#i was feeling some sorta way last night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 3 months

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❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

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

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol) | part one | part three | part four

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,”

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly.

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,”

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home.

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek.

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,”

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close.

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?”

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips—

RING. RING. RING.

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams.

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out.

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then.

Probably not. That would be far too lucky.

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed.

It was too much of a risk.

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs—

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you.

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky.

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now.

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other.

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking.

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream.

Perfect.

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,”

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?”

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?”

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?”

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here.

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy.

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began.

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?”

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?”

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—”

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive?

Fucking unfair.

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what?

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,”

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,”

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,”

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,”

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of.

“And I want us to do that—”

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?”

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over.

It didn’t.

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk.

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.”

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter?

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see.

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea, most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,”

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library.

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,”

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer.

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence.

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression.

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—”

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,”

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, “Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes.

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward.

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,” you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one.

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew.

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you calling me self absorbed?”

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,”

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped.

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears,

God he’s even pretty when he blushes.

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,”

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,”

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?”

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?”

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus.

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?”

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,”

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester.

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students.

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,”

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.”

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over.

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students.

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material.

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right?

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else.

Something you knew very well.

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you.

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?”

You blink, “how’d you know that?”

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds.

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,”

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?”

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,”

“What students?”

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,”

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium.

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly.

“No,” and he only smiles wider.

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,”

“I’m not—“

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,”

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again.

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,”

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,”

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started.

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you.

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since.

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing?

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you.

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best.

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was.

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester?

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst.

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross.

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,”

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand?

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,”

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?”

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you.

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?”

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,”

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning?

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for?

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks.

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,”

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery.

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly.

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions.

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide.

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you.

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms.

God, this wasn’t a dream was it?

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you.

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he—

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?”

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,”

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?”

Your blood runs cold. Fuck.

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity.

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?”

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?”

“Nothing,” you insist.

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him.

Nothing good ever came from your want.

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze.

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be.

“I’m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade, “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add.

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,”

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow.

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,”

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?”

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,”

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,”

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?”

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him.

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,”

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter.

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about.

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep).

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions.

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days.

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work.

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook.

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him.

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down.

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week.

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,”

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?”

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise.

So you make the decision for both of you.

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do. He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor.

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter.

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?”

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?”

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone.

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly.

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,”

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.”

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him.

But why did it hurt so goddamn much?

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.

Was it really not a big deal to him?

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two.

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.”

Just fine.

“There was a problem with your reservation,”

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed.

One. Bed.

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town.

“There is a couch though,” he offers, pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone.

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?”

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show?

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders.

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down.

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head.

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,”

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?”

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,”

“We’re both adults—“

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation.

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone.

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,”

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,”

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?”

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower.

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not).

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin.

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry.

Oh. My. God.

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door.

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him.

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek.

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground.

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open.

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,”

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,”

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it.

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face.

This was going to be a long weekend.

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see.

Fuck his life.

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor.

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once.

God, he sighed, it was such a mess.

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem.

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water.

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most.

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds.

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth.

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water. Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat.

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out.

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you.

It didn’t.

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep.

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in.

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he?

Not when it was you.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack.

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side.

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar.

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck.

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do.

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,”

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him.

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink.

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?”

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,”

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?”

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t.

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t.

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,”

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,”

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside.

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,”

“Professor—“

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.”

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,”

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,”

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs.

“Of him?”

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,”

“Not your type?” he asks.

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car.

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders.

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?”

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur.

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters.

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be—

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,”

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,”

“No—“

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,”

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,”

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,”

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same.

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep.

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it.

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it.

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop.

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight.

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep.

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight.

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely.

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title?

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he?

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman.

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair?

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut.

Just for a moment.

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you.

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor.

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect.

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine.

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet.

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow.

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you.

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto.

So much for sticking to your sides.

Fuck.

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard.

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with.

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with.

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him.

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM.

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM?

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs, jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed.

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s.

Fuck.

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart.

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him.

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning.

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist.

Fuck.

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now.

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away?

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?”

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down.

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats.

Could this possibly get worse?

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car.

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead.

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand.

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck.

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down.

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help.

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go.

But you didn’t know how to begin to.

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed.

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone.

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be.

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head.

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this?

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,”

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention.

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone.

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh.

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,”

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp.

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well.

And you realize how close you are to him.

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either.

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go.

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again.

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity.

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut.

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat.

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried.

RING. RING. RING.

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality.

The department head.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.”

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start.

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken.

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you.

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed.

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake.

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart.

Was this fate versus free will?

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart.

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto —

And so maybe he should let it.

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper.

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open.

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words.

Just as you always were it seemed.

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop?

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try.

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?”

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,”

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?”

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?”

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself.

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this.

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that.

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A.

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor.

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was.

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,”

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,”

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,”

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end?

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?”

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent.

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-”

“It was unspoken—”

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—”

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—”

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle.

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch.

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—”

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile.

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?”

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist.

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?”

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—”

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open.

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need.

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?”

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—”

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip.

RING. RING. RING.

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—”

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,”

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again.

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body.

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?”

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @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, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

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

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idunnoausersname · 8 months

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#vent post do not reblog #just... ugh.#jokes on me. ive been seeing this guy for nearly 2 years now #i know he doesn't want this to go further. that's fine. I'm okay with how things are rn #which is that we talk everyday #(including about personal/deep things)#and have Adult Happy Funtime on the reg.#i know oxytocin is one hell of a drug. and this is my first semi-sorta-not-really relationship #(though i sometimes think “if we are good friends who sleep together whats the difference?”)#anyway. he was saying some things i wont repeat #but he kinda leaned into me being “his” last night #plus hes been flirty and happy about everything #even told his sister about me. huuuuge step forward #so i with my stupid head asked him afterwards if he meant it. and he got real awkward about it #🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 je suis une dumbass.#im like a cartoon character who keeps running into a wall hoping that this time it'll be a tunnel #hes made his feelings on actually making things official in any way perfectly clear. those feelings are terror and anxiety #and here i go poking the hornets nest and getting hurt #sigh.#he basically kinda said that dirty talk like that ''helps get me there'' but like bro. you know im interested in you #and we didnt roleplay or anything i thought it was for realsies #anyway. now that i got myself tearing up ill go to work #if anyone has advice id like to hear it #tho i wont respond in the next couple hours #also ill delete this later. i just had to get it off my chest #UGH.

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veiledfox · 9 months

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} The past couple weeks have been odd for me

#yes I'm gonna do this in tags cause I know no-one really cares about my ooc stuff and no-one reads the tags on them #but the last few nights I've had my mind start to delve into the usual self-hating / self-loathing / insecure / depressed thoughts #that's nothing new #but what is new is that in the last few nights when those feelings have started to rear their heads I've started countering sometimes #last night specifically I can remember having one thought but it sorta just paused part way through then I had a counter thought?#then I started to remember some things that've been going on recently and while I still didn't really feel better I did stop that thought #but during the day I think back on it and I remember how I just... don't know if those events have any actual significance?#I don't know if it's genuine or if it's just my mind making things up when they might just be doing stuff they do normally #and I know this is the typical thing of 'self-doubting person just thinking they're being nice' kind of thing #but that's also just... how my brain's been wired for most of my life after being treated like the most unwanted person during school #so I just... can't comprehend the idea of someone having genuine interest #but even still just having that thought of those things that happened it's... actually been stopping some of the negative thoughts I have

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ayyy-pee · 3 months

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Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Summary: After waiting all this time to have you, Suguru finally gets to taste you in a whole new way.

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Fem Reader

** A sorta Part 2 of Do Not Answer **

Story Warning: Post Partum Sex, LACTATION KINK!!!, Smut, Milk Drinking (Suguru), Mutual Masturbation, Female and Male Masturbation, Profanity because I can only be me, Sprung Suguru, Primal Play/Marking, Creampie, A Sprinkle of Breeding Kink, Fingering, Fingersucking, Sensitive and caring Sugu, Needy Reader and Needy Suguru, Missionary, Cowgirl, Dripping Titties, Got Milk??, Threats of violence sorta, Domestic Suguru

WC: 5.6k

Divider Cred: @hitobaby

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Baby…”

“Suguru, I promise. I’m sure. I’m ready. Besides, the doctor said we could…” You loop your arms around his neck, watching worry etched across his face slowly begin to fade. “I’ll let you know if I need to stop.”

The deep frown lines between his brows disappear, expression softening as he peers down at you. Since you’d returned from your most recent appointment, Suguru had been on edge, tenser than ever. But that’s been his baseline mood for the last nine months anyway. Though, today was worse than others.

Suguru knew this moment was coming and on a normal day, he’d be looking forward to it. He’d be jumping for joy at the prospect of having you. However, all he can think about is how terrible he’ll feel if he ends up hurting you. He runs one hand gently along your thigh in soothing motions, and he’s not really sure if the act is to ease your mind or his.

You’ve been beaming, going on about doing this from the moment you’d left the doctor’s office, all smiles and eager eyes. Suguru told himself he’d resist, give you more time even as you chirped an excited “I can’t fucking wait!” in the car.

But as Suguru stares down at you, all soft and beautiful lying in bed in your cute little silk nightdress, he knows he’ll give in to you no matter what. He’s weak for you. Always has been. It’s why he couldn’t let you go when he’d left jujutsu society. It’s why he took the risk of trying to win you back.

And it’s easy to give you everything you want and more when you gaze up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. He really should have known from the moment he settled his hips between your legs that all you had to do was ask and he would be yours. It’s always been that way when it comes to you.

Suguru brings his face down to yours, runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours and like a reflex, you tilt your chin up to meet him. He watches your eyes flutter closed, lips pursed with anticipation. And just before your mouths collide, he stops.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks again, slight panic in his voice.

He’s certain he doesn’t sound like himself. He’s full of nerves, voice trembling the closer you get. But you roll your eyes playfully with a giggle and it calms him just a bit. “Suguru, just kiss me,” you whisper against his mouth.

His lips meet yours hesitantly. His kisses are careful. Tender, like he’s afraid he’ll break you if he devours your lips the way he truly desires.

His hand squeezes your plush thigh and a soft whimper falls from his mouth and into yours. When you moan back into him, the sound sends tingles up his spine, making his legs shake ever so slightly. It’s been some time since you’ve made noises like that, and it does something to him. That, and the combination of your little makeout session currently happening. Suguru is struggling to keep it together. You’ve barely been kissing and he’s trying to resist pressing his hips roughly into yours. He so desperately wants you.

See– Suguru has been waiting months to be able to touch you like this again. To have you like this again. Nine long months actually.

Six weeks ago, you’d given birth to your son, the perfect blend of you and him.

Your pregnancy had been unexpected and if Suguru’s math was right, he’s pretty sure it happened the night he’d crawled through your dorm window at the school and begged you to leave with him. It’s been almost a year since you’d abandoned all of your beliefs and hopes to fully stand alongside him as a curse user.

After not being able to touch you for so long, just when he’d finally gotten you back, he found himself right back at square one.

But, the payoff was worth the wait.

Not long after your defection, you’d come to Suguru in the early hours before he was to meet with the monkeys lined up outside the monastery. Your eyes were rimmed red, evidence of your tears as you stood before him. You looked ill, and you had been for some days. This had Suguru worrying. You’d been having such a hard time coping with the choice you’d made already.

And it likely didn’t help that Yaga ripped you a new one days after your defection had become clear. Satoru had given you hell via text, promising to end you both if he saw either of you again.

But Suguru could not have gave less of a fuck about his ex friend’s empty threats. He did, however, care about how much it affected you. It only took a few weeks for your health to decline, for you to be sick and in bed most of the day. Suguru truly believed this to be depression settling in for you. The same had happened for him. He couldn’t help but be concerned.

On the days you felt well enough to be out, you opted to be without him. And because old habits die hard, Suguru had of course had curses following you in the shadows. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. Which was even more worrisome to him.

Where was the fiery attitude he so loved about you? Where was the woman who gave him absolute hell if he overstepped?You were nowhere to be found.

His mind began eating away at him as he tried to find reasons for your sudden change. Perhaps you had decided to return to the school and leave him behind again? Maybe you were beginning to regret your choice… Regret him?

Well, that would just be unacceptable. Suguru could not imagine what he would do if this were the case. He’d already risked everything to have you again. To beg you to leave with him and give up all you’d known to join him in his fight. It still took convincing even after you’d joined his cause. Now you may be entertaining the idea of leaving again?

Suguru lost his mind the first time he thought he lost you.

This time, he thinks he would destroy everything and everyone in his path if he lost you again.

Luckily for him, and everyone else, all of his worries melted away when you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently and told him the news. “I know this wasn’t the plan, Suguru. I know we were going to move forward with…” you paused, choosing your words carefully, because you never knew who could be listening. “Celebrating Christmas Eve.”

He knew what you were referring to, of course.

“I don’t care about any of that.” Because he didn’t. Even as his heart roared in his ears, all he could think about was the gift you were giving him; the blessing that was now going to be coming.

A child – His child. With you. The perfect heir to his legacy.

But pregnancy had not been good to you and you spent a good majority of it uncomfortable and sick. And so, Suguru had been reluctant to initiate intimacy with you. Not because he didn’t find you attractive anymore. It was truly the opposite. In fact, Suguru found you so incredibly enticing during your pregnancy that he was afraid he’d hurt you if you became intimate. He feared he would not be able to fight his urges to fuck you through the bed if he had you.

Seeing you all round and soft? It had his dick aching. He found himself showering three, sometimes four times a day, fisting his cock as he imagined all the ways he wanted to have you. It was embarrassing, the way his body reacted to the simple sight of you. So, he had to find some sort of outlet. You were already struggling so much with your pregnancy. He couldn’t add onto that, be the reason you had more discomfort than you were already dealing with.

Now, you’re six months postpartum and you’ve been an absolute angel. You’re glowing, the epitome of beauty, ethereal almost. Motherhood has only made Suguru fall even more in love with you.

The doctor has finally given you the green light to be intimate again. Though, with a warning to be careful as the risk of becoming pregnant again is incredibly high right now. Somehow, the thought makes Suguru even harder if possible. Some sick part of him wants to bury himself as deep as possible. Breed you again and again. Pump you full of his seed and have you round with him as many times as he can.

A tiny groan escapes Suguru as he deepens the kiss, lips slotting sloppily against yours. Every moan he pulls from you is making it more and more difficult for him to resist pressing his hips against yours, strip you of this flimsy little fabric and make love to you until you can only think of him. The same way he only thinks of you. His hand glides up your smooth thigh, slipping beneath your gown and up to your waist.

He finally breaks the kiss, and the gentleness does not make a bit of difference because you’re both left gasping for air between each other. Suguru’s eyes roam down your body ravenously, every new dip and curve gifted to you by your newfound motherhood so goddamn enticing. Even moreso, when he feels it…or doesn’t feel it, rather.

“You’re not wearing panties,” he mumbles, more as an observation than a question. He pulls his hand from beneath your dress to glide over the smooth material of your silky gown along your stomach, up to the valley of your breasts.

You shake your head, a cheeky grin spreading along your face. “Didn’t think I’d need them.”

Suguru hums, hooking a finger into the cup of your gown and tugging down. He watches with heated desire as your supple breast falls free from its confines. So round and full. He can’t help but run his tongue along his lips.

“Did you pump before bed?” He asks. He cups your breast gently in his palm, biting down on his bottom lip when you sigh a soft no, followed by a quiet gasp. Suguru clicks his tongue, delicately squeezing the tender flesh and honing in on the small pearlescent bead of liquid that forms at the tip of your pert nipple. His heated gaze watches as your eyes fall shut, back arching as you press your breast further into his touch.

Suguru has watched you pump many times. Watched you breastfeed and has always wondered about this–what it tastes like. It’s not as though he’s picky when it comes to ingesting things. He’s a curse eater, after all. He’s sure your breast milk tastes heavenly. Everything he’s tasted from you has never been anything but delectable. But this…this is new. This is something he’s never had from you. But he will soon.

He must have every part of you.

“You okay?” Suguru asks, gaze locked on the warm liquid cascading down your breast. He meets your gaze and because you know him so well, you nod almost immediately. He dips down to wrap his lips around your hardened bud, pulling another sigh from you, a little louder this time.

The rush of liquid filling his mouth surprises him at first, only for a second. Then he takes his time to taste you. Your milk is rich. Sweet. Buttery. But there’s an aftertaste there that’s so incredibly intoxicating, it has Suguru’s eyes rolling straight to the back of his head. It shocks him, the way this taste travels straight to his cock, and has him painfully erect to the point that he lets out a garbled moan against your breast.

It only takes him a few seconds, after more than a decade of knowing you, training with you, fighting beside you that he realizes this taste is your cursed energy. And it has his dick is pulsing between his legs.

‘How delightful’, he thinks. To fully have you like this. To be able to literally taste the essence of your being. To consume what makes you superior to all others in this world.

What makes you powerful.

What makes you a sorcerer.

The thought alone makes him want to fucking cum in his pants right this second.

But he can’t. He needs to reel it in. At least, long enough to please you. He takes a deep breath, swallows what’s in his mouth. And just in time, because you roll your hips up into his and he has to pull back with a quiet hiss. The heat of your core meeting his clothed erection has his legs quivering already. It’s pathetic.

