and he still smelled like an angel and his hair was all messy and his tattoos look all pretty and his belly button piercing was shining and his… you were WEAK!

as you entered his dressing room, you realized you were the only ones in there. he closed the door behind you and showed you to the couch in the room, which was conveniently facing the mirror. ‘so what do you want to drink?’ Yuta asks, walking across the room to the small fridge in the corner. ‘I have beer, whiskey, vodka, wine…’ he says, rummaging through the little fridge. ‘tea or a glass of water would be nice…’ you reply, Yuta laughing at your response. ‘you’re really boring.’ he says, pouring himself some whiskey and putting the kettle on for your tea. ‘I have to drive home…’ you reminded him. he sits down next to you on the couch, handing you your tea. ‘thanks for supporting me tonight, I really appreciate it.’ he thanks you, turning himself slightly to face you. ‘not as much as the fans appreciated it though…’ you say, gesturing to his still naked torso. ‘oh sorry… am I making you uncomfortable?’ he asks sarcastically, placing his hands on his chest to cover himself up. you once again notice his hands and how attractive every vein running down his arms are. he notices you staring, the air becomes thick and you completely zone out. subconsciously you both move closer to one another, both of you trying to keep focus but you just end up saying weird shit to one another and without even thinking you’re on his lap.

your lips are centimeters apart, foreheads touching and your heavy, nervous breathing seals the deal. his lips meet yours as his hand travels up your neck to your hair and grips tightly, your hands cupping the sides of his face and his other hand making it’s way under your underwear. ‘we should stop…’ you say breathlessly in an attempt to potentially save your friendship. ‘no we don’t…’ Yuta replies kissing you harder than before, his tongue intertwining with yours (and your friendship leaving the door). he flips you over so that he is hovering over you on the couch, his hands lifting your shirt up and throwing it on the ground. your bare torso feels the cold sensation of his rings as his hands roam your body, snaking down to your pants. he quickly removes your pants and throws them to the side, his hands moving towards your core. you look up to see yourself naked in the reflection of the mirror, seeing only Yuta’s back and head. he moves down to your heat, his head between your thighs and all you can see is the filthy reflection of you two in the mirror. he starts eating you out, making it impossible to keep quiet. ‘let them hear you…’ he says, moving his fingers toward your entrance and entering two fingers. his tongue licking your clit and his fingers moving in and out of you got you in a trance. ‘Yuta, I’m close…’ you say heavily, earning a grin from him. ‘cum around these pretty fingers you like so much…’ he says, pushing in and out of you faster until your cumming and squirting all over his hands and face. ‘such a good girl…’ he says, wiping his face with his dry hand.

you hear his belt unbuckle, his pants falling slowly to the floor. you feel embarrassed all naked like this, especially in front of your (former) best friend. ‘fuck, you’re beautiful…’ he says, finally removing his underwear to reveal his dick. even his dick was pretty, you don’t know how someone can be this attractive. just looking at his bare body, hooded eyes, tattoos and piercings could feed your fantasies and make you cum. ‘you look so cute naked… we might have to do this more often so I could see how cute you can get’ he says, teasing your entrance with his dick. ‘stop teasing me, please…’ you manage to whimper. ‘what do you want me to do then?’ he asks devilishly, removing himself from your entrance. ‘I want you to fuck me…’ and before you could end the sentence, he was fucking you hard. the sounds echoing in the room as his dick slams in and out of you, you’re heavy panting adding to the atmosphere. his left hand moving to your neck, slightly choking you. the sensation arousing you even further, it made you smile even. his right holds your one thigh, pushing it against your body as he moves even faster than before… you were going insane. your toes were curling from the pleasure, you knew you weren’t gonna last any longer and neither was he. ‘I’m gonna cum…’ you moan softly, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second after he was looking at your body the entire time. ‘cum for me…’ he pants in your ear, his abdominal muscles contracting with every thrust. ‘fuck you feel so good…’ Yuta says, earning a grin from you. before you could even think of anything else to say, you reached your high again. cum pouring out of you, your body shaking from what just happened. Yuta slowly pulls out and watches the cum drip down onto the couch, the sight making him want more.