He peers down at you, strands of hair stuck messily to his wet cheeks. Under the soft moonlight peeking in through your bedroom windows, he can just make out the way your chest heaves with shaky breaths, the slight parting of your lips as you stare lustfully up at him. His gaze trails down to your other breast, now soaking through your gown, your milk having leaked while he was giving all his attention to your other breast.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Suguru whispers sweetly, hooking his finger into the other cup and pulling it down. “I spent so much time on one, I forgot the other.”

His hand cups your soaked breast, a thumb brushing gently over your erect nipple and you gasp again.

“Sugu…” you whine, hands coming up to grab hold of his shoulders.

“You okay?”

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage, eyes fluttering closed as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and index finger. “Sensitive.”

Suguru hums, slowly brushing his thumb over your nipple again, groaning when he elicits the same reaction from you.

‘So responsive’, he thinks. You’ve always been, but it seems you’re increasingly so today.

When Suguru slides his wet tongue over your nipple just before taking the peak into his mouth, you squeeze down on his shoulders, a choked sob falling from your lips.

“Oh, I love that sound you make,” Suguru breathes against your breast. He drinks greedily from you, savoring every little tingle the taste of your cursed energy sends up his spine, every little mewl you let out. He’s sure his skin is covered with goosebumps.

This must feel like sweet relief for you. Your body melts into his as he mouths at you, slurps you up, devours you and all you have to offer.

You’re delicious.

And Suguru means that literally.

When your hands tangle in his hair and pull him up from your nipple with a loud pop, it’s only then that he realizes he’s been so focused on your breasts that he damn near forgot about you.

Panting, he stares down at you. He’s certain he looks all kinds of disheveled – lips swollen and glistening, chin dripping, eyes glazed over.

And you, you only stare back at him lovingly – eyes full of arousal, hungry and wanting, lip swollen from biting down on it in attempts to stifle your moans. You bring a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently. You swipe your thumb along his chin, collecting whatever liquid resides there. It’s sweet, cute that you’re wanting to clean him up. But then you press your thumb to his lips, your mouth falling open as you slide the digit past the threshold until you reach his tongue. You peer up at him expectantly. So Suguru wraps his lips around your thumb and greedily sucks the remaining drops of your milk from your thumb.

Your other hand wraps around him, fingers delicately tracing a line up and down his back and Suguru releases a muffled groan.

“I want you,” you whisper and you grind your hips into his again. He can feel your arousal through the fabric of his boxers. He can’t even stop his own hips from rutting desperately into yours and you whine softly, “Please.”

He can hear the desire in your voice. It shoots straight to his dick and the throb that follows has Suguru wincing.

There you are. There’s his girl. So fucking needy for him like you’ve always been. He loves it when you get like this. And it’s been so long since you’ve begged for him that he has to resist yanking his pants down and sliding right into your dripping cunt.

He’s so hard for you, wants to fuck you until you can’t stand. But he has to remember, you may not be ready for that. He needs to be careful with you, take his time so as to not hurt you.

“You sure?” He asks, just one more time. For his own peace of mind.

You fix him with a deadpan look, much like the one you gave him the night he’d climbed through your window and threatened to splatter your little boyfriend’s insides along the streets of Tokyo.

“Okay,” he acquiesces, a small smirk playing on his lips. He loves your little attitude.

He’ll take his time with you, let you get used to this again because god knows he’s gonna need a second or else he’ll be losing himself to you in no time. He dips his head down, lips finding your neck and pressing soft kisses before he lightly sucks at your skin, making quick work of leaving a mark.

In the morning, when you’re getting ready for the day, he knows he’ll receive your wrath and it will have been worth it. Suguru loves to mark you up, though it pisses you off. He only cares that it signifies to everyone that lays eyes on you that you belong to him and him alone.

His possessiveness takes over, makes him bite down on the already tender spot on your neck and you cry out, which only makes Suguru moan against you.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he nuzzles against your throat, nipping and sucking lightly as he goes.

“More,” you whimper, and your fingers trace down his bare chest, along his abdomen until they reach the waistband of his boxers. You slip your hand inside, finding his cock with ease and wrapping your hand around him.

The sensation makes Suguru buck into your fist, a weak cry falling from his lips as he thrusts himself into your hand.

“Baby…” he whines into your neck. “Fuck, wait–”

But you don’t listen. You pump his cock, matching his rhythm as you throw your head back with a soft moan.

Suguru slips a hand between the two of you, cupping your pussy and groaning when he feels how soaked you are. It’s probably for the best that you ditched your panties tonight. He runs a finger through your folds, finding your clit and massaging circles around the sensitive nub teasingly.

You’re writhing beneath him, keening quietly into the air as you stroke his cock and let Suguru mark your skin as he pleases. He’s moved onto your chest now, lips back on your nipples and he suckles any drop of milk he can get from you.

The sounds coming from you are driving him insane. The sounds coming from him are almost foreign. He’s never heard himself sound like this before, so desperate, so needing, so fucking in love with you. He wants more, wants to hear more, wants to feel more.

He breaks free of your breasts and crushes his lips against yours. When you gasp in surprise, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth while simultaneously slipping a finger easily inside of you. Your movements pause, a sharp intake of breath making Suguru pull back.

“You okay?” He asks, panic clear in his voice. “We can stop.”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You begin pumping him again, smirking when you see the way Suguru’s jaw clenches, how his hips stutter slightly. “It’s been awhile. Keep going.”

Suguru is a little hesitant. This is exactly what he was worried about. He knew you weren’t ready. He should stop –

His thoughts are interrupted when you squeeze the head of his cock, his precum adding enough lubrication to make the sensation dizzying for him. He has to catch himself on his free arm.

“Goddamn,” he grits, pulling his finger back just slightly before burying it knuckle deep inside you again. “Fuuuucking stroke my cock.”

You have your fist tightly wrapped around his length, twisting and pumping him just the way he likes. Like you haven’t missed a beat. You gaze up at him, all flushed cheeks and eyes glazed over in bliss as Suguru slips one more finger into you.

“Like this?” You ask innocently and Suguru leans down to press a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips.

“Just like that,” he pants against your lips. “You’re s– ah – so good at that. Good fucking girl, ” he praises.

It goes on like this for some time, you and Suguru getting each other off. He feels as though his nerves are on fire, skin prickling as the pleasure begins to take over. He wants to cum so fucking bad. Wants to coat your little hand in his load and have you use it to keep jacking him off. But nothing is getting him off more than the idea of being inside of you right now. Though, he knows he’ll have to take it slow.

“I need to fuck you now,” he grunts roughly. “Need you so bad.”

He pulls his fingers from your core, chucking low when you whine at the loss. He reaches down to his waistband and you let go of him as he pushes his boxers down, working them off until he can kick them across the floor.

“You ready for me?” He asks, kissing you messily again. He settles between your legs, brows knitting when your bare cores finally meet. It’s so hot. Literally, he can feel the heat radiating from your pussy and the anticipation of your answer is killing him. You’re already drenched, coating him with your slick arousal. He wants to be inside of you. Please don’t deny him.

“I’m ready, baby.” You reach down between your bodies and take him in your hand again, position his tip at your entrance. “Please fuck me.”

He nods. Your eyes are locked as Suguru eases forward. It’s a tight fit, and Suguru doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to get all the way in without blowing his load.

“Oh god,” he groans. “Fucking tight as shit, baby. Fuck.”

He keeps going, pushing in and parting your walls with difficulty even though your core drips for him. It's as if you've gotten even tighter since giving birth. Suguru has to pull back slightly several times and try again before he’s all the way in. He has his eyes squeezed shut, fists clenching the sheets tightly.

You whimper beneath him, hands having now found Suguru’s biceps and gripping on for dear life. It’s a slow, delicious, painfully snug journey through your walls. And when he finally bottoms out, he takes time to look at you. You’re biting your lip, breaths coming rapidly as you grasp onto him.

You’re so fucking beautiful like this.

He's embarrassingly hard. He wonders if you can feel it. He thinks you can, from the way you squirm beneath him.

“Good?” He asks, checking in again and you roll your eyes.

“Yes. Now fuck me.”

Suguru rears his hips back, watching as your lips part with a quiet gasp just before he rolls his hips forward. He does it again, just so he can hear you make that sound one more time. Then he does it again and again.

His movements are slow, careful. He gives you soft and languid thrusts that have you digging your nails into his arms, has him gritting his teeth so he doesn’t cum. He can hear and feel how absolutely wet you are with each agonizingly slow thrust.

It’s driving him insane to be so gentle. He wants to fuck you so bad, destroy your little pussy, bury himself so deeply inside of you he can’t fucking see straight.

And it’s like you know this, because you whisper his name. When he looks at you, you’ve got a cute little pout on your lips, glaring up at him. He tilts his head questioningly.

“Suguru, stop treating me like you're gonna break me…” You loop an arm around his neck, pulling him down into a rough, sloppy kiss before pulling back just slightly to tell him, “...fuck me like you mean it.”

And he does. Doesn’t need you to ask twice. With a deep groan, Suguru pulls his hips back, all the way until just his tip sits inside of you. Then he thrusts forward, plunging into you over and over.

Each snap of Suguru’s hips brings a new sound from you. It’s music to his ears – this mix of your mewls, his grunts and moans, his balls slapping against your sopping cunt. He’s losing himself in you, the way he always does, swallowed by your warmth.

“Ah…I- I’ve been waiting so long for this, beautiful. Been craving this - ngh - pussy for months,” Suguru rasps, dipping his head down to find your breasts. He can already see the bruises forming along your skin from where he marked you earlier and it has him choking out a soft sob. He pounds into you hard, fast, chasing his high as he watches your breasts bounce with each thrust. “Missed your pretty little cunt. Missed fucking you so bad, baby.”

He licks a long strip between the valley of your breasts, eyes rolling to the back of his head and hips stuttering when he tastes the remnants of your breast milk from earlier.

“Yeah, babe?” You ask, pressing your hands against his chest.

You move your hips against his, meeting every thrust eagerly and Suguru inhales sharply. “Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, kissing his way up to your lips. Just before he meets your mouth, you push against him and shift your weight, effectively rolling you both over so that you’re not straddling Suguru. His hands find your waist immediately.

“I missed you. So fucking much. Couldn’t wait to have you again,” you sigh as you lean down to kiss your lover. Your hips begin to move, grinding yourself down on Suguru. His back arches, the feeling of him tapping against that spongey in your walls completely overwhelming him.

“Shit.” Suguru watches you move your hips against him, feels his dick twitch within your walls at the sight. “Feel good, baby?” He asks. Because it damn sure feels good to him. Suguru thinks he may lose his mind just watching. You sit up and his eyes follow you, watching the way your kiss swollen lips part as you let out another moan when he thrusts up into you.

You can’t do anything but nod your head, your hands falling to Suguru’s chest to keep your balance as you bounce on his cock. His gaze drinks in all the dips and curves of your body until they find where you two connect. He watches as you roll your hips forward, as his cock disappears into your pussy over and over. A quiet moan rushes past your lips and Suguru’s hands find your ass while you grind down on him. You’re so wet, he can feel your arousal dripping down his cock, drenching his balls.

“Oh my god, Suguru,” you cry out quietly, halting your movements to lean down and crash your lips into his again. “Feels good, feels so fucking good,” you gasp between kisses. Suguru pushes against your ass, prompting you to keep going.

“Don’t stop, baby. Fuck me like you mean it,” he repeats your earlier words, a sly grin on his lips when he smacks your ass, making you yelp.

You sit up, lifting your hips all the way up until just the tip of his cock sits inside you. Suguru’s eyes are glued to the view and he can visibly see himself pulsing between your legs. He lets out a low hiss that quickly turns into a loud groan when you slam your hips back down on him.

“Shhhh,” you shush him. “Gonna wake up the whole compound.”

He grips your ass tighter. “I don’t give a fuck. Let them hear us.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust that has you keening loudly. He thrusts again and you let out another sharp cry. “Want them to hear me fucking the mother of my child, fucking my whole heart tonight.”

The air is filled only with the sounds of the wet slap of your hips meeting, your soft gasps and moans, the bed creaking with every hard thrust he gives you. Suguru’s eyes roll back, each pump of his cock in your pretty little cunt bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Your walls are so tight, so wet, so hot, squeezing the life out of him.

“Tell me you love me. Tell me you love my cock, baby. Tell me you missed fucking me as much as I missed fucking you.”

Your nails dig into his chest as you cry out his name, tell him all about how you craved his dick, wanted him so badly it drove you crazy some days. The feeling of his tip pressing against your most sensitive area with each pump lighting a fire in both your cores.

“Fuck, baby,” Suguru gasps, voice hoarse with arousal as he stares up at you with nothing but love in his gaze. “So sexy. Look at you. Riding my cock so good – fuck.”

“Suguru,” You gasp as he holds your hips, keeping you in place as he fucks up into you pace increasing. “I’m…I’m gonna cum, Suguru. Fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum on my dick, baby. I wanna feel it. I need to feel it,” he grunts, driving into you. He feels his balls tighten, his release approaching quickly. He tries to stave it off, but then he feels it. Feels warm droplets of liquid hitting his chest and his stomach. He follows the trail, eyes landing on your breasts and the droplets falling from your pert nipples and onto him.

The sight is so erotic, so goddamn sexy, it sends chills racing up Suguru’s spine. You, taking his dick so fucking well, your breasts coating him in your essence, the very essence he got the luxury to taste early and god, did it taste incredible. Your mouth slack and eyes pinched shut as you dissolve into pleasure on top of him.

One more drop hitting his skin.

Your walls squeezing him for all his worth.

Your mouth crying his name.

It’s enough for him to shatter beneath you, enough to trigger that first rope of cum shooting from his cock.

“Shit, oh– oh fuck, baby, I’m cumming,” Suguru sputters, holding your hips painfully tight and with one last powerful thrust, he shoves himself as far as he can go before emptying himself inside of you. His muscles tense, breathe hitching as he rides out the shockwaves of his release. Every pulse of his cock is met with your walls sucking him back in, milking every drop from him.

He thinks he’s seeing fucking stars, the muffled sound of your moans drowned out by the pure euphoria he’s experiencing right now. He doesn’t even notice that excess of cum that leaks from your core and onto his groin. He feels that damn good.

Suguru’s head falls back on the bed and his grip on you loosens, leaving you to lay your weight down on him. Both your breaths come rapidly, your matching heartbeats racing against each other’s chests. And this is Suguru’s favorite part of it all. He loves this, loves the feeling of you pressed into him, loves the feeling of you completing him.

His eyes drift shut, his fingers tracing a line up and down your spine. And for the first time in almost a year, he lets himself fully relax.

- - - - - - -

The warm beams of the early morning sun peek through the bedroom. Suguru shifts, turning onto his side to get more comfortable.

Until he realizes something is missing. His eyes shoot open and he sits up quickly in the bed, eyes roaming the room for you. When he finds no trace of you in the room, he decides it’s time for him to get up, too.

You’re likely up with the baby and he wants to help you with his morning routine.

He makes his way across the room to your master bathroom and when he opens the door, he’s met with a cloud of hot steam and the sight of you naked in front of the mirror. You’re scowling, craning your head to the side like you’re looking at something.

He sees it the moment your hand reaches up and touches your neck and your chest. You’re riddled with hickeys and bruises, marks covering almost your entire upper body. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, a murderous glare staring at him in your reflection.

And it’s not like Suguru is particularly sorry. He wants you to be all marked up and claimed so everyone knows you’re his. But that look in your eye tells him he really may be in danger here.

Luckily for him, the shrill cry of his son pierces through the tension. So he shoots you a smug grin and backs right out the door.

2K notes · View notes

devourable · 6 months

Text

your first time • yanderes x reader, part one

nsfw, minors and ageless dni ;; smut (duh), virgin top x bottom gn reader, various kinks that will be tagged per character.

ft. abraham (yandere church boy), sterling (yandere prodigy), gene (yandere hacker), tobias and sebastian (yandere best friends), and mykolas (yandere monster)

this part will just be the guys (excluding the delinquents)! i wanted to put most of my polyamorous groups as well as the girls and enbies in part two. decided last minute to change it a bit and make it sort of ambiguous as to if the reader is a virgin or not. regardless!

thanks again for 2k 🫶

the church boy — abraham atkins ;; dacryphilia, elements of sizeplay, mentions of religion

abraham thought his first time would be well into the future, after he’d gotten married at his church and whisked off to start his own family like his father before him. it was just a part of life to him, not something to really care about or look forward to; but it was supposed to happen that way. but abe… he just couldn’t resist you!

he knew he shouldve stopped you the moment you had found yourself on his lap, pinning him to his bed after what was supposed to be an sleepover had gone completely off course. and he should’ve stopped you when you got your tongue in his mouth, grinded on him, getting him hard for practically the first time in his life. he should’ve stopped things before they went too far — but he couldn’t stop you. or himself, after he started to clumsily hump you back, his hands finding and delicately groping your ass in an attempt to figure out how he could fit against you best. abe has such an innocent hunger about him, he so desperately wants more — more what, exactly? he doesn't really know. you definitely end up having to take lead because he wholeheartedly doesn't know what he's doing.

but once you coax him out of his nerves and a bit of trial and error (he absolutely wouldn't have fit in you dry; and even after you taught him how to work you open and got his dick wet enough, it was still a tight fit!), you finally, finally get him inside you. and abe, poor abe didn't even know what hit him. despite the tears tumbling down his face purely from how good you felt around him, despite the deep rooted guilt of committing such a sin with the one he loved clawing at his chest, he couldn’t help how brutally he ended up fucking you. he’d pour out all of his pent up desire into you in one night, fucking you through climax after climax till you were seeing stars too.

the prodigy — sterling cygnus ;; overstimulation, risky(ish) setting/exhibitionism

it must all be a game to you, his feelings and this weird dynamic in your relationship. even when the two of you actually start dating (…sorta), he still had it in his head that you were just trying to fuck with him. what other reason could there be to explain how he felt aside from it being your fault?

it was when the two of you were in his dorm that he actually decided to push your boundaries, see what you would let him do before your ‘facade’ finally cracked. but you didn’t stop him when he pinned you against your bed, or when he started kissing you, or when the kiss transformed into an unintentionally heated makeout session. it wasn’t until you had started to pull off your shirt and palm at him through his pants that he started to think that you might’ve actually wanted him.

sterling didn’t really know how it went so far, but he stopped caring when the absolute carnal need to just feel you took over his brain. you must’ve assumed that he didn’t know how to make you feel good because he’s inexperienced, right? no? well, he doesn’t believe you. and to ensure you do, you’re not getting out of that dorm until he’s made you cum on him again, and again, and again. you’d have to think he’s playing with you at some point with how often he switches between fucking you and fingering you — he insists on making you cum both ways as many times as you can handle. he’s rattling the walls and got you sobbing his name so loud that no doubt the entire dorm can hear you (the walls were never that thick to begin with anyway). he relishes in not only knowing he’s completely claimed you, but now all of your colleagues will know too. he doesn’t care how much of a mess he’s making with your insides or how much of him spills out of you, nor does he care if you’re exhausted and sore from the waist down. you’re not done until he’s done with you — and being the overachiever he is, who knows when that’ll be? he’d hate to leave you thinking he’s anything but your number one.

the hacker — gene eliades ;; a lil dubcon-y, filming w/o reader’s knowledge

gene had waited for you to make a move on him first, he really did. he even tried enticing you in his own way, always sitting with his legs open so you could see the very clear outline of his dick through his pants, sitting you on his lap when he was working and keeping a hand on your body at all times. he’d kiss you, tell you how crazy you drove him, anything to give you an idea of what he wanted. but you never took that extra step and it left him wondering if it was because you were toying with him or if you really were that dense. either way, he had had enough, and after one particular day where the need burning in the pit of his stomach just wouldn’t go away, he decided that he wouldn’t wait anymore.

when you tried to slip off of his leg to do something, his arm curled around your waist and pulled you square into his lap, making sure you felt every inch of his erection against your ass. you were so irresponsible, constantly getting him riled up and never doing anything about it. did you even like him at all? regardless of your answer he was already sliding his hands under your clothes, groping your chest with one and working your bottoms down with the other.

it was unceremonious, the way gene bent you over his desk and buried himself up to the hilt in you before you could even voice any potential protests. but the feeling of him hitting all the right spots in you made your mind go blank, unable to do anything but moan his name every time he pulled you back against him. god, he loved hearing the way you whimpered for him, feeling you stretch around him when he fucked you just a bit too hard, the way your hips fit so nicely in his hands.

it was a good thing you were too fucked out to notice the little light next to his webcam aimed down at you. you wouldn’t mind if you did, he assumed — there was nothing wrong with wanting to remember this moment later, was there?

the boys next door — tobias & sebastian ;; double penetration, threesome

the pair had fantasized about losing their virginity to you years before it actually happened. the amount of times they’d gotten each other off with your name falling from their lips was too many to count, but god knows it just wasn’t enough for the two. but they never acted on those feelings, not until they had planned out the day to ensure it would be perfect.

you did find it a bit suspicious that the first time you were all free for the weekend at the same time was on the night that toby’s parents went out for an unplanned vacation, but you easily overlooked it when the pair offered you a sleepover (for old time’s sake!), bribed with promises of your favorite snacks and whatever movies you wanted to watch. you were sandwiched between the two in your best friend’s room, oh so aware of the growing tension but unsure where it was leading to — but then toby suddenly asked to kiss you. and what you assumed would be a playful peck ended with you pinned to the bed with tobias holding your wrists while sebastian made himself comfortable between your legs.

they really like you, and they know you like them too — you wanna be their first, don’t you? be their special someone? that’s what toby’s asking between kisses while seb’s lifting your shirt and sliding a hand down the front of your pants. it wasn’t until you finally gave them the permission they’d waited so long for that the pair allowed themself to really get the night started.

toby was the first to break you in while seb held you in his lap. it was a shame the pair didn’t think to record the moment… the face you made when toby fucked into you was so cute! and the noise you made when seb slid under you to try and squeeze into you alongside toby would play in their minds over and over again. they might’ve pushed you a bit too hard, stretching you well beyond your limit without even letting you catch your breath. they just couldn’t resist! you were clamping down on them, sucking them both in like you didn’t wanna let them go. it felt so good to make you cum.

the two were still up long after you had passed out, ogling your ruined state with an undeniable urge to fuck you up even more. they saw it like a badge of honor, proof that you’d always be theirs. the two would let you rest for the time being, but don’t worry — they still had an entire weekend with you ahead, and they didn’t plan on letting you step foot outside that house till their time was up.

the beast — mykolas ;; teratophilia (duh), size difference, outercourse/thighfucking

mykolas really, really didn’t want to hurt you. he was well aware of how big he was, especially compared to you — if you got hurt because he couldn’t control himself, he wouldn’t know what to do!

all of those thoughts were completely disregarded when he started rutting, though. the poor monster couldn’t think straight with his hormones running amok, and you being you — so soft, so small, so vulnerable, it was like you were designed to torture him through the season. you’d very quickly catch on to what was happening to your monstrous partner, considering you’d often be woken up by him grinding up against your back or stomach in a desperate bid to try and relieve the borderline painfully throbbing cock that was bothering him more and more these days. and though he’d never make his needs known vocally, you could just tell — that sad, pleading look he’d give you every time you looked at his pitiful form was just begging you to take care of him.

you knew for certain that you couldn’t just fuck him in his current state. his cock practically matched the length of your torso! and with how reckless his hormones were making him, the possibility of him ‘accidentally’ making you take more than you could handle was too high, even if you did try to take control. so to work around this problem, you opted to get a bit creative with your methods.

mykolas didn’t quite understand what was going on at first when you bent over in front of him, pants pulled down to your knees. but when you guided him between your legs and clamped your thighs around his length, you could tell the switch in his brain had flipped and he completely allowed instinct to take over. you had no clue just how good it’d feel when mykolas’s hard, wet cock rutted against you relentlessly until he was gripping your waist and pulling you against him, fucking your thighs like you were his living fleshlight. but fuck, the way he managed to slide against every sensitive spot he had access to despite his carnal state was nearly driving you insane. and mykolas delighted in the way you clawed at the ground and mewled for him, your voice so pretty when you stammered out his name. it didn’t take long for either of you to cum at that rate.

despite the mess mykolas made of your thighs and stomach, though, he wouldn’t let you get off him. he’d been pent up for so long, repressing his desire to mate with you, he couldn’t just stop there! so he went again, and again, humping you in any position he could think of, pinning you down, thoroughly wrecking you as best as he could. you were gonna be in for a rough mating season now that mykie knew how to relieve himself with you — but you didn’t mind, he assumed. you were the one that showed him how to feel better, after all.

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 2 months

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Sleepover with Drunk Nanami

Nanami crashes on your couch after a drunken meeting on a rare night out.

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY. fem! Reader, Soft Nanami, drunk Nanami, slow burn (sorta? Does nine hours count?), discussions of consent, Gojo is in it also lol.

Word count: 13.9k, Ngl this one kind of got away from me 🤭🫣. Don’t have sex with drunk people! let the tension build until that consent is sober and enthusiastic.

This was inspired by the song Get Up by Ciara, and my being very horny. I haven’t written fanfic in almost ten years, so here’s what I have for you. This was so fun to write, I really hope y’all enjoy it. I am so obsessed with this man its actually insane.

Clubs were not his preferred way to “cut loose”. He hated the claustrophobic proximity, the overpriced drinks, the flagrants displays of affection, most of all the inability to hold a conversation. Resounding bass and artificial light blaring against his skull was sure to culminate in tomorrow’s headache. Nanami couldn't be bothered to entertain the idea of joining his coworkers to dance and drink as they so often invited him. He much preferred to keep his own company, drinking at home, indulging in the occasional (and strictly, personally regulated) cigarette, and reading in the bath. Although the last two weeks he found himself working around the clock. It seemed that as soon as he crossed his own home’s threshold he was back to work in some capacity or other. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to turn his brain off completely in between shifts. He hated working, period, let alone working outside of his normal hours, but the work needed to be done, and as the days trudged forward, his work life balance compounded into a singularity designed specifically to siphon any free time he could find.

But that had ended this afternoon, completing a mission’s adjoining paperwork and being released for a three day leave in between assignments. Returning to his small office, he begins to retrieve his coat and pack his bag to depart and return home to finally relax. Already feeling his shoulders unknot themselves, Nanami allowed a blissful sigh to leave his lips. No sooner had he begun to draw in the following breath than had the rapping of angular knuckles against his door frame rung in his ears. Raising his eyes, Kento sees long time (reluctant) friend and daily annoyance, Satoru Gojo, strolling casually inside and plopping across the desk from him.

“So what time should I pick you up?” Although Kento could not see his eyes behind the famous black blindfold hiding them, the blase demeanor and entitlement dripping from his question was apparent.

Already feeling the vein in his head begin to pulse, Nanami sighed out, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come out with us tonight. You’re off the ne t few days. I’m sure even you can recover from one night out in that time. Everyone is goin, Suguru, Shoko, yours truly…even Ijichi said he would come,” Gojo allows his smile to lure in the other man, “So you have to come.”

A familiar feeling rose the skin on the back of his neck as Kento heard his familiar train of thought, Absolutely not. I’m exhausted. I have to decline. Don’t wait up for me, but before the reluctance to break his own routine won over, his shoulders softened, “Okay.”

Gojo snapped to attention, his planned seduction now moot in the face of Nanami’s quick acceptance. He hadn't said yes to going out in two months, and the last time he had joined the group, he left less than an hour in claiming a headache and calling a cab.

“For real?” Gojo couldn't help himself, he was waiting for this to be a joke.

“Yes, 9:00 you’ll pick me up. We’ll go out. I could use the break. Thank you for the invitation.”

Gojo was beside himself, feeling his lips stretch from ear to ear, he rose to his feet and began to head to the door. He had to limit the time for Nanami to come to his senses, fearing this may all be some bought of madness from the usually grumpy man.

“See you then, wear something I like.”

Idiot always had to have the last word. Nanami lowered himself into his desk chair, taken aback by his own enthusiasm, a small smile creeping across his lips. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he couldn't say he was upset by it, it had been a long time since he had tried to meet his friends like this. He wasn't social by nature, and he was grateful to have people who understood that, allowing him his space but still continuing to include him in their extroverted fun. As much as Gojo’s refusal to allow him peace took its toll, Nanami was pleased to have someone so insistent on pushing his social limits. Although he would never tell him that.

These are the circumstances that lead Nanami to drinking as much as he had, to loosening his tie eventually to the point of hanging on either shoulder, to laying his jacket along the barstool of the hightop table he and his friends occupied. Dancing, actually dancing inside of the group of people gyrating together on the club’s designated dance floor. Eyes closed, hair sticking to his forehead, Kento felt the weight of fall away and the warm embrace of intoxication take over.

Gojo laughed over his dark sunglasses, nudging Geto’s elbow with his own before tipping his head to their large, very uncharacteristically drunk friend. They watched in shared admiration, laughing to each other, remembering fondly the stiff demeanor their friend had always carried. Since they’d known him they had seen him get drunk countless times, but drunk enough to dance? Only a handful. Drunk enough to have undone his top three buttons and reveal a growing flush down his neck and shoulders, maybe twice.

“He really needed this,” Geto praised Gojo lightly, it was him who always insisted on inviting out Nanami once again, despite the likely improbability of it happening.

Gojo smiled warmly before laughing again, this time to himself, he didn't want to reveal how easy it really was. How little he had had to push to get him out, he let the praise wash over him as he admired the usually stuffy man’s catharsis. Shoko returned then from the bar, two shots for herself and one for Ijichi who followed closely behind her, already starting to stumble himself.

That’s when Nanami saw you. Finally opening his eyes, pupils adjusting to the dim light, you appeared to him like a vision. And a vision you were, long legs wrapped in a skirt, a top lightly grazing the hemline at your waist, arms full and strong, hair styled specifically showcasing care and effort as well as routine. Engaged in conversation with a friend of yours, both laughing and allowing the atmosphere to relax you, Kento didn't realize his body had stopped dancing as he now stood dumbly in the center of the dancefloor. With soft pushes and thoughtless instinctual movement, he moved to the outskirts of the dancefloor, although still within sight of you. His breath caught in his chest, his hands ran cold, becoming clammy quickly as he watched you share a shot with your friend, head tipping back and revealing the full column of your neck to him. He felt his face flush further than the alcohol could.

Soon enough his back found the table that Shoko currently occupied, digging in her discarded coat’s pocket for her lighter, cigarette hanging loosely between her lips. Cooly placing her hand atop a few rattled glasses knocked around by his collision, she inquired as to Nanami’s dreamy state, “something got your attention?” her laugh broke through his haze just as she followed his eyeline to you.

“She’s pretty, you know her?” she was finally able to fish her lighter from the correct pocket.

Nanmi shook his head, still not able to tear his gaze away,” do you?”

“Never seen her before.” She observed the dumbstruck look in Nanami’s eyes weighing whether her input was more prescient than her desire for a smoke break, “You should try to talk to her. Who knows when we’ll get you out again. Make the most of it.”

With that she headed back towards the smoker’s patio, leaving Nanami with her words bouncing between his ears. When was the last time he had flirted with someone? When was the last time he had been on an actual date? When was the last time he had gotten to take someone home? When was the last time he had shared a bed with someone? When was the last time someone else had made him cum, not just himself between disgruntled days and nights working too much with little output? He had a break, he had come out, hadn't he? As he had gotten ready tonight he chastised his own mind for indulging in fantasies of meeting someone, But he didn't think he would find someone so ... .magnetic.

He wasn't even sure how long it had been since Shoko had gone outside, Kento snapped back to himself when he saw you set your drink down- nearly finished- and head into the throng of dancing bodies. His body moves before he can consciously decide how best to approach you; feet escorting him to the dance floor, hips following the beat and loosening the rest of him. His hands moved upward around his shoulders imitating a boxer’s stance, the alcohol clearly influencing his dancing style. Pressing forward he found himself just to your left. It was as though you had your own kinespheric bubble surrounding you, people danced near you but not on you. He felt invited in by this space, as though you had saved it just for him. He watched your body move, circling your hips and allowing your neck to follow the melody freely, your arms raising above your head as your eyes fluttered between completely closed and mostly closed. Your lips were parted beautifully, lip gloss catching the light so beautifully.

Maybe it was just chapstick, or it was lipstick, he had no idea, but just seeing the glint along your bottom lip made his mouth water for your kiss.

Would you use your tongue right away, or would he need to draw it out of you with his? Would you want him to guide you, or did you want to lead him yourself? He found his heart quickening at ever new possibility. When you finally allowed your eyes to open, they found him almost instantly. Locking eyes with you finally, Kento thought his skin was going to burst. Heart quickened, hand clammy, breath quick he searched for any reciprocation in your own eyes.

So when your eyes crinkle, following the line of your smile, so clearly directed right at him and only him, Kento can't resist but bring his hands to the sides of your hips.

The blonde man had been watching you since you got here. You noticed, Sophie noticed. As soon as you left the bar and staked your claim on an open hightop bordering the crowded but lively dance floor, she had jutted her chin toward him on the other side of the floor.

“Got one already.” she said impressed with your efficiency.

You turned to briefly meet his gaze, in just a second his gaze was so intense you could tell his eyes were honey brown and they were trained on you and only you, “oh come on. I’m sure he’s just checking everyone out.” you dismissed, still feeling the hot eyes on the back of your neck.

“He’s still looking at you,” Sophie marveled, “still looking…still…wow I don't think hes even trying to hide it.”

You knew. You could feel it, your heart raced. You had just barely looked at him but you had seen enough to see how attractive he was. A tall, broad frame, well cultivated outfit, neat, well styled hair, confidence and stability oozing from every pore. So clearly unabashedly interested. God, he was your type. Before you knew it most of your drink was drained, the nerves of being observed having made you suddenly parched. The liquid confidence settling in your system motivated you to pull Sophie to dance. You two found an open bubble in the sea of bodies and allowed yourself to release your lingering thoughts of the watcher.

That is, until you open your eyes once more, finding a pair of honey brown eyes begging for yours. It was him. He was less than two feet from you, he had sought you out. You couldn't help yourself, his interest and obvious enthusiasm brought a curl to your lips. Your smile locking him into a stare, you didn't flinch when you felt large, strong hands on your hips. It felt right, looking into his eyes the idea of not feeling him touch you felt preposterous. Your hips still followed the music, his soon joining their routine. His hands, once brazen, now stayed still and solid against your hips, moving with you, but never straying from their position. Emboldened by his sudden demure approach,wanting to reciprocate with just as much interested you turned, facing your back to him and pressing the curve of your ass against his hips, you thought you hear a soft groan exit his mouth. Once you had turned away from him, a bit of tension is relieved. You feel braver not looking him directly in the eye anymore. You grip onto one of his hands and trail it up your body, leaving the other gripping your hip harder and harder. Soon your back was fully against his chest, the music carried your pelvis, joined against his, everything else fell away as you guided his right hand across your body, side, hips, stomach and ass. His body felt so solid against yours, it was so solid against yours. He was an imposing figure, six foot or more, strong and cultivated build demonstrating both his personal strength and his own discipline. How you could have not noticed him here before was beyond you.