before you could gather your senses he flipped you over once again so that you were straddling him. he looked into your eyes as you were hovering over him, his lips meeting yours again. he moves his lips to your neck, then to your chest as he leaves marks all over your body. ‘turn around’ he says, signaling for you to turn around so that you were facing the mirror on top of him. you quickly face the other way, now looking at yourself in the mirror and Yuta’s hands crawling along the sides of your body, one moving to your neck, the other moving to your clit. he starts circling your clit while kissing your neck from the back, him looking at your sensual reflection as well. the moans coming from you filled the room (and the hallway) as his hand moved faster around your clit. you were close to climaxing but before you could Yuta removes his hand and places it on your thigh. he lifts you slightly over his dick and he starts thrusting into you from below, your body automatically syncing up with his thrusts. the sight of you bouncing on his dick made him feel a certain way, and him knowing you’re seeing yourself all ruined like this made him even more turned on. ‘look at how pretty you are, fucked raw…’ he whispers into your ear, your core clenching at his words. ‘I want you to see how cute you look when my cum leaks out of you…’ he says thrusting even harder as if it was even possible. the hand that was on your neck moved to your breast, teasing your nipple as you were so close to cumming for the third time that evening. ‘Yuta I can’t…’ you say breathlessly, you can’t hold it in anymore. you were reaching your high for the third time but Yuta didn’t stop thrusting in and out of you until you were a cumming, squirting mess. his dick hitting you so deep it felt like you were gonna break. when he finally pulls out of you, he takes your jaw in his hand and he forces you to look at your reflection in the mirror. he forced you to look at your fucked out face, shaking body, heaving chest and the cum running down your thighs. he gently lifts you up and places you down on the (not cum smeared part) couch. ‘see this is what happens when you compliment me!’ he says, giving you a kiss to the forehead. he went to the bathroom to go clean up and you were understandably confused and shocked. you gather your clothes that were on the floor and you quickly put them on. you look at the cup of tea on the table and you feel sorry for everything it just witnessed.

‘I should get going.’ you say as Yuta comes out of the bathroom. ‘Hey, wait…’ Yuta says, trying to stop you from leaving. ‘What?’ you ask, kinda confused and rattled by everything that just happened. you were expecting Yuta to end the friendship. you thought he wanted to cut all ties with you now that things were awkward as fuck. Yuta looked into your eyes and he asks you… ‘I was wondering… there is a new Sanrio store that opened and I was wondering if you’d like to go check it out with me?’

thanks for reading… I absolutely loved this request, we need more people like anon who asks and requests what society needs! this is inspired by my love for Yuta’s hands cause when I see them hands I started barking like a damn dog!

[jeon-ify]

on live - nakamoto yuta

pairing: yuta (nct) x female reader *

a/n: hello!! this is my first nct smut!! ofc its gonna be of my bias????? yuta is rlly hot in this one and hes super super dom and mean but recently ive been into cnc (its a trauma response or a coping mechanism mannn idk) and i had a dream about yuta last night so i think this would be THE ONE! this might be my most toe curling and nastiest and most graphic smut i’ve ever written and tbh i love it 😁

in which yuta fucks you and makes you touch yourself on camera for him to watch while he’s on tour.

warnings: swearing, dom!yuta x sub!reader, unprotected sex (yeee a big no no) mentions of tossing out birth control (ib @justaaveragereader ), yuta calls reader a bitch, slut, whore, cnc!play, sextape in the making, pussy slapping, titty slapping and sucking, face slapping, spit play, breeding kink, female anatomy, she/her reader, some?jaehyun? sex on live, if i missed anything lmkk

genre: smut, dark romance

mdni. 18+

enjoy nasties

“wait, why are you buying lingerie? isn’t yuta leaving in like 3 days?” your friend asks you as you both decided to shop around for a set of lingerie to prepare for a film that your boyfriend was oh so excited to make.

as you both walked through the last couple of aisles, you find a gorgeous black and pink set. you already knew yuta would go insane over it, already imagining the different positions and scenarios he’d play out for you.

lately, yuta’s been into cnc play. something that he was so unsure and insecure about; but when the topic came up, he brought it up to you. you were always open to trying new things with yuta, as long as you both knew where you stood, and that there was a line.

“girl come look, oh my god…” you hold up the piece for you friend to see, watching the way her eyes shift to the corset area.