Nanami was hypnotized. From the moment you had looked him in the eye, he was hooked. Now that your body was flush against his, ass grinding into the front of his slacks, he couldn't think about anything else. He breathed hot against your ear as your fingers curled around his, sliding his fingers up from your hip to your stomach. It was so intimate, your leading his hand along your body, showing him exactly where you wanted his touch. You had your head cocked to the left, opening the side of your neck to him and moving your hair just under his nose, the smell of your shampoo was thrilling, he longed to run his fingers through your hair, to ruin your styling and pull. He wondered if you would let him brush it for you, wash it for you. He could learn exactly how you liked your routine, learn to style, learn to braid, anything to keep this smell close to him.

Behind his eyelids he wondered about your body, how your breasts would look, how your skin would flush through excitement or exertion, how wet you would get, how you would taste. He wondered, too, about your kiss, again thinking about how much tongue you would use, and if you would want to be in charge or him. A soft moan escaped his lips as he thought of your tongue sliding against his, directly against the shell of your ear. As if cued you spun around again, your leg slotted between his, allowing you both to move as one, grinding unashamed as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You can touch me yourself you know,” You could barely hear the music but Nanami knew exactly what you had said, “Or do you just like being told what to do.”

Your flirting sent a shock directly down his body, feeling his cock swell against the inside of his slacks, he slid his hands up the curves and folds of your back, your skin was so soft, he saw your lips part as he touched you. You were so reactive, he couldn't hear the caught breaths of the soft moans over the club’s speakers, but he watched as your eyes fluttered and your knees pulled tighter around him. One hand traveled down to the side of your leg, brushing down the side of your hip and ass to grip your thigh. The front strands of his hair had loosened and now hung freely in his face, a dark blush settled across his freckled nose and cheeks, one of your hands moved down his shoulder and onto his chest, he wished he had been more reckless and undone a few more buttons for you, he longed to have your fingers on his skin. But for now they held the collar of his shirt in their grasp, he longed for your eyes again, and as if you had read his find they met his own. He prayed you couldn't feel the way the eye contact had made his dick twitch, the blush deepening at the shame of being so crass in his attraction to you. Pulling him somehow even closer, he could feel your breath on his neck, he was panting a bit from the exertion of dance and the intense sexual tension. The song was beginning to end, and the DJ was already beginning to blend it with the introduction of the next song.

Seizing his opportunity, Nanami finally spoke his first words to you, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You nodded, smiling at him, he wanted to make you smile again and again, the warmth of your gazing making the stuffy club feel icy by comparison.

“Thank you!”, you moved a hand down his arm to join your hands together. Guiding him over to the bar. Your hand in his felt electric, you both could feel it. His large, work roughened palm against your own. They had fit together so naturally.

As you made your way over to the bar the music became less and less overwhelming, the pressing of bodies became less insistent. You turned your head to find Sophie, chatting to a few friends she had planned to run into, she caught your eye before giving you a knowing look and a thumbs up. You smiled and winked at her before turning back to the man behind you. You caught him at the end of turning his head from what looked to be a group of his own friends. All of whom were looking at the pair of you. One, particularly tall man with dark glasses was giving an encouraging thumbs up mirroring Sophie’s. You caught yourself wondering if your friends would get along, if he would get along with your friends, if you would get along with his. You didn't even know this man's name, you had barely spoken to him, and here you were ready to merge friend groups and make brunch plans. What the hell was going on tonight?

Finally reaching the bar right as two seats opened up, you both sat, giving your exhausted legs much needed refuge. The air between you two suddenly became thick, without the immediacy of movement you found yourself suddenly worried about how to engage him again in the heat you had just had.

“What do you like to drink?”, he started right as you offered a question of your own,

“So what’s your name..”

You both laughed for a second, the acknowledgement of shared nerves taking a little pressure off. His smile was reserved, seemingly unpracticed. But his eyes betrayed his warmth, you could see.

“Kento Nanami,” He answered your question first, fighting the urge to hold out his hand for a chaste and professional handshake. He lifted his eyebrows to signify it being your turn to answer, you told him your name, and his smile returned again, “That's a beautiful name.” he repeated it back to you, ensuring his pronunciation was correct, when in actuality he could have rolled your name in his mouth a thousand times and never tired of the taste.

“I’d love a gin and tonic,” You offered, answering his question, “Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Drinking, he was drinking. Suddenly he was aware of how much he had been drinking. Skin hot and red, probably sweating all over you, stinking of booze. He felt the embarrassment move throughout his body as he replayed his invitation to buy you a drink. Were you just being nice to him? Wanting to find a polite way to get away from him and return to your friend? He had been so casual, so unhindered.

God, he was an idiot

“Sorry to take you away from your friends, I understand if you want to go back.”He wanted to offer you an out, feeling himself try to straighten up and will the drunkenness out of him before he embarrassed you or himself further. But to his surprise, you cocked your head to the side, eyes narrowing to assess his change in demeanor. You could see right through him.

“Don’t get shy on me now, the nights just starting,” you offered a new, slyer smile, “isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, the bartender finally rounded the bar top to take your orders. Nanami ordered your drink as well as one of his own, you added on the desire for some ice water. Once the drinks were down set, you offered him a little cheers, tapping your glass against his before sipping. The drink was cool and refreshing, the perfect remedy for the heat rising in your neck and face.

He was so handsome, from his carved cheekbones speckled with freckles, you wondered if they were anywhere further down his collar. His bottom lip was full and plump, parted slightly as he tasted his drink, with his face profile to yours you could see a small pink circle on the side of his nose.

“Do you wear glasses?”, you asked.

Nanami’s brows twitched slightly together, “I do.”

“You have those little impressions on your nose. From the bridge of your glasses.” You answer, without him having asked how you could tell, “I bet you look handsome with your glasses on.”

Nanami cursed himself for leaving his glasses in his coat pocket across the bar. He’ll never make that mistake again. Bringing the chilled glass to his lips, attempting to cover his smile. He feels so seen by you, the way your eyes move over every inch of him, he doesn’t know if he’s ever been observed so closely. It’s exhilarating, it’s terrifying. You’re terrifying. You’re exhilarating. You’re still looking at him. You’re looking at him expectantly. You asked him another question and he missed it. He scrambles through the last few seconds searching for what you may have said to him, and how he possibly could have missed it.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if those were your friends over there.” You pointed over his shoulder.

Nanami turned quickly, oh god too quickly, his head spinning a bit as his equilibrium struggled to catch up. Gojo was waving at him, gesturing broadly in unintelligible charades. Nanami felt his frustration flare up at both having been distracted from you and also having to once again decipher another one of Satoru’s riddles. At the meeting of their eye line, Gojo began to move over to where the pair of you were seated, Geto and Shoko sharing the weight of a stumbling Ijichi. The head vein began pulsing again, he ought to name it after Gojo the way he sets it off. Panic set throughout his body, he didn’t want you to meet his friends— or maybe he didn’t want them to meet you. Not yet. He didn’t want to risk ruining what hadn’t yet really started. Suddenly feeling very territorial of you, he turned back, once again sending his head swimming.

“Yes. Those are my coworkers. I’m not—“

“Nanamiiiiin. We gotta take Ijichi home, he’s already thrown up twice. It’s gross.” Gojo was already halfway through his sentence before reaching the bar.

You assessed the new crowd of faces. Odd faces, all so well built and specific. Between the tall man in the darkest sunglasses you had ever seen in an already dark bar, the lithe woman with purple eyeshadow and the most perfect beauty mark, and the embodiment of tall dark and handsome— you wondered what exactly Nanami did for a living. Was there some kind of work force that employed only the hottest people you had ever seen. It took you a second to notice the younger, far drunker man with his arm slung around the black haired man with the gauges. The white haired man was still talking to Nanami, maybe arguing, but they spoke too softly for you to hear specifics. Both were cut off

“So do you want a ride home or are you good here?” Gauges asked eyes moving between you and Nanami coolly, before readjusting his hold of the nearly asleep fourth man.

The woman tapped on her phone, seemingly uninvested in what was happening, now barely holding onto their friend.

The white haired man cut in before Nanami could answer, “you hit those drinks pretty hard, Nanami. We don’t want you getting taken advantage of.” His face turned toward you and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt them.

Wow, like really felt them, he was sizing you up, it was clear. It was confusing, his inflection was teasing-almost joking, but his energy was severe.

Nanami was seething, mortified by the intrusion and Gojo’s crass assertion, “I can get myself home.”

It would have sounded more convincing if the slurring of his voice hadn’t married the words myself and home into a mess. You noticed, realizing for the first time that you were much more sober than him. His friends noticed too.

Nanami cleared his throat before speaking again, “I’m a grown man, I don’t need you to babysit me, Gojo. I’m enjoying my evening. Please take Ijichi home.”

Gojo didn’t seem convinced, turning his face back to you and finally sliding the sunglasses down his nose to reveal the bluest pair of eyes you had ever seen. They nearly glowed in the dim club. This gesture caused the others of the group to stiffen up. The woman finally putting her phone down, Gauges eyeing him carefully, even Nanami drew in a tense breath.

“We quite like our friend Nanami, we wouldn’t want him getting hurt.” He spoke directly to you, between his height and your seated position he leaned over you slightly, “are you someone we can trust our friend with?”

Nanami was about to cut in but before he could you met those azure eyes with yours, “I quite like your friend too.,” you copied his inflection, “ I understand why you’d be wary of some stranger taking him home. Since you have your hands full, I’ll watch him for the night. If he decides he needs a ride home, why don’t I call you directly?”

Nanami felt his jaw drop, looking between you and Gojo carefully. He caught Geto’s eye, seeing him smile lightly. No one talked to Gojo like this. Shoko chuckled softly, impressed with your lack of fear in the face of their “strongest” friend. There was no way for you to know the risk you were taking, but it was thrilling nonetheless.

“That is, if he would like to join me back to mine?” You continued, looking away from Gojo and back to Nanami.

“I’d like that very much.” Nanami answered quickly, in any other situation he would be embarrassed at how eager he sounded, especially in front of his friends. But you wanted to take him home, you wanted to keep talking to him, he could see where you lived, maybe you would let him kiss you, or touch you again.

“Give me your phone.”

The request snapped Nanami from his fantasy. Gojo held his hand out expectantly. To his surprise you handed over your cell phone. Gojo typed quickly, “This is my phone number and where Nanami lives. If I don’t answer, stick him in a cab to this address. Okay?”

“Okay. It’s nice to meet you, Gojo.” You attempted to ease the tension created, “I promise you’ve left him in good hands and I’ll return him to you in one piece.” You smiled warmly at him, cutting through the attempts at intimidation, even offering a small wink to Nanami over his friend’s shoulder.

You didn’t back down, you understood why anyone would be concerned about leaving their drunk friend with a stranger. It was a testament to how much he cared, he seemed completely sober himself. Playing DD, you assumed, was not a role he took lightly. You respected his protectiveness, you had done nearly the same on many occasions. If this is what Nanami’s friends were like, you would definitely fit in. You glanced down at where Gojo had written in the notes app of your phone. A string of numbers— his cell, and an address, Nanami’s, and below that another line, just for you.

Be nice to him, he’s more sensitive than he looks :)

Yeah, you would get along with this one. You smiled up at him and Nanami both before the dark haired man slung the full weight of the now completely passed out bespectacled man on his back in an attempt at a piggy back, and smiled to you warmly,

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Kento. Have a nice night.” Before turning and leading the group toward the exit. Gojo handed off Nanami’s jacket before pushing his glasses up his nose and turning around to follow.

With no more company, the two of you were once again alone. Nanami struggled to collect his thoughts before you soothed him, “Your friends are nice. They seem to really care about you. How long have you all worked together?”

“We all went to high school together.”

“And you’re still friends? That impressive, I barely keep up with friends from that long ago.”

“We’re, sort of, stuck with each other.” Nanami started, caught in the trap of having to figure out some way to explain his job without, actually, explaining his job. Thankfully, you cut that conversational thread and moved forward.

“I hope I wasn't too forward. You don't have to come back to mine. I felt like we were just getting to talking and I didn’t want to cut it short yet. But please don’t feel obligated.” You wanted to assure him that he could proceed however he wanted to. Despite how hopelessly attracted to this man you were, you recognized your responsibility as the more sober party to remain respectful.

“No I want to!” He blurted, not thinking about his volume, quickly standing.

You laughed, “I didn’t mean now! If you want to stay and have another drink, or dance more, that's good too.”

His resolve was starting to crack, it had been nearly an hour since he first saw you enter the club. He wanted desperately to be alone with you, suddenly the club was too hot and too crowded and too loud. Everything was overwhelming, and the only thing he wanted to overwhelm him was you.

Still standing he stepped in toward you a sudden surge of confidence lowering his voice and causing his head to dip down to meet you at eye level, “I would, very much like to join you back at your place.”

His voice was dripping with want, the eroticism behind his words lidding his eyes and sending chills down the side of your neck. You let out a small shaky breath before standing up, chest nearly colliding with his, sending him back up to his full height.

“Let me tell my friend I’m leaving. Stay here.”

You nearly ran to find Sophie and your mutual friends at a table of their own. Leaving Nanami to settle his tab and wait patiently at the bar for your return. Your heart was beating so fast you could barely hear the music. When you finally found her, you pulled her close to speak directly into her ear.

“I’m taking blondie back to mine. You all good here?”

She gave you a taunting oooh before smiling, “you really do work fast. Next time lets see if you can last two full hours before taking someone home.”

You rolled your eyes before giving her a tight hug and grabbing your jacket, “love you, text me when you get home.”

Waving to your other friends you turned on your heels and saw Nanami still standing at the bar patiently at the bar patiently. He hadn't pulled out his phone to pass the time, he simply waited, just as you had told him. God, if he could follow benign instructions like this so well, you can only imagine how well he would do with something more salacious. You had to relax, you knew nothing would happen tonight. He would come over and crash, and that was enough for now.

Nanami counted to six in his head over and over, trying to measure his breaths as though if he increased his oxygen intake he wouldn't be drunk anymore. The sides of his vision were fuzzy and dreamlike, ears hot, tongue a bit dry, all his physical indicators of intoxication were present. He paid his tab, the only things on it were your and his brief shared drink. Realizing that since Gojo( maybe Geto?) had purchased the earlier rounds, he actually had no way of knowing how much he had had tonight. What had he gotten himself into? His attempts to sober up proved inefficient because just as quickly as you had left, you were standing in front of him once more wearing your jacket and sliding your purse over your shoulder. You still looked so beautiful,

“Ready?”

He nodded, “Ready.”

And now he sat in the back of a cab, behind the driver, you on the other side. Had he remembered to open the door for you? Had you two waited outside for the cab to pull up long? A window had been cracked allowing fresh, night air to brush past his face. Your thumb ran over the back of his hand. You were holding his hand. He looked down to confirm that your fingers were interlocked with his resting on the middle seat between the two of you. They looked good like that, his long fingers laced with yours. How long had you been holding hands? Eyes wandering he saw the skin of your thigh where your skirt had ridden up, he wanted to feel your leg against his, the space between you in the backseat suddenly feeling cavernous.

“You’re so far away.” he mutters, not really intending to say so out loud.

Without saying anything you giggled and scooted closer to him, moving your joined hands into your lap and your leg right against his. You tipped your head up to look at him, he wanted desperately to kiss you. Just as he began to lean into your lips you stopped him with your fingers.

“Not yet.” was all you offered him as conciliation.

He nodded, lips still restrained by your fingertips. The faint smell of the lime you had squeezed into your drink still lingering. Even just having his lips on your fingertips sent his body into a frenzy. But he was a patient man. Drunk or not, he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Still, he allowed himself to indulge a little, he kissed your finger tips before pulling back with a sigh, nodding silently.

The rest of the drive was quick, or at least it felt quick. You lived in an apartment building and when the cab pulled up outside, you handed over a few bills before sliding out of the door closest to you. Nanami began to move toward his before it opened suddenly. You had opened his door for him and were now offering your hand to help him out. He stared up at you entranced, he felt romanced by you. It dawned on him that he had truly let himself be “picked up”. Taking your hand he exited the car and tried to think if he had ever had this happen before. Women approached him sure, men too, but whenever he allowed himself to spend the night with someone they had always come back to his place. It allowed him a sense of control, and thus comfort in a vulnerable situation. Vulnerability did not come naturally to him, not now anyway. He wasn't prudish or uncomfortable with casual sex, but he liked to remain the organizer of them. Much like everything in his life he liked it to remain under his control. But tonight, you had steered him right to your door and he was so willing, it dawned on him only once that maybe he could have gotten himself in a dangerous situation. He barely knew anything about you, he knew your name, and now where you lived, but the rest of you was a mystery to him. And yet here he was, following you down the hallway to your apartment door truly not caring what could be on the other side as long as it meant more time with you.

You hesitated at the front door, holding your keys in one hand, aimed at the lock.

“I want you to know I’ll call your friend whenever you like. If you decide you want to leave, you just say so and It won't be a problem. You won't hurt my feelings and it doesn’t have to be awkward.” It felt redundant at his point, but you couldn't shake the discomfort of having taken him home in this state. He had nodded off briefly in the cab, holding your hand tightly, before coming too and staring at you with wide eyes. You nearly backed off then and redirected the driver to the address his friend-- neigh, Bodyguard-- had written down. But then he had wanted you to come closer, and tried to kiss you. You knew he wasn't thinking clearly, but still he sought you out.

Gnawing the inside of your lip you looked up at him nervously, waiting for his response. Nanami looked down at you, his already drooping eyes still warm toward you, “I really like you. I think you’re beautiful. I bet you're a great decorator, can I please see what you’ve done to your apartment?”

His response made you laugh again. He Hadn't really answered you, but it was clear what he wanted. You weren't sure if he was intending to be funny, but nonetheless, the anxiety you had just felt slipped away once again and you turned the lock, leading him inside. You liked your apartment, it wasn't the nicest place available. But it was a two bedroom you could afford by yourself, with a good sized kitchen and small personal patio. Frankly, you were lucky to have even found it. You were a good decorator, and you were proud of the job you had done with the interior. A large, well managed and organized bookshelf along one wall with a recliner and side table, art along the walls you had collected since first moving away from home. A medium sized brown couch that was perfect for movie nights with Sophie or an afternoon nap. You had made a home here, and you were thankful for the chance to show it off.

“Wow…” Nanami’s voice sounded nice inside of your home.

“You like it?” you began to shed your jacket, hanging it on a tree rack by the door and clicking on a few lights. You offered to take his coat.

“It’s beautiful, so warm.” Nanami began to slip his jacket down his shoulder, suddenly realizing he didn't actually remember putting it on, “you did all of this yourself?”

You barely heard his question, distracted by the way his shirt stretched over the muscles of his back, “Uh.. yeah. I moved in about three years ago. So it's been a process but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out.”

You turned to hang his coat next to yours, even they looked cute together. He removed his shoes carefully, still stumbling a bit before he took a few steps into your apartment’s main room.

“Why don’t you take a seat.” you gestured to the couch

He sat gracelessly, cushion sinking more under him than he expected. His couch at home was pretty stiff, yours was soft and pliant under his weight. He steadied himself again, feeling embarrassed suddenly.

“I dont usually drink like this, I drink.. Just not so….like this?” He attempted to save some face in the wake of his stumble.

You stood by the edge of the couch before moving into the kitchen area.

“Are you hungry? I could make us something before bed.” You offered, more needing an escape from the building sexual tension than feeling any actual hunger.

“Oh I couldn’t put you out like that…” He started, feeling his limbs get heavy with comfort as the softness of your couch lulled him to lay down. It wouldn't hurt to just lay down a little, right?

“It's no trouble, really! We may feel better in the morning if we eat something now.” you called from behind him. Your voice seemed further away somehow as he pressed his cheek against the soft suede beneath him.

The couch smelled so good, like incense and home cooked food. He wondered if you had a pet he hadn't yet seen, or if you wanted one. Were you a dog person? Or did you prefer cats? Maybe you were one of those people into reptiles, he could learn to love one if you wanted him to. In this state he would do anything you asked him. Which was precisely why he wasn't getting the one thing he wanted from you, he buried his frustrated expression further into the couch. A small groan exiting his lips. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, rousing him back to attention.

“Kento, honey? You still with me?” your voice was so sweet saying his name, he wanted to hear it again. Once he looked up at you he saw you had a glass of water in your hand offering it to him, “Are you good to sleep in these clothes or should I look for something for you to wear?”

He was still in his dress clothes, not his work dress clothes, but not exactly lounge wear. His button up was stiff and pants had been well tailored, hell, he was still wearing his belt, “thank you.” he accepted the water, and by proxy your offer.

He was left alone in your living room. Slurping down the cool water he tried once against to regain his composure. Had he fallen asleep again just now? You seemed to have abandoned the idea of eating so he must have drifted off. This job really had run him ragged.

“They still may not be the right size, but they’ll work for the night I think.” You returned from the side room, presumably your bedroom, with a pair of black sweatpants, “They used to be my brother’s, but they've got some paint stains from when I redid the bathroom. Sorry I don't really have anything else.”

He accepted them graciously, setting the water down on a coaster before standing, “Thank you, this is all very nice of you. Letting me stay the night like this, I'm really not usually like this…”he started to repeat himself.

“It's really no trouble, it's been a long time since I let a man as handsome as you sleep on my couch.”

The couch. So he wouldn't be joining you in bed tonight. Part of him had hoped that even though he wouldn't be sleeping with you tonight, he could at least sleep in your bed, “The couch, huh?” His half awake state allowed the thought to slip out half formed.

“Mhm, the couch. You two seem to have really hit it off. I'm certain the drool puddle wasn't there when I left.” You pointed to a small wet spot on the cushion where his face had been.

Once again the embarrassment of his current state shot through his body like electricity, so he had fallen asleep again. He hung his head cringing at himself, “Oh jesus…I cant believe this.. I’m--”

You cut him off, “You really don't need to be sorry. I like having you here. And tomorrow morning maybe we can have coffee and talk some more. I hope you don't think I was just inviting you over to fuck you.”

His breath caught, “No, I- well.. I thought you--”

“I, of course, want to fuck you. And I don't really see any point in hiding it anymore now that you’re here. But it’s just not going to happen tonight. And I don't think I'll get a wink of sleep next to you when all I can think about is that. Does that make sense?”You were tired, you didn't want to be coy and demure anymore. You wanted to be frank and upfront about how you felt and what you wanted. Nanami nodded understandingly, although still a little surprised at your confession. You continued, “So, you’ll sleep here. I’ll sleep in my bed. I usually wake up at 8, the door to my bedroom is unlocked. If you need anything during the night, please don't hesitate to wake me up. The bathroom is the door behind you, you can change in there.”

Nanami was awestruck by your instructional tone, it sent his mind in a thousand directions; thinking of you telling him house work that needed to be done on the weekend, to you telling him exactly how to please you. He wanted you so badly, pants growing tighter, breath getting heavier. You stepped forward, nearly right up against his chest.

“I hope you're not too disappointed that I won't take advantage of you tonight.” Your voice soft.

“I respect your self control.” His eyes were locked on your lips, so plump and soft looking.

“I’m going to bed,”You leaned in closer, so close he could smell your perfume again, still as hypnotic as it was in the club, “Goodnight, Kento.”

You pressed your lips against his cheek. His body shuddered as your lips lingered there before you pulled away back on flat feet. Trying desperately to regulate his racing heart, Nanmi looked at you desperately.

“Goodnight.”

You turned back to the side room hitting a wall switch to extinguish the kitchen light before closing your bedroom door and leaving him in your dimly lit living room. He could still feel your lips burning on his cheek, he stood for a few seconds not wanting any other sensations that could potentially dull this one. Finally, he shed his pants, folding them haphazardly and setting them on your recliner. He sweatpants you had given him fit okay, the drawstring was broken so they hung pretty loose around his hips, showing just the elastic of his briefs. He undid the rest of his shirt buttons and folded it to stack atop his pants. He hoped you wouldn't mind, but he never slept with a shirt on. Honestly, he didn't usually sleep with pants on either, he already ran hot but sleeping was an entirely different story. Sleeping fully clothed almost always culminated in him waking up in a pool of sweat as though he had just broken a fever. Laying on his back on the couch he pulled a throw blanket over him, mind racing with thoughts of tomorrow.

In your room you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You had returned to your room like every night, put on an old t shirt and shorts as you always did, washed your face and brushed your hair as though it was any old night, turned on your white noise and gotten into bed as if there wasn't the most attractive and charming man you had ever met settling in to sleep on your couch at this very moment. The nights events played and replayed in your mind on a loop, the intensity of his gaze across the floor, the way he had materialized right in front of you, the feeling of his body pressed up behind yours, his hands on your back back, his hand in yours, him asking to kiss you in the cab, him snoring softly on your couch, the way he had looked at you as he said goodnight. You had never felt so pulled toward another person before. It was far from a perfect night, on a perfect night you’d be fucking each other blind until the sun came up at this very moment. On a perfect night you wouldn't have even been in that club, you would already be his, spending romantic evenings reading and cooking. You wondered if he liked to read, what his favorite meals were, if he wanted pets, if he would want to move in here or if he’d ask you to move in with him. You recognized the street name of his address, he lived in a far nicer part of the city than you did. You wondered what his place looked like, if he had decorated it personally or if he had help. God, you haven't even asked if he had a girlfriend. You checked for a ring while you were dancing, but you got so caught up that the idea of a girlfriend hadn’t even crossed your mind. You rolled onto your side trying to relieve some anxiety, he didn't have a girlfriend. You met his friends, they were intense, sure. And sure, one of them had lightly threatened you, but it didn't seem like the threat was rooted in a fear of infidelity. It seemed like the threat came purely from a safety standpoint.

Were you being irresponsible? Was it smart of you to have brought him here so easily? You rarely brought hook ups here, almost always opting to follow them home and politely excuse yourself in the morning. You found yourself bending so many of your usual rules for him, giving your information to his friends, leaving the club so quickly, bringing him to your apartment. Nanami was so big and looked so strong, it probably wouldn't take a lot for him to overpower you. You had practically offered yourself to him on a silver plate. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to be afraid of him. You couldn't say that you knew him well enough to know he was safe, but you just…trusted him. And you felt that he trusted you too.

Your lips still tingled from kissing him. It was just a goodnight kiss, a simple gesture intended to convey continued interest but the end of the conversation around sex. You could call it chaste, even. And yet here you were, lips feeling electrified from a mere two second kiss on the cheek. Whatever product he uses in his hair smelled incredible, like honey or tobacco or sandalwood. Something organic and masculine. The soft sound of surprise he had let out when you touched the back of his sleeping neck resounded in your ears. His voice was so pretty, your mind attempted to conjure what he could sound like when he climaxed. If he would let out a low, husky groan, or if he would whine and beg you for more. You felt your pussy dampen at what your imagination offered you. Thoughts of him were consuming you, seconds moving by glacially as you begged for sleep to take over and bring the beautiful, sober light of day through your bedroom window. When it finally did your dreams were abstract but they were blue and honey and blonde.

Nanami could already feel his head pulsing before he opened his eyes. Oh God. When he finally did manage to pry his eyes open, he found himself not looking at his bedroom wall. He wasn't in his bedroom at all. He wasn't in his bed. Where the fuck was he? He sat up slowly, head pounding and back aching. He took in his new surroundings: he was on a couch, there were his clothes folded on the chair, he remembered taking them off, he looked to the coffee table and saw a glass of water mostly untouched with two small painkillers next to it. It must have been left there by you. YOU! This was your apartment, he had slept on your couch in your apartment! Memories of the previous night came screaming back against his aching head. The club, the shots, meeting you, dancing, you taking him home, you taking care of him-- oh god he was so drunk. Had he really fallen asleep twice? He was mortified. He didn't know if he could face seeing you. He remembered Gojo’s threats and his cheeks burned both in embarrassment and rage, where does he get off acting like some kind of guardian over him. Then again, if he was that drunk then maybe he needed it…maybe just not that one. He stood up on shaky, sore legs, even these pants weren't his. He needed to leave before he embarrassed you or himself any further. This was a mistake, he can't believe he let himself get so carried away, you must have thought he was some drunken fool who cant take care of himself. Maybe he was a drunken fool who couldnt take care of himself.

He unfolded his pants and wracked his brain for whether you had told him which door was your bathroom so he could change back into his own clothes. Just as he was trying to remember which door you had said led to the bathroom, you emerged from the side room yawning.

“Good morning!” You stretched a bit as you walked into the kitchen, “I hope you weren't planning on running off before I got out here. I set the coffee to make enough for two and if you don't drink part of it, I'll be buzzing for the rest of the day.”

The lilt of your laugh brought it all back. He knew exactly how he let himself get carried away. You were magnificent, even more beautiful in the morning light, hair undone, legs exposed under your sleep shorts, what appeared to be a well loved sweatshirt hanging off your shoulders. You took his breath away, he couldn't believe you were actually real. Not some dream his drunken state had conjured to torment him.

You were so grateful to have your back turned on him, it was stupid of you to assume he would have slept in that button up, and you hadn't given him a shirt to wear, despite having an extensive collection of oversized t-shirts that would certainly have covered him. But seeing him shirtless in your living room just for the duration of your walk from bedroom to coffee maker was enough to nearly make you falter right then and there. He was so, fucking, built. How does one even get a body like that, did he live at the gym? He hadn't really explained what it was he did for work, was he a trainer? You weren't really a big gym person, but you could be convinced to start going if it meant watching him huff and puff and sweat.

“Good morning. I don't know where to begin…”, His voice was the same as the previous night, low and smooth, but this morning it was more reserved, more even and controlled, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me out last night. I really can't believe my own behavior. I’m truly sorry.”

You turned to face him, you were expecting some kind of hangover induced remorse, but he sounded genuinely apologetic, as though he had imposed himself upon you rather than having been invited as a guest.

He continued, “I know it doesn't mean much, but I don’t go out very often. I had had a rough few weeks at work and my friends wanted to help me loosen up a bit. Apparently I did a little too good of a job with that part. I'm so sorry to have put you out, I hope your night wasn’t ruined by having to take care of me. I'm grateful to you, I'm just so…”

“How do you take it?” you cut him off before allowing him to apologize to you once again, turning back around to the two cups of coffee you had poured.

“Excuse me?”

“Your coffee,” you opened the fridge to see if you even had any milk to offer him.

“I--”

“I have sugar, or honey if you prefer, and then I don't have any cream but i do have oat milk. I usually take mine with one sugar. How do you take yours?”

Nanami was beside himself, mid flagellation, completely shut down and now once again having to ask something of you, “One sugar is perfect.”

You dropped about a teaspoon of sugar into each mug, giving them both a quick stir before setting the spoon in the sink and walking over to the couch to meet him. Getting close you saw that his freckles did extend down onto his shoulders. Small scatterings of cinnamon dusted on fair, even skin. You handed him one mug, your favorite mug actually, it was dark blue and hand thrown. You had bought it at an art fair when you first moved to town, you’d tell him that story eventually.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me. I’m glad I met you last night. And I’m glad you stayed over. And I'm especially glad you're still here now.” You took a seat on your usual spot on the couch, to the right of him. He was still standing, body facing the kitchen but face watching you intently, now holding his mug but not drinking. You patted the spot next to you on the couch. He sat down, silence fell between the two of you as you sipped your coffee again. He followed suit, the steaming drink already starting to soothe his hangover. He couldn't help the soft moan the escaped him, drinking down the relief of caffeine.

“Taste okay?” you checked in.

“Its perfect. Thank you.” he felt himself loosen up, his brain choosing to be kinder and remind himself of the parts of last night that had gone well. Making you laugh, making you smile, dancing with you, the smell of your hair, your lips on his cheek. You were sat facing him, back against the arm of the couch, legs curled in front of you, he sat up right with his feet planted on the ground, allowing his poster to relax a bit and lean against the back of your couch.

You took his relaxation as an opportunity to take him in. So this was what he was like in the morning: shyer, a bit stiffer, still so fucking handsome. His brown eyes were still a bit droopy with sleep (and likely a bit of light sensitivity), a light impression of the hem of your couch cushion had imprinted itself on his cheek, his hairstyle had fallen and his blonde strands now hung loosely in front of his face. And he still hasn't put a shirt on. His torso was like something in a museum. Strong, broad shoulders sat atop full, muscle built pectorals. The hair there was light and looked soft, it became darker and coarser leading down his toned stomach. You longed to run your tongue over every inch of him, but chose instead to sip your coffee and gawk somewhat openly. Finally the silence became too much and you spoke up again,

“When do I need to have you back to your bodyguard?” you teased sliding your knee to bump against his.

“My-- oh, Gojo, don’t worry about him. He’s likely forgotten all about it.” Nanami tried to cover up the hopefulness in his voice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be today?”

It was a Friday, it was plausible you would have to go into a job today, but he didn't know what you did for work so it was equally plausible that you, like him, were off. To his delight you shook your head, smiling coyly over the rim of your coffee cup, leaning back against the throw pillows he had arranged to rest his head last night. Feeling more confident now that he had shaken off the initial mortification, Nanami scooted closer to you on the couch, setting his mug down on your coffee table. He moved one hand to gently take your mug and place it on the coffee table beside his. He then put his hands at the top of your knees and pulled you closer to him, so you were nearly sitting in his lap.

“So I have a question.” He kept his hands on your legs as he spoke.

“Mm?” you were too stunned to form any actual words.

“Last night, you said something to me. Something about wanting to wait until this morning to fuck me,” he shocked himself at his boldness, “how do you feel about that now?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly all encompassing as his hands touched your skin, this was the most you had touched since the dance floor. His fingertips felt like they were burning you, but the way a hot bath burns your skin just before it becomes relaxing.

This was it, you met his eyes, flicking down briefly to his lips, then back up,“I am still, very interested. What about you.”

Nanami moved one hand over your shoulder, to the back of your neck, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your lips and he spoke, “I can't believe you made me wait all night.”