“good luck walking normally for the next week. he’s gonna fuck your brains out!” she says, almost too loud for the crowd.

you pick out your size and check out to head home. you throw your bags in the car, finally getting a chance to text your man.

my yuta 🤍: hey baby, i’m on my way home. i’m gonna stop at target really fast

my yuta 🤍: are you home?

y/n: hi baby!!!!!!!!! i’m not home yet

y/n: i’m almost there tho

my yuta 🤍: okay gimme like 20 minutes bb

y/n: okay :3

you pull into your driveway, grabbing your things and rushing inside to hurry into your new set. you quickly showered and did your hair, spraying it to hold the wet hair look. you rubbed on body oil followed by a body shimmer, yuta’s favorite thing you do. you sprayed perfume on your ankles, wrists and neck, wherever yuta would be closest to you.

you also put on a touch of makeup, as yuta loved when you wore makeup, just so he can watch it run down your face when he fucks your throat.

after 20 minutes of getting yourself ready for your man, you unlock the front door, running up the stairs for yuta to see you waiting on your knees in the middle of the bed. you calmed your breathing, nervousness clouding your entire body when you hear the front door slowly open.

the front door was never unlocked unless something was going on— and this had yuta’s blood rushing, knowing you were home with the door open already for him.

“baby? i’m home, why’s the door unlocked?” he yells for you, getting no answer— expecting him to walk upstairs looking for you. you hear him putting some bags down, listening to the jingling of keys and shoes being thrown around.

“my love, i’m not playing this game.” he sighs. you hear him finally walking up the stairs, blood rushing to your ovaries and making your head spin in excitement. he opens your bedroom door, taking in the view before him. you’re on your knees in the middle of the silk covered king bed, with a pink maid lingerie set on, your wet hair almost coming down to your breasts, shifting with every deep breath you take.

you hurriedly finish setting up the camera on the chair across from bed, making sure your hair and outfit looks perfect— if you’re posting this on twitter, it has to be astounding.

you rush to get back into position, hearing yuta’s footsteps approaching. he nears the room, leaving the door completely open. his gaze darkens, curiosity at the scene before him is making his cock hard. he can only wonder what’ll happen next.

“fuckin’ hell. this what you were doing? look at you, pretty girl. is this new?” he walks up to you, reaching for the straps on your fabric, admiring the way your clean skin is perfectly suited by the set you’ve had on.

“all for you, baby. wanted it to be a surprise when you got home. i remember you mentioned you wanted to try cnc, so i got excited.” you breathily laugh. yuta’s fingers run up your neck and down to the valley of your breasts.

“yeah? good memory, baby. what do you say i rip this off you and pound your pretty cunt, hm?” his long hair bounces off his shoulders when he stands up and undresses himself. slides off his white top, his black trousers following suite.

he doesn’t notice the camera at first, but when he catches you looking at the phone on the chair every 20 seconds to make sure it hasn’t fell, his cock (impossibly) gets harder and harder.

“yuta, aren’t you tired from work?” you pretend to push him away from you, but yuta doesn’t budge. he leans over your smaller figure, planting a kiss on your forehead.

the smell of his car is what’s following his body, the new car scent making your head spin. the cologne he wears makes compliment to his aesthetic, edgy and mysterious— with notes of tobacco and ocean breeze. you catch a tiny bit of vanilla as he moves away from you. the mix of fragrances makes your mind fuzzy.

“never too tired to fuck you,” he continues demandingly, cupping your jaw to get a better view of your nervous look. his shoulders are tense and you notice the sweat beginning to form around his chest. “no, yuta. i don’t want to,”

“don’t fight me baby. you’re only making this worse for yourself,” his large hands press your back down onto the mattress, spreading your thighs to kiss around your heat. his teeth magically unbutton the body suit you struggled to clasp together. amazed, you moan out when you feel his teeth graze your cunt through your thin lace panties. he pushes your thighs apart as he kisses and licks you through the thin material.

letting go of your legs, he rips your panties off and licks a long stripe from the top to the bottom of your clit. he sucks at the sensitive area, whimpering and gasping at the taste of you.

your pussy clenches and convulses around his tongue while your thighs attempt to shut around his long haired head. his brown hair is damp with sweat, using his free hand to brush his hair back. he bites at your clit, making your legs twitch. “yuta, stop— please,” you whimper with watery eyes while your orgasm threatens to approach.

he only groans in response, sucking harder and flicking his tongue faster up and down your entire cunt. your orgasm approaches; you release all over the area where a beard would sit.

his stronger hands make impact with your pussy, your body jolting in response. “stop fucking moving. i’m gonna use you how i see fit, am i clear, y/n?”

“but i-“

“but i don’t care. don’t make me tie you down.”

his dark eyes lock into yours, making your heart jump in fear and excitement for what’s about to come. your legs force themselves open while yuta strokes himself slightly and lines his cock up with your soaked, sore cunt. in one thrust, he’s all the way in, giving yourself no time to adjust. he places his hand on your mouth to block out all sound from you. “yeah, keep that fuckin’ mouth shut. only thing you’re good for is this pussy.”

he lands another sharp slap on your cunt, making you cry out. your back arches upward and you could’ve swore you just saw your brain from how hard your eyes rolled back. “gonna toss out your birth control and fill you up every. fucking. day.” with every word, he pulls out completely, then thrusts harder back into you. your body shivers and your toes curl at the contact. with your back arched up, he takes the opportunity to remove his hand from your mouth and undo your entire set, stripping you completely naked.

after he’s satisfied with the scene before him, he slaps your right tit, then your left, then the right. the muscle turns red and you wince out in pain. he leans down to suck and lick at the area, earning a gasp from you.

“don’t cum in me, please!” you beg. you absolutely need him to breed you— it’s a staple in your’s and yuta’s sex life. it wasn’t sex if he didn’t full you up by the end of it.

“shut the fuck up. the last time i checked, sluts like you don’t care about getting pregnant, hm? they just sleep around and wait for someone to empty their cum into their loose pussies, yeah? that what you are?”

“n-no.” your eyebrows furrow in anger at the words he throws at you. the expression on your face doesn’t match the expression your pussy displays. you’re throbbing and swallowing him in, unknowingly cumming around him for the -nteenth time.

“yeah, you are. say it with me.” his tone softens as he talks you through the most vulgar words, waiting for you to say the words.

“i’ll call someone if you don’t let me go.”

“who are you gonna call, darling? the cops? i’ll make them watch.” he slaps the left side of your face, leaving a red handprint on your glossy skin.

“open your legs. don’t make me repeat myself,” you force your shaky legs open while yuta continues his assault on your sore pussy. the lewd moans he lets out makes your head fuzzy. “so fucking tight. even after i fucked you for hours,”

his thrusts slow, then they continue at a rough and fast pace. his fingers are hooked into the right side of your mouth like a dental clamp. your teeth are covered in your own arousal.

he repositions the both of you to where you’re both facing the camera. he cups your jaw, making you watch him fuck you through the camera. you connected your phone to the tv, so you’re both seen on the screen.

“say hi to your fans, bitch. we’re on live.”

somehow, yuta managed to switch to a livestream, the comments being flooded with a sweaty face emoji and thirsty comments. he pounds into you while you’re both whining and whimpering, holding your hair back to push you deeper onto his length.

“n-no, yuta, let me go!”

you’re cut off by a sharp slap on your ass. “one more chance. say hi.”

“h- fuck, i can’t!”

you watch the views go up dramatically, while yuta smiles manically.

12.7M VIEWS

3.7M COMMENTS

1.27M GIFTS

cznniehoe: man im tryna get my coochie stretched too

johnnysuh: no sharing?

jaehyun: hot

marklee: dude this is so hot

taeil: bro what let me get some

taeyong: BOW BOW BOW BOW BOW THATS THAT BOOTY MEAT

the views only increase, making your heart clench at nervousness.

“say hi to jaehyun for me.”

“i can’t—“ another slap to your right ass cheek, already forming a bruise. he pulls you off of him, watching yours and his cum drip down his cock and your thighs. “h-hi jaehyun,”

jaehyun: hello pretty girl

“there you go. wasn’t so hard was it?” yuta leans over to grab the camera and angle it at your face. it’s at selfie level as you stare at your own arousal on your face and the mascara on your cheeks. your lips are puffy and red with strands of hair on your face.

you look like yuta’s bitch.