He pushed his lips to yours, finally feeling the kiss you both had waited so desperately for. His lips were so soft, the coffee you prepared lingering on both of you. His hand on your neck rose to tangle in your hair and yours reached out to find his neck, his shoulder, his hair-- fucking ANYTHING. He leaned over you slightly, catching a momentary moan and sliding his tongue between your lips, he found himself moaning, feeling your tongue slide against his. Your hands were on his back now, feeling the muscles flex and retract at every turn of his head or readjustment of his hands. The hand not on your head how found your waist, sliding up and down your form savoring every roll and bump and divot his fingers could find. Finally, fucking finally he could touch you, his lips slotted against yours over and over, allowing your tongues adjust and readjust, it was messy and desperate and so passionate, Nanami kissed you like he would never kiss you or anyone else every again. Like a man who knew he could die tomorrow and never again know the warmth of a kiss this intense. You pulled away briefly for air and before his hungry lips could pull you back down you started to remove your top. He met your hands half way and finished the motion for you, you hadn't put a bra on since waking up, opting instead for the thick sweatshirt instead. Your chest was now as exposed as his was. As desperate as he was to have your lips on his again, he took a moment to admire you. Your breasts were full, and round enough to fit perfectly in his grip, nipples hardened already in your exhilaration, still so reactive for him. He wondered if you were wet already, and if so- how wet were you. He couldn't wait to find out. He was staring, lost in his thoughts of how best to appreciate everything you were giving him. So much care, so much trust, your beautiful body. He wanted to know how best to show you what it meant to him.

You squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Since you shed your top he was staring at you. You didn't mind it at first, but it was starting to make you self conscious. You weren't insecure about your body, but the intensity of his gaze, how you could nearly hear his mind racing, made you desperate to know what he thought. Finally he broke his gaze away from your chest, raising up one hand to hold your right breast firmly, he looked deep into your eyes moving to kiss you again, softer and more intimately but still just as passionate as before.

“So beautiful…” he said in between kisses, “Even better than I imagined. You’re so beautiful.”

You moaned against his lips as he massaged your chest. He redirected his kisses down the side of your neck, across your collarbone and right to the breast held in his hand. He kissed around the nipple before finally taking it into his mouth. A haughty moan was pulled from you as he sucked hard, eyes flicking up to watch you arch under his mouth. He moved to the otherside, and your hand took refuge in the short hair at the back of his neck. The cropped undercut left little to grip, so your nails dug lightly into his scalp. He moaned around your nipple, eyes rolling back slightly, and hips jutting into the couch involuntarily.

You marvel at his reaction, letting out a small chuckle before moving your nails across his hair again, “You like that?”

He nods wordlessly, mouth still full of you. He knew he was kissing hard enough to bruise, he didn't care. The taste of your skin, the feeling of your body under his, of your fingers in your hair had him feeling drunker than last night. He couldn't get enough of you, he was truly insatiable. He began to move to return to the first side of your chest when you pulled him back up to your mouth, kissing him hard.

“‘Need you.” you pleaded against him

“Need you too, so fucking bad.” He agreed, leaning back upright, and bringing you with him.

You pulled off and stood up quickly, your boobs bouncing as you moved, he would have been embarrassed of the sizable tent growing in the borrowed sweatpants, if he had had any remaining brain power to think about anything other than fucking you. But he didn’t. He stood up and followed you into your bedroom. You had a queen bed, a small wardrobe, a vanity table that appeared to double as a work desk and maybe moonlighted as a craft station. He couldn’t wait to find out what clothes went in what drawers, maybe eventually you would let him keep some of his work clothes here so he could spend the night on weekdays. You turned to face him before reaching the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down once again to kiss you. His hands fell to your exposed waist, the skin so soft and supple, they teased along the topline of your shorts, lingering to be told the next move. Without him having to ask, you nodded against his lips, and his hands dipped underneath the waist band, finding not underwear but only skin. His hands gripped into the meat of your ass, pulling moans from both of you. Your own hands had slipped down his stomach and began to remove the second hand pants from him as well. Finding the tangled up positioning complicated, you both pulled away briefly to remove the last of your clothing before you led him in climbing on the bed. He followed suit, ogling openly at how your body curved and folded and stretched with every motion. You were nearly serpentine the way your hips shifted climbing onto your bed. His cock was so hard between his legs, pre cum dripping onto your comforter as he followed your crawl. As you turned onto your back, he was right behind you, moving himself between your legs to meet your lips once more. A hand started on the back of one of your thighs, causing you to shiver deliciously.

“You're so sensitive.” He praised, sliding a finger feather light from your ass to the back of your knee.

You mewled unabashedly, proving his point. Finger trailing back down, his hands now gripped both of your thighs, he was on his knees before you, parting your legs further to finally, FINALLY look right at your glistening wet pussy. He nearly fainted at the sight. Lower lips parted to reveal the most beautiful, most delicious looking pussy he had ever seen. He couldn't stop himself, he leaned right down and planted a kiss directly onto it. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation, the taste, the smell, the feel of your pussy lips against his mouth, soft pubic hair brushing his nose and he gave a long lick from bottom to top.

“Thank you,” he was so grateful to you. For last night, for taking care of him, for being here this morning, for being here at all, he couldn't believe he had found you like this, and he planned to make the most of his chance.

Never in your life had you been thanked by someone eating your pussy. But here was Kento Nanami devouring you like he hadn't eaten in weeks and whimpering gratitudes into your wetness. You hadn't had time to even realize his intentions before he pushed his tongue between your lips, and once he had your brain had short circuited, causing you to assume the initial “thank you” had been all in your head. It wasn't until it was a mantra he clung to while increasing his ferocity that you realized he really was thanking you. Your hands flew to his hair again, this time pushing back the longer strands in the front that had gathered in his face. You pulled hard when he first sucked your clit into his mouth, the moan he let out sent vibrations up your body and added to the pleasure he was already giving you. Your legs were over his shoulders, your hands in his hair, his mouth was taking you apart one lap at a time, one of his hands found your breasts again, there was so much sensation it was like he knew precisely how to make you unravel before him.

Nanami didn't even realize he was rutting his hips into your mattress, his body desperately seeking friction to his painfully hard cock. He didnt think he had been this hard in years, he couldnt think at-fucking-all. The only thing on his mind was how good you tasted, how pretty you sounded above him, he wanted to hear you say his name, he wanted to make you say his name. He brought his free hand up and slid two of his fingers up and down your folds, getting them thoroughly wet before stopping them just in front of your already clenching hole.

“Do you want these?” his voice is even lower than before, mouth pornographically drenched in you.

You nodded helplessly, just looking at him between your legs threatening to make you cum. He gave a rough squeeze to the breast he held, “No.” he corrected, “ask me.”

You knew what game he wanted to play now, you knew he could tell how much wetter you had just gotten at his darker tone and rougher grip, the tiny showcase of his strength already sending your mind reeling to know how rough he could really get with you. But not right now, now you needed him, any of him, inside of you more than you needed air. So you’ll play along.

“Please, oh fuck please Kento, please put your fingers inside me, i need it. I need it so bad, please.”

More than pleased with your efforts, he slides his fingers into you, they go in so easily, youre so fucking wet. He resumes his meal, already itching to taste you again, now using his fingers to draw even more wetness out of you and onto his tongue. He curls his fingers slightly upward and your moans raise in pitch. He’s hit it, if he keeps this up you’ll cum in no time. You're panting, your moaning, you’re nearly screaming and Kento continues to thrust his long fingers into you, hitting your g spot with inhuman accuracy. You can feel it, you’re nearly there.

“K-Kento i’m..oh fuck i..I’m cumming of fuck I--”, a half scream-half moan rips through your lungs robbing you of the end of your sentence as he pulls your orgasm out of you. You're shaking, you’re pulling his hair, you’re repeating his name over and over until it's completely garbled in your mouth. He takes everything you give him, holding your hips down firmly so you stay connected to his mouth, not letting up with his fingers until he's satisfied you’re through the totality of your first climax. He continues lazy licks as you come down from your high, slowly easing out his fingers and sucking those clean as well.

From your spot on your back you look down at him still panting and dazed from cumming harder than you thought possible with another person. You and your trusty vibrator had made some good memories, but you never expected someone could make you cum like that on the first try. He knew it too, he could see it on your face as he savored the remnants of your cum on his fingers. You moved your hands to his shoulders, weakly pulling, urging him to come up to you. He followed your lead and moved his body over you. You could finally see how fucking hard he was. And how fucking big he was. Just by looking you had to assume he was seven or eight inches long, and he was thick, thicker towards the head than at the base, two pretty veins wrapped around him, the tip was so pink it was nearly red, sticky with precum and still weeping. It curved upward, wanting to rest against his lower abdomen, and the darker blond hair there that grew at the base of him. He clearly kept it groomed, it not being too long or unkempt, but you were grateful it was there. The monstrous thing would probably only look more intimidating without it.

He could see that you were doing the same mental calculations he had seen in every partner he had ever had, and he tucked away the immature arrogant pride and chose to instead kiss the side of your mouth, along your jaw, and up to the shell of your ear,

“It’ll fit, you're already so wet for me, and if it doesn't fit all in one go, that's okay. We can work our way up to it. Trust me.” He kissed your neck soothingly, and that was all you needed. You could already feel yourself dampening again, you wanted so desperately to please him, had just made you cum so hard, you had to at least try to settle the score. Finding his lips once again, you pulled him into another desperate kiss, this time trailing your hand down and wrapping your hand around his cock. Using his already collected precum to coat his shaft, you moved your hand up and down a few times, trying to find the right rhythm before his hand gripped your wrist sternly, forcing you to look him in the eye,

“I nearly came already just from eating your pussy, if you touch me like that I’ll cum right now and I have to be inside of you at least once before then.” he moves your hand away from him and above your head. You keep it there, although direction is ungiven, and he seems pleased by this. He moves to his knees between your legs, Wrapping your legs around his waist, he grips his desperate cock and slides it against your pussy, collecting as much arousal as he can. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he knows how big he is, he knows if he bottoms out without enough prep it won’t feel good for you the way it would for him, he wants you to feel good. He wants you to make that sound again. That pretty scream of his name and pure pleasure. You watch him as he becomes laser focused on the point where you'll be connected in mere moments, you feel honored, in a way to see him like this. He’s being so attentive, so thoughtful and he's making you feel so good. Your hand reaches up and touches the side of his face, and he leans into your palm, nuzzling into it.

“I trust you, Kento. Please, baby, fill me up, I need you so bad, please fuck me.”

He presses a kiss to the heel of your hand, the light breaks in your voice making cock twitch in his own hand, he can’t wait any longer, he begins easing himself inside. He tries, he really tries to go as slow as he can, but hes so fucked out and desperate he cant control his movements as well as he usually would. Feeling him push inside of you, you’ve never been so full in your life, he stretches you so nicely, a slight burn but the combination of foreplay and your first orgasm soothe any pain or anxiety you may have had. His eyes are closed, his brows are furrowed, lips parted and still wet. He looks so beautiful like this. You think he's finally gotten all the way in as he stops his movements, you couldn't be more wrong, his hands lift your hips up slightly, more aligned with his pelvis and he slides back out an inch, before pushing the rest of his length inside of you. You feel him against your cervix, you feel him along every inch inside of you.

Looking down at you, he finally opens his eyes, you look so beautiful filled with him. Mouth dropped open, a warm flush settling over your chest and neck, one hand gripping his arm tightly, the other buried in the blanket beneath you. He wants to keep you like this forever, he attempts to push even deeper, seeing how far you can really take him. Gasping your back arches away from his grasp, but he pulls you back to him.

“Just like this, take it all. Look at you, such a good girl for me. Taking every inch.” His praise coaxes you to relax again. He's so deep inside of you, it feels amazing, “You think I can move now, baby?”

You nod desperately. He starts a slow thrust, opening you up little by little. He's hitting every spot inside of you, you don't know how but you can already feel another orgasm building from just the first few thrusts.

“How do you expect me to fuck you properly, when she wont let me go.” he teases above you, sliding his fingers in a V shape along your innermost fold, right where you’ve gripped around him so tightly.

“‘Mm sorry.” you gasp out barely registering the conversation.

“Oh fuck,” he sputters, finally able to pull completely out before diving back in.

Youre finally warmed up enough for him to fuck completely. He pulls on your legs to place over his shoulder as he deepens his thrusts. Your moans are syncing with his, his movements are starting to become jerky again, trying to control himself as much as possible, Kento brings a thumb to circle your clit making you see stars behind your eyelids, when you open your eyes the only thing you can see his him, gripping onto you leg firmly, staring intently at how well you’re taking him, watching himself move in and out of you. He feels you start to grow tighter around him before you can even start to whimper out,

“Fuck, fuck, kento I---aughhh.” you came around him with no warning,the feeling of you pussy spasming and tightening around him is nearly enough for him to lose his own. He releases a deep moan.

“Where can I cum, please baby, fuck where do you want me to cum, i’m so fucking close.” he can feel the sweat dripping down his face, he’s so dangerously close to blowing it inside of you. He wants to so badly, but he needs to hear you want him to.

“Inside, please, inside me, i need you to fill me up, please fuck.”

Music to his fucking ears, he carried on with his thrusts as you continue begging him to cum inside of you. Your wicked tongue is so dangerous, anything you asked of him in this moment he would do, as long as it meant he could stay like this forever. His thrusts grow shorter, faster, more frantic, he’s truly rutting against you, so deseperate for release the only word on his lips is a repetition of “fuck” and your name. It sounds so good coming from him, like he was born to say it. Finally, he lets out a long strangled cry, coming from low in his belly. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you as his release covers your inner walls. He thrusts a few more times, emptying himself completely before stilling his movements, still locked inside of you.

Heavy pants fill the room, cutting through the thickened air. Nanami collapses over you, resting his head on your chest, the sound of your heart quickening underneath him cutting a smile into his face. You brush the front of his hair off his head once more, cycling your fingers through the sweat-dampened strands. Contented, satisfied sighs escaped both of you, neither of you spoke, neither of you wanted to, not wanting anything to break up this bliss of this moment.

Morning light dripped through your window curtains, golden rays illuminating his features, the freckles on his cheeks, the soft wrinkles by his eyes, a small scar cut into the arch of one eyebrow. He really was beautiful, you wondered how many people had gotten to see him like this. A man of his stature, his strength, completely unguarded. One of his large hands found yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your fingers, so sweet, so intimate. You really could fall in love with him. Finally, he looked up to face you, eyes catching the light and turning gold, he winced lightly, still feeling the sensitivity of his hangover. You flattened your palm in the path of the sun’s beam, offering his tender eyes solace in the shade. The gesture is short lived as he moves up to press his lips against yours again, his still buried cock shifting and igniting your inner nerves once again. Feeling you begin to tremble, Nanami wills himself to pull out and move onto his back next to you, one large arm wrapping around you, desperate to not be parted from you for even a second. You rest your forehead against the side of his neck snuggling up to his side. His smell fills your nose, the lingering cologne that you first smelled on the club’s crowded floor, mixed with something so uniquely and naturally him. You felt his lips press onto your forehead, arms pulling you tighter to his side.

Kento was the first to break the silence, “would you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

Your lips curve warmly already imagining how handsome he’ll look like in a nice restaurant, candlelight flicking over his face, maybe he’ll even wear his glasses.

“I’d love that.”

Author’s notes:

Okay thank you guys! I hope you enjoyed!I know I did, I know I said it earlie but I haven’t written in forever so I would love to hear some feedback! Don’t be scared, I know I can take it!

it’s up on Ao3 too.

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wandasfavreal · 1 month

Text

Make You Mine

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ummm stepmom Wanda being upset with you for hosting a birthday party and not listening to her??

Idkkk this is my first time writing anything SO PLEASE just give me chance. I’m not really sure what I’m doing but like it’s something and I wrote this in one sitting. So please ignore any mistakes I made

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stepmom!Wanda x Fem!Reader, alcohol, intoxicated r, non/con, somnophilia, mommy kink, oral(r receiving), jealousy, mentions of straight relationship, just Wanda being pervy

The floor trembled under you as music played obnoxiously through the speakers. You had the house to yourself and since it was your 21st birthday, you hosted a party at your house. There was around twenty people or so that you invited, having known them from college or even before.

With the promises of causing no trouble and being good, your father decided to give you permission to celebrate with your friends. Your step mom on the other hand, not so much.

“Y/N no, I told you already I don’t want you and your friends making a mess in the house that I know you’re not going clean,” Wanda said sternly as she set the dirty dishes in the sink. It was so rare for the older woman to ever let you do anything surrounding your friends. Despite being an adult, she’s always treated you as if you were a kid who never knew how to take care of yourself, and you hated it. Here she was doing that exact thing.

“I promise I’ll clean everything, Wanda. Just let me,” you responded, helping her clean up the table from dinner just to prove a point. She sighed before looking back up and at you, her expression displaying a displeasured look. You, being persistent, kept trying. Begged even as you put on a pleading face. “Please, I’ll do check ins and make sure nothing breaks or anything.”

Wanda found herself amused at your attempt of convincing her, the use of ‘please’ being sorta cute. However, you breaking stuff or making messes weren’t her actual concerns. She just didn’t trust you with your friends.

There were so many nights where she’d catch you trying to sneak out with them, sometimes not being able to and waking up to see you in the morning covered with marks and hickies from whatever. It made her feel an itch whenever she saw you unawarely show off anything that didn’t come from her. Plus, she was always worried about your friends taking advantage over you and making you do stuff she just thought you shouldn’t be doing. And now that you’re planning on a party where’d you be unsupervised, and possibly going to be doing more of these things, she just couldn’t bear the thought.

“For the last time. No-“

“Hey come on it’s fine. Let the kid do what she wants, it’s her 21st birthday,” your father intervened, not noticing the anger and frustration on his wife’s face. He smiled at you, and went his way to Wanda through the kitchen, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just take it as a chance to go on a date or something.”

The sight of him touching her and the word ‘date’ coming out of his mouth made your stomach churn. You didn’t know why though. Sure there were moments you found Wanda attractive and pretty even, but she was like a little less than twice your age and married to your father. It’d be weird to like her in any way like that. Right…?

“Well, thanks dad. I’ll go ahead and do it then,” you replied, your voice sounding taunting to Wanda as you glared up at her.

Excusing yourself, you went to your bedroom, trying to get the picture of the two out of your head. But before leaving, you noticed how Wanda somewhat pushed him away gently.

Back to the party, there you were taking shots and drinks down your throat like you’ve had before. Since you were now legally able to drink alcohol, everyone brought some combined with any that you found in the cabinets. You knew Wanda would probably be mad at you for taking some, but at least you left her favorite wine.

After a couple hours of playing games and enjoying your time letting the drunk feeling sink in, people began to leave, saying bye as they departed and said their birthday wishes to you. It was around 1am at this point, and you knew your dad and Wanda would be back soon. Though, you could barely see anything as you walked. After taking so much of the burning liquor and not considering the consequences, you felt completely sick and out of it, obviously not remembering your promises of cleaning up. Your phone was no where to be found and you had no clue about Wanda’s concerns.

Your last couple of friends helped you with a little bit of trash, picking up only after themselves however, and leaving most of it to you. Feeling lightheaded, you found your way to your room as you held onto the walls, plopping down on the bed once you were in as if you weren’t on the verge of throwing up. As you laid down comfortably, your eyes became heavy, leading you into a deep sleep in which you didn’t hear the car driving and parking onto the driveway.

Wanda came into the house, already prepared to yell at you after you didn’t answer her calls from earlier. She walked over the cups and napkins left on the floor toward your room, expecting you to be up and just ‘busy’ doing anything but cleaning like you said. But instead, she walked into you passed out on your bed, still in your uncomfortable clothing as you reeked of alcohol. She once again sighed out in irritation, not sure if she should be shouting at you or your father for letting you host a stupid a party.

She takes a few steps towards you, reaching her hand out to gently push the loose strand of hair from your face as you slept at the edge. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at your cute sleeping antics though, noticing your eyebrows create an indent in between and your nose twitch. Picking you up with her unusual strength, she put you into bed correctly, placing your head onto the soft pillow lightly. She paused for a moment thinking about her next move as she realized again the clothes you were wearing. They were revealing and provocative, something you’d never proudly wear in front of her or your father. Wanda bit her bottom lip, not knowing whether she should do what she’s thinking, but she did it anyway.

Slowly, she put her hands at the hem of your short top, trying her best to take it off you without you waking. She just didn’t want you to sleep in uncomfortable clothing, that’s all… Successfully pulling it off, she threw it down on the floor. Her eyes trailed down to your chest, which was still covered with your bra. She blushed a bit, finding your body beautiful yet so tempting her eyes then made their way to your bottom half, contemplating if it was a good idea to take your pants off too.

The sound of your father’s voice shook the thought out of her head. He called her name, wondering if everything was okay as the house was quiet, which wasn’t usual if it was Wanda yelling at you. She quickly got out of your room, hoping she wouldn’t be caught doing anything inappropriate with her husband’s daughter and went to her own bedroom, now ignoring the mess that surrounded her through the halls.

After about an hour, Wanda came back into your room. Just to check on you, maybe. She cleaned herself up, taking off any of the makeup she put on for the date she was just on, which was really just her having to suffer through pretending to enjoy whatever it was that they did. She was dressed in simple pajamas, just a shirt and shorts, and even then she looked perfect. Her oblivious husband was asleep now as well, and she took it as her chance to go back to your unconscious state. Walking gingerly to the side of the bed that you were on, she turned on the light on your nightstand and stared at your body again, thinking about taking off your pants like earlier. This time she did do it. Her hands went to the top of them, tugging them down with barely any force. Now leaving with you in only your undergarments, she found herself immersed in your entire being, her hand trailing down your body.

“Fuck, what am I doing…” Wanda whispered to herself as she bit the inside of her cheek in nervousness. You shifted in response to her touch, still in deep sleep as you unknowingly made her lose her composure. A soft groan left her mouth as you turned onto your side and had your back face her, exposing your ass. Looking back at the door and you, Wanda came to the conclusion that neither you or your father would be waking up anytime soon, so she crawled into bed with you on the other side, going under the cold sheets.

She’s never interacted with you with touch before, maybe just a couple hugs and light touches to your lower back, but never more as she didn’t really want to risk and indulge in anything. But seeing you now, your unconscious body, which wouldn’t know what’s about to happen, made her yearn for more.

Her hand made its way back to your face, cupping your cheek that’s faced up unlike the other which was adorably squished against the pillow. She leaned down placing a feather light kiss to your forehead to test you and to see if you really were heavily asleep. And you were. Receiving the green light to go further, her lips went father down to your nose, then to your mouth. Not caring if you were unconscious and intoxicated, she gently pushed her lips against yours, letting out a soft moan as she finally got to kiss you like she’s dreamt of from so many nights where she’d wake up with a mess in between her legs. Her hand went down to your waist, and squeezed it just a bit, but the action made you squirm and part from the kiss, once again turning and facing your back to Wanda.

Disappointed to not see your face, she breathed out. She still kept her hands on you though, wrapping an arm around your midsection and pulling you toward her body. She put her face into your neck, taking in your scent that remained besides the alcohol. “God, I need you so bad baby,” Wanda mumbled behind your ear. Her fingers from her other hand came up to unclip your bra, freeing your chest and allowing her to grope your breasts, still lightly as she wanted you to stay asleep. Her perverted actions were so different compared to how she’d usually behave around you.

Your body responded to her many ways as she touched you. You pushed your ass against her front, your panties being the only thing separating her from touching your father down. She groaned again at this, as if your body subconsciously wanted her to fuck you. And once a small and barely audible whimper escaped from your lips, she lost it. Her head spun from the way you acted, forcing her to find ways to control herself from just pinning you down and having her way with you. She bit down on your lower neck, making you once again let out another noise of disturbance.

“So needy even when you’re sleeping… fuck, I can’t stand you,” she said quietly against your skin, biting her lip and moving her hand down your tummy and further to your center. Her fingers reached the band of your underwear, causing her to huff out in annoyance of it being there still. Being a little less gentle, she tugged it down and immediately cupped your cunt. It was kinda rough as she desperately wanted to feel you. Her fingers went through your folds, collecting your wetness. Then, she reached up to her lips to taste you as she put them in her mouth, sucking your arousal off. She moaned, and already in love with how you tasted she wanted more of it.

Her body moved down, removing the sheets off of you and her. The soft yellow glow from the light on your body mesmerized her as she positioned herself between your legs. Parting them, she bent down and put her arm underneath your thighs before having them in a tight hold with her hands gripping the smooth flesh there. Wanda looked up at your sleeping self, admiring your beauty as her lip quivered from need with your pussy just centimeters away from her mouth. She stuck her tongue out, gently licking up and between your folds, up your clit. Your body quickly began to stir, and your eyes were forced shut as you turned your head. Wanda stopped momentarily, waiting for you to settle.

Once you stopped moving, she started to move her tongue against you again. Switching between licking around your sensitive nub and entering your cunt with her tongue, she moaned at how sweet you were, making her hold on you tighter to the point where light bruises were to form. Another small whimper mixed with a moan left your mouth as Wanda hit a particular spot within you. Your hips jerked up, and this only caused her to move roughly against and in your pussy. “Mm, waited so long to make you mine…”

Now that she was lost in pleasuring you and herself, you began to wake up from the slight aggressive movements. Your eyes opened, squinting from the bright light beaming beside your face. Confused, you closed your eyes again before recognizing a feeling between your thighs. Wanda noticed you waking up, no longer caring and actually glad you were. As you looked down you saw her face covered in your wetness mixed with her own saliva. Your jaw dropped from both shock and pleasure as she continued moving her tongue in and out of your increasingly soaked center. “W-Wanda..?” You shakily spoke, reaching down to her head, only to be stopped as her hands took yours and pinned them down beside your thighs.

“Shh… just let mommy take you, okay?” She said, noticing the way your hips bucked up against her face from the name she used for herself. “You’ve been so bad, you know that? You know how upset you made me, leaving a mess outside… and hanging out with all your dumb little friends…” she said lowly against your pussy, the vibrations of her voice making you moan and tilt your head back. Her mind shifted back to previous days at the mention of your friends. “So fucking annoying, coming home with all those marks on you and from who huh? Do they fuck you better than me baby?”

The constant questions and use of cuss words turned you on further as you never had nor expected Wanda to talk to you like this. Your mind was still hazy too, from just waking up and the after effects of drinking too much. “No… no m-mommy no,” you gasped, dumbly shaking your head. Wanda moaned, hearing you say her preferred term and getting drunk off your sounds. Her grip on your hands were now even tighter matching yours as you got closer to your orgasm.

Your moaning got louder as well, somewhat worrying Wanda as she didn’t want this time with you ruined by your dad waking up. So letting go of one of your hands, she reached up and covered your mouth, the pressure being harsh. Your noises were only muffled sounds of pleasure, still arousing to hear to Wanda. “Shut up sweetie, you don’t want your father to hear you, do you?” She questions, smirking slightly as you shook your head no. She loved the way you looked down at her, your eyebrows furrowed with a look of desperation and slight fear for bringing up that fact that he was in the other room down the hall.

As you were on the edge of cumming, your free hand went down to Wanda’s hair, grasping the soft locks of brown hair like you’ve always wanted. Her tongue kept going and swirled around the clit once again, really pushing you towards releasing all over her face and specifically in her mouth. You whined against her palm, signaling to her that you needed to let go. “You gonna cum, princess? Cum all over mommy’s tongue?” She asks in a condescending tone, smiling to herself as you tried to respond under her hand. She let her hand fall for you to speak and beg her for permission.

“P-Please mommy, please I wanna cum,” you begged, whimpering as you tried to hold back before she said yes. The hold on her hair got tighter, causing her groan again. Tears grew at the corners of your eyes and Wanda couldn’t help but get more aroused at the sight.

“Mhm, go ahead baby…” Wanda replied, going at a faster and rougher pace, battling against the tiring and numb feeling in her muscle. You let go the second you hear her, moving and grinding your cunt against her to ride out the orgasm that’s making your entire body tremble. Louder and higher pitched sounds from your mouth escaped, causing Wanda to instead move back up your body and shut you up by kissing you, shoving her tongue in your mouth and making you taste your own arousal.

“Uh-huh, good girl… so good for me,” she whispered, parting form the kiss and settling beside you in the bed, pulling you in her arms in a tight comforting hold laying down. The praise made you weaker, and with her pampering you by wiping your tears away while gently petting your head, it made you lost in your mind. You panted against her chest and held onto her hand still securely. She waited for you to calm down a bit before speaking again.

“Shhhh… it’s ok, just go back to sleep dear,” Wanda said softly and moving her arms to wrap around you. She figured you were still tired, from both the orgasm and the alcohol. She right of course, and you found yourself becoming drowsy in her arms.

“Wanda…” you suddenly said sleepily, catching her attention with your stable voice. She looked down at you, still comfortingly rubbing your side. The tired look on your face showing absolutely no signs of a single thought in your head was adorable to her and she smiled while responding to you with a small “hm?”

“I’m sorry for being bad,” you mumbled timidly, looking away for a moment as there was a permanent blush. Wanda laughed softly at you, her hands now to your cheek to make you look at her.

“You’re so cute… just make it up to me tomorrow okay, and then maybe we can do something like this again,” She responded, a loving grin on her face with a light pink tint on her cheeks. You nodded slowly and smiled at her. Wanda then kissed your head, shushing you to sleep. And you listened, saying a small goodnight before quickly beginning to snore softly into her neck once you shut your heavy eyelids just for a couple seconds in her warm embrace.

Part 2(Getting Closer)

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #top!wanda #mommy!wanda #lesbian #fem!reader #scarlet witch #i need her #elizabeth olsen

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frenchkisstheabyss · 3 months

Text

୨୧ ʝαɯႦɾҽαƙҽɾ (σɳҽ) ୨୧

୨୧ Pairings: rich boy!seonghwa x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!choi san x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!hongjoong x chubby!fem!reader, mentions of yunho

୨୧ Genre: graduate school au/smut/angst/a lil fluffy

୨୧ Summary: It was never your intention to infiltrate one of the most exclusive social circles at your new university, seducing rich boys to get who and what you want. Wait, no, it was.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.7k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: reader's in her villain era, demon line are wealthy low key villains too, strong language, some dom demon line/sub reader dynamics, you sleep with everyone darling, oral sex (m & f receiving), swallowing, pet names (good girl), obsession, probably a praise kink (who am I kidding? it's for sure a theme), jealousy/light possessiveness, sugar baby origins, unprotected sex, a lil drop of rough sex, marking, fingering, mention of multiple orgasms, public spicy stuff, light choking, scratching, nibbling, dry humping, & that's it, babes.

୨୧ A/N: This baby has sorta just been chilling in the drafts cause I kinda get nervous to post sometimes but I'm gonna let her be free now. This one focuses on Hwa moreso but Joong and San will get their time too. Yunho's also a part of this, just not quite yet. So, yes, I hope you like it!

୨୧ Part Two is Here ୨୧

Observe a weekly study session held by three best friends. It takes place every Sunday, almost ritualistically so, at 3:00pm sharp in the apartment of ringleader Kim Hongjoong. Situated at the top floor of an old university office turned luxury apartment building, it has a vintage charm to it that somehow makes it feel more absurdly expensive than it already is.

Observe that, despite their long held agreement that this is a “study” session, no one’s actually studying. Not Choi San lounging in the brown Italian leather chair, mindlessly chewing on one of the legs of his round rimmed glasses when he should be wearing them instead.

Not Hongjoong painstakingly rearranging the shoes by the door. Seonghwa’s black Dior Oxfords can’t go near Hongjoong’s custom leather Prada sneakers. They are custom after all.

Not Seonghwa who’s leaning by the window doodling on the crisp pages of his $200 copy of the Netter Atlas of Human Anatomy, an act that would be blasphemous to someone like him on any other day.

But no one’s doing anything they’d do on a normal day because this isn’t a normal day. They’re distracted, unable to peel their minds free from the events of last night and it’s all your fault.

Staring down at the space between his legs, San can only think about the fact that you were there. You, the new girl with your pretty face and soft cheeks. Cheeks that were even softer as he gently cupped them, pressing the tip of his cock to the back of your throat.

The way that you whimpered, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth, is etched into his memory. If he could rewind time he’d do it over and over just to hear those same whimpers muffled by his cum filling your cheeks. You swallowed him so well, not spilling a drop.

“Such a good girl” he’d whispered, petting your hair as your head lay in his lap. Such a good, good girl.

By the window, Seonghwa’s still sketching away. The level of intensity and focus on his face does wonders to make it appear as if the motion of his hand has even a shred of intent behind it. None of it means anything, just a half hearted attempt at busying a brain that keeps reminding him how he fucked you against the very window he leans upon. This exact spot actually.

You, with your plush body and sweet voice had begged, as his lips met yours, “Please don’t stop.” It was pure bliss to have your nails digging into his forearms, the walls of your deliciously warm pussy clenching around him.

You were wet enough that your thighs were almost too slippery to grip when he parted them to sink in deeper. No girl has ever been that needy for him before, so desperate to be ruined by him. Fuck, he wants to ruin you.

“I need a drink” Hongjoong huffs, rushing off to the kitchen. Drinking’s never been something he’s just done. He considers self medication through alcohol to be silly but what else is he meant to do? He needs something to overwhelm his palate and kill the nagging craving to taste you on his tongue.

You, with your bright eyes and innocent smile, had hopped your cute ass on the counter and let him drink from your pussy until he saw stars. How adorable you’d been, kicking your feet each time his tongue stimulated your sensitive clit, his fingers teasing your sweet spot. “One more for me” he cooed and you gave him exactly what he wanted. More.

It’s all any of them want now. More, more, more. They made a promise to each other that what happened last night could only ever happen again if you were all together. The four of you. Not three. Certainly not two. The boys would do with you what best friends do with all things, share, but sharing’s much easier said than done when you don’t truly want to.

Seonghwa slams his book shut, snapping back to reality at a speed too dizzying for the others. “I need to go” Seonghwa announces, scrambling to shove his things into his bag. San sits up in the chair, popping his glasses back on.

“Go? Where are you going?”

“I, uh, I have to go look for something. I’ll see you guys later.”

Hongjoong steps back into the living room just in time to hear the door slam as Seonghwa exits. “Where’s he off to?” A question with only one logical answer that pisses San off the second it dawns on him.

“Where do you think?”

The scholarships aren’t nearly enough. They were enough to get you here but being able to stay? That’s a different story. And so you find yourself here on a Sunday evening, picking up hours at the university’s library to make some extra money.

It’s a grueling schedule. Weekdays waitressing at a five star restaurant, weekends at the library, and every waking hour outside of that spent with your face buried in your books. Well, almost every waking hour. Lately you’ve managed to find time for other things.

Wheeling a cart full of books down one of the aisles, you nearly run over some girl’s feet. “Hey, watch it!” she shouts, shooting you a look that says she wants to tear your head off. “I’m really sorry” you apologize, slinking to the side to let her squeeze past.

“These shoes cost more than your rent, you know that?” she spits before storming off in the other direction.

Everyone’s like that here, always throwing their money in your face. Mommy and daddy’s money anyway. You don’t have what they do, it’s like they can smell it on you, and they’ll never let you forget it. “These shoes cost more than your rent, you know that?” you mock, picking up a book to slip onto one of the shelves. “They’re fucking hideous anyway.”

“Uh, hey, everything okay?” a voice asks from behind you. You jump, nearly tripping over one of the cart’s wheels. Seonghwa grabs you by the arm before you lose your footing. Your knight in shining armor. Well, a cardigan really but close enough, right?

“Oh my god, Seonghwa. You can’t sneak up on me like that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“It’s a library” he laughs, straightening out your shirt, “I thought we were supposed to be quiet.”

“Not that quiet! What are you doing here anyway?”

That came out a bit harsher than you intended. Thankfully Seonghwa finds it cute when you’re sassy. “Yunho told me you work here on weekends and I thought…I wanted to see you.” “See me?” you ask, the book now clutched in your arms like a stuffed animal.

Seonghwa moves between you and the cart, pinning you against one of the shelves. This position feels familiar, a flash of heat rushing over your body and settling between your legs. Seonghwa toys with the hem of your short skirt, his knuckles brushing your exposed thigh.

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm?”

“Working two jobs. Do you like it?”

“Honestly, I hate it.” You draw in a sharp breath when his fingertips touch the marks he left behind on you last night. Sneaking both hands beneath your skirt, he traces your hips, relishing in the fullness of them.

Your thighs part and he carefully eases his knee between them, the moist cotton of your panties all that separates your aching core from his slacks. Seonghwa leans in to nibble at your bottom lip, “Then quit.” “Hwa, you know I can’t, ah…” you squeak, the book tumbling to the ground as he slowly grinds you along his leg.

He kisses you tenderly, angling you forward to stimulate your clit in just the right way. Seonghwa can already feel you soaking through his pants. You get wet so easily for him and it eats away at his self control. “Quit” he repeats, “I can get you a job at one of my father’s offices. His secretaries there don’t really do anything. You can kind of just sit there and be pretty. I know you can do that.”

Letting go of your waist, he pulls back enough to watch how perfectly your tits sit as you ride his thigh. “Look at you, doing so well already.”

The quiet one. That’s how Yunho described Seonghwa before you met him. He’s quiet but no more innocent than the others are. Never let that innocent exterior fool you, he has a switch and when it flips he’s someone you won’t even recognize.

That switch, you can see it flipping on and off. His eyes bright with admiration one second and darkening with lust the next. There’s something dangerous about him but you aren’t exactly harmless now, are you?

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, taking his hand and pressing it to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, taking his thumb between your lips. “Of course I would. I’d…” he loses his train of thought as you start sucking his thumb, the rhythm of your hips picking up speed.

“Anything you want.”

You can feel his pulse quickening. See his face taking on a pink hue. Your breathing grows shallow, the tension building in your core making your body shudder. “So close” you whine, running his hand down to your neck, “I want you to make me cum.”

Anything you want. Anything for you. Seonghwa holds you by the neck, his other hand slipping into your panties. “Cum for me then like a good girl. Like my good girl.”

There’s a chance someone could hear you. Between the splashing of his fingers in your juices and the moans that spill out from your lips onto his, there’s more than enough noise to draw a little attention. That’s what makes it hotter. What has his cock straining against his pants and your eyes glossing over as the tension finally snaps.

Ruin you, that’s what he wanted to do, and look at you now, coming undone so wonderfully. How can he be anything short of obsessed with you?

“So gorgeous when you’re falling apart.”

“Only when I’m falling apart?” you ask, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. Seonghwa wraps an arm around your waist, kissing you on the forehead.

“No,” he sighs, “And I think that might be the death of me.”

#ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez x female reader #ateez smut #ateez au #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #choi san x you #choi san x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #choi san smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

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okaylikesmomo · 9 months

Text

Photographer Part 1

“You’re welcome.”

“For what?” you asked, barely even glancing at the folder your coworker and friend just dropped on your desk as you focused on your screen. “Another session you need me to cover for?”

“No, this one is a gift.”

“A gift?” you asked, picking up the folder and taking a look. “So you’re telling me you could take this appointment if you wanted to?”

“Well, not exactly,” your coworker replied while leaning against your desk.

“Of course,” you sighed, putting the folder back down. “I’d love to help you again, but I’m already booked this time around.”

“Hold up, hear me out,” he protested, picking the folder up and holding it out to you again. “You’re right, I can’t make it, but I fought pretty hard to get you this gig.”

“And why did you feel the need to do that?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because I owe you for last time, take a look at who it is.”

Even though you were still suspicious of his motives, he had your interest. You accepted the folder again and looked more thoroughly.

“Lee Ji-eun, actress?” you read out. “I’ve told you before, I don’t watch Kdramas.”

“Yeah, but you listen to Kpop.”

“So what? Get me a photoshoot with Eunbi then.”

He looked at you in shock.

“Wait, you really don’t know?” he asked, his mouth agape.

“Don’t know what?” you asked, getting tired of his games.

“You’re really in for a surprise,” he laughed while turning around. “Get there at least an hour early, just in case.”

“I told you, I’m already booked,” you replied infuriatingly.

“I’ve already covered your schedule,” he said while walking away. “Thank me later, and make sure you don’t tell anyone else about this one.”

What made this appointment so special that he would go through the effort to clear your schedule? You shook your head, deciding you’d worry about it later, before turning back to your screen.

—

Are you there yet?

Even though you weren’t sure why this appointment was such a big deal, you made sure to be an hour early just like he suggested, and you also dressed up nicely to give a nice first impression. You sent him a quick test saying you just arrived before putting your phone away and walking into the building.

There was so much work to be done, you never got around to checking out who this Lee Ji-Eun girl was. Typically, you’d like to do a bit of research about your clients, but you were on track for a promotion and spent all night working on a project that you were certain would get you there.

“You must be the photographer.”

“That’s me,” you replied, handing the lady at the front desk your ID. “Beautiful building by the way.”

“Are you surprised?” the lady laughed while handing the ID back. “Are you a fan?”

“Um, sorta,” you said awkwardly, feeling extra embarrassed that you didn’t do any research. She likely played a role in some new drama that had everyone hooked.

“Just follow the hallway and take a right. The whole third floor is hers.”

It wasn’t unheard of for someone to request an outcall for their shoot, but booking an entire floor for the studio was a bit of a flex. You racked your brain, trying to figure out if you had seen the name before - it did sound a bit familiar.

“You must be the new photographer? I need to see some ID, please,” a security guard approached you as soon as the elevator arrived on the third floor.

“Oh, uh, one second,” you said while stumbling with your bag. “Here you go.”

He accepted the ID and looked you up and down before handing it back to you.

“I see you’ve heard the rumors based on how you dressed,” the guard said while gesturing for you to follow him. “She doesn’t care and just does whatever she feels like, but if she’s going to play her games then I like seeing a bit of effort on your end. Some of the other’s barely try, showing up in sweats and a hoodie.”

“Thank you, sir, we try our best to be very professional.”

He burst out laughing while holding the door to a small room open for you.

“Professional? That’s one way you can describe it,” he said. “Non-disclosure is on the table, give it a sign before anything happens.”

Slightly confused by the comment, you bowed respectfully before walking in and placing your bag down. The room was far more comfortable than most waiting rooms, in fact it didn’t even look like a waiting room - it was more like an office.

There was a luxurious desk with a huge window behind it, bookshelves along both walls, and a large couch on either side of an oversized coffee table. It was a bit strange, usually you’d just be given a little room with a coffee machine and some refreshments.

After admiring the room, you quickly signed the document. Not every shoot required you to sign one, it was somewhat odd now that you think about it, but it would make sense for an actress to require it. You decided it would be a good time to look more into who this girl was, but just as you opened your laptop, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Hello, I’m-” you began while opening the door before suddenly your heart stopped.

“You are?” she said while chuckling at your reaction with her eyebrows raised.

“You’re IU.”

“Yes, I am,” she said casually while watching your mind go blank. “But I think you were saying who you are, not who I am.”

“B-B-But, you’re IU!”

“We’ve already established that,” she laughed while entering the room and picking up the NDA you had signed earlier. “Perfect, am I safe to assume this is you?”

Speaking wasn’t an option while you stood there like an idiot, barely managing to nod in response to her question. She put the paper back down and walked forward, closing the door from behind you before taking you by your hand towards the empty couch. Her delicate fingers barely touched your hand as she pulled.

“You seem quite shocked to meet me,” she laughed while guiding you to take a seat. “Shouldn’t you have expected it? After all, you’re going to be doing a photoshoot with me aren’t you?”

I’m such an idiot you thought to yourself. Lee Ji-Eun, that was her real name. You had only ever called her by her stage name, but it just now clicked as to why that name sounded familiar.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I am a huge fan - am I supposed to say that? I bet you get this all the time, I’m-”

“Relax,” IU cut you off while smiling softly.

She took a seat on the couch next to you, her perfect posture leading your eyes to her body. For the first time since meeting her, you properly took notice of what she was wearing. You took a deep breath, in awe at how pretty she was up close.

Her salmon-colored dress fell beautifully down her body, the sheer sleeves giving just enough visibility to keep you intrigued - intoxicated. The little black buttons gave just enough contrast to break the steady hue down to her thighs, where the dress opened up to showcase those slender legs of hers. On the other end, her intricate butterfly necklace framed that unrealistically pretty face beautifully.

“It is an honor to meet you,” you said respectfully, finally finding your voice again.

“Likewise,” IU responded, still smiling in the most comforting and endearing way. “I assume, especially after that reaction, this is your first photoshoot with me? I generally don’t forget my photographers.”

“Yes ma’am, my first time.”

“I know we make you sign an NDA, but have you heard any rumors?” she asked while playing with her hair. “Do you know what usually happens next?”

“My guess is that I’m here to take your pictures,” you replied awkwardly.

“That’s right,” IU giggled, flipping her hair around. “You’re quite adorable.”

IU just called you adorable.

“T-Thank you,” you stammered.

“Before that,” she said softly while placing a gentle hand on your thigh. “I like to give all of my photographers a bit of a thank you.”

“Before the shoot? But I haven’t done anything,” you said, confused by her words. “Surely you mean after?”

She leaned back and tilted her head slightly, as if she was analyzing you in a lab.

“If you did a good job, I planned to thank you afterwards as well,” she said softly, still examining you. “This is so interesting, you’re the first person who has come here without knowing. Assuming you’re not just playing along.”

“With all due respect, without knowing what?” you asked innocently. “Not playing any games, I truly just don’t know.”

She ignored your question and stood up, walking over to the desk and looking out the big window behind it. After a few moments of silence between the two of you, she turned around and spoke firmly.

“Take my picture.”

“Right now?” you clarified, your heart rate elevated by her gaze. “Sure, just give me one second.”

After fumbling around with your shaky hands until you pulled out one of your cameras, you walked up towards IU to get a good angle.

“The lighting is a bit odd because of where the window is, but I think I can make this work.”

She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again and smiling.

“Whatever you think works best,” she said kindly while posing for you.

She was unbelievably pretty. Despite the unoptimized setting, your camera loved her; It felt like every picture was a masterpiece - she was born to be a model. You had her pose in a couple of different ways before giving her full freedom to pose however her heart desired.

“That’s gorgeous,” you muttered, looking at her through your lens. She was showing off her side profile with one leg slightly raised on the desk. “You’re amazing at this.”

“I have some experience,” she commented casually while you took your last few shots. “There, now you took some photos, can I thank you?”

“You’re very welcome,” you said while bowing deeply out of respect. “But I still have many more to take.”

She looked like she was in shock with her mouth slightly opened, her lips curled up in a little smile.

“You’re really not playing games,” she said softly before walking past you. “We’ll start in fifteen minutes, I can’t wait,” she added over her shoulder before leaving the room.

—

“So, do you pitch for the other team?”

“What? No, why would you ask?” you replied, astonished at the forwardness of the security guard.

“I don’t mean any offense, many photographers are,” he said while squinting his eyes at you. “But if you’re not, then you are the first one I’ve seen who…”

“Who what?”

“Nevermind, it’s none of my business. Come this way, she’s ready.”

This whole situation has been an odd one. Despite being confused out of your mind, you followed the guard across the room, carrying your camera with you. When you arrived at the set, you realized that this whole floor was probably being used to record a scene for a music video or something.

IU smiled politely at you before you got started. Luckily, the rest of the staff seemed to be acting normal, and the shoot went quite smoothly. Working with such an expert of the industry made it incredibly easy - the most difficult part was controlling the inner fanboy inside you.

“You’re doing great,” you said while snapping pictures constantly. “Try to look a bit more pensive.”

“Pensive? Okay,” IU replied before adjusting her expression.

“Perfect! Just turn a little bit more to your left,” you instructed, trying to stay as professional as possible while your heart was beating out of your chest. “Absolutely beautiful, I can feel the melancholy flowing through me.”

She giggled softly before quickly focusing again, controlling her laughter.

“Wait,” you said while looking up from your lens. “I need to see that again.”

“What? A giggle?” IU asked as her lips curled upwards slightly, clearly amused by you.

“That smile is far too pretty to skip.”

“I didn’t realize that was part of this photoshoot,” IU replied, smiling fully with her head tilted slightly.

“When you’re this beautiful, you just have to act naturally,” you said calmly while resuming your barrage of pictures. “It’s my job to try and capture it.”

She laughed openly, allowing you to catch a few stunning shots before she quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment.

“Sorry!”

“Don’t apologize, you have a gorgeous laugh,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes locked on her through the eyepiece of your camera. She truly was stunning, especially when she smiled. “Let’s take a quick five minute break, please.”

While a group of stylists quickly ran up to touch up her makeup and hair, you walked over to a table on the side and poured yourself a glass of water.

“She really likes you.”

As you turned towards the voice, you saw the security guard from earlier next to you.

“I’m sure she’s just being respectful,” you said after taking a sip.

“Trust me, I’ve been working with her for a while, she tells me basically everything,” the guard said while pouring himself a glass as well. “She likes you.”

Well, I’m glad. She’s great to work with, I see why this is such a sought after position.”

He gave you a look of pure confusion before setting down his glass.

“Such a sought after position, yeah,” he said knowingly. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened in that room earlier?”

“Before the shoot? She came in and we just talked for a bit,” you answered while refilling your glass. “Oh, and then I took a few pictures.”

“What kind of pictures?”

“Just some casual ones, I think she wanted to see what I could do before the actual shoot started.”

The guard gave you one more bewildered glance before another staff member from across the room called you back over to finish the shoot. The rest of the session went by quickly, there was only one outfit change. Afterwards, you quickly thanked all of the staff and IU personally before heading back to the waiting room to collect your things.

After taking apart your camera, putting on the covers, and packing each lens individually, you were ready to go. You took one last look around the room, thinking about IU leaning against that desk earlier.

“Mind if I come in?” a sweet voice called out to you from behind.

“Oh, of c-course,” you stammered, turning around to observe IU leaning against the open door. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked while closing the door behind her, slowly.

Truthfully, you were desperate to get back to the office and finish this report, but there was no chance in hell you would deny IU right now.

“I do,” you lied as IU sat down on the couch.

“Please, join me.”

Your heart could be felt throughout your entire body, each pulse of blood coursing through your vessels. Taking pictures of her for hours didn’t change how nervous you were sitting right next to her, nor did it prepare you for how unbelievably pretty she was in this instant.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments. Despite it being painfully difficult for you, she kept her gaze locked on you with ease - she was remarkably seductive. It was unclear if she was waiting for you to say something, and you began to sweat slightly as she stared at you. Luckily, she eventually broke the silence.

“You did a great job,” she said softly while keeping her eyes locked on you. “I wanted to personally thank you, again.”

“You’re very welcome, if there’s anything else I can do for you-”

“There is one thing,” she said, finally lowering her gaze. “It’s a very strange request, but could you help me take off my shoes?”

“Your… shoes…?”

“Yes,” she winced while reaching down to her feet. “I’m not trying to be a princess, the buckle is just too tight for me to take off myself.”

“Oh, of course,” you quickly dropped down to your knees in front of her and began working on the straps. She wasn’t lying, they were incredibly tight.

“Thanks,” she sighed, leaning back on the couch while you fiddled with the strap.

Eventually you got both open and slipped the shoes off before gasping in shock.

“Oh my God, are you alright?”

“Much better now,” she said while inhaling sharply as you began to rub the red marks on her feet.

“I can’t believe they made you wear these,” you commented while massaging her feet.

“Life of a celebrity,” she responded with a laugh before moaning out loudly. “Oh that feels so good.”

That sound she made immediately filled your insides with warmth, and you started to get slightly embarrassed. Without thinking, you looked up to see IU leaning her head back in pleasure - but by doing so you also happened to catch a glimpse up her short dress. Your face began to burn up as you quickly looked back down with the vision of IU’s underwear ingrained in your mind.

“You didn’t have to do that,” IU moaned softly while wiggling her feet before standing up. “I really appreciate it, though.”

“I know, it was just my instinct,” you said while trying to avoid eye contact. “I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Her single finger was placed on your chin as she knelt down next to you and gently turned your face. You started to truly notice how beautiful her eyes were now that you had to gaze right into them. No colorful contacts, just dark and rounded with a faint brown tint. All you could do was wait and pray that she didn't notice how anxious you were at the moment.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she whispered into your face, faintly hitting you with her warm breath, while putting a hand on your shoulder. You had no idea what was going on right now as she delicately pressed into your body with her slender fingers. “Were you uncomfortable?”

“No!” you answered a bit too enthusiastically.

She blessed you with another smile before patting the seat of the couch in front of you. Slowly, you got up off the ground and took a seat, facing IU who was now standing in front of you.

“Your shoulders are quite stiff,” she