[withlovemark]

hiii hear me out on this since requests are open! there's a bunch of big boob reader stuff out there, but what about reader w smallish boobs and yuta?? like reader is insecure abt them but yuta makes her feel better w lots of boob play and stuff help this wording is awkward but hope u know what im saying thank u!

oooohh i genuinely think yuta is a small boob lover :3 i have no evidence to back this up it’s just a feeling i get

-

the first time yuta! saw your breasts, you hid them under your arms, shying away, cheeks pink from embarrassment as you refused to look at him, “don’t do that, sweetheart,” yuta forcefully pried your hands out of the way, locking them in his and bringing it above your head. your back arching at the stretch while he drank in your appearance, perky nipples sitting perfectly on your chest, “you’re perfect,” he reassures you, one of his hands traveling down your body, softly tracing the small outlines of your breasts in adoration, the warmth of his fingers mixed with the cool metal of his rings leaving goosebumps behind. “yuta, please,” you wanted him to do something, becoming more shy the longer he stares at you. he smirks down at you squirming under his hold before kitten licking your hardening nipples, maintaining eye contact with you as you whine under his touch, back arching even more. his finger finds its way around your tits, squeezing and twisting, making you jump under him, hips raising. his mouth found its way to the other side, sucking, tongue swirling around your nipple. “hmmm,” he moans around your tits, loving the way your petiteness fits entirely in his mouth, sucking and biting harder and harder, making sure he leaves a mark. your eyes flutter shut at his actions, embarrassment fading away, focused only on how he was making you feel. once he was satisfied, he moved on to the other, giving it the same amount of love and adoration, whines of pleasure encouraging him as he left trails of his saliva all over your chest.

[sweetfushi]

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST.

GENERAL HEADCANONS.

jjk men as househusbands - fluff.

KENTO NANAMI.

him as your clingy husband - fluff. embodiment of a dream (fic) - fluff, angst.

TAGS. kento nanami x female!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, angst, mentions of scars and burns, established relationship, nostalgia, a lot of just nanami reflecting on his life and being so utterly in love with you.

how they kiss you - fluff, suggestive so 16+. wearing pheromone perfume around them - fluff, suggestive so 16+. his domestic habits - fluff. you and his vampirism - fluff, suggestive so 16+. comforting them when they’re feeling insecure - angst, hurt/comfort. pampering you after a long day - fluff. comforting you on your period - fluff.

SATORU GOJO.

him as your clingy husband - fluff. how they kiss you - fluff, suggestive so 16+. their reaction to learning that you always sleep hugging a pillow - fluff. wearing pheromone perfume around them - fluff, suggestive so 16+. through heaven and hell (fic) - fluff, angst.

TAGS. satoru gojo x reader, fluff, angst, self-deprecation, major character death, feelings of loneliness and unworthiness, descriptions of gore and burns.

gojo and his pregnant wife - fluff. playfighting you for a kiss - fluff. vampire!satoru - fluff, angst. comforting them when they’re feeling insecure - angst, hurt/comfort. pampering you after a long day - fluff.

TOJI FUSHIGURO.

him as your clingy husband - fluff. pranking him by not saying “i love you too” - fluff. how they kiss you - fluff, suggestive so 16+. their reaction to learning that you always sleep hugging a pillow - fluff. wearing pheromone perfume around them - fluff, suggestive so 16+. grumpy x sunshine | part 2 - fluff. pampering you after a long day - fluff.

RYOMEN SUKUNA.

being a girl dad - fluff. their reaction to learning that you always sleep hugging a pillow - fluff. wearing pheromone perfume around them - fluff, suggestive so 16+. stealing his robes - fluff.

SUGURU GETO.

your son interrupting a kiss - fluff. how they kiss you - fluff, suggestive so 16+. their reaction to learning that you always sleep hugging a pillow - fluff. wearing pheromone perfume around them - fluff, suggestive so 16+. comforting them when they’re feeling insecure - angst, hurt/comfort.

SHIU KONG.

how they kiss you - fluff, suggestive so 16+.

CHOSO KAMO.

their reaction to learning that you always sleep hugging a pillow - fluff.

YUTA OKKOTSU.

asking him if he still loves you - fluff, hurt/comfort.

YUJI ITADORI.

he’s scared of losing you - angst.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

coming home late to find you sleeping - fluff.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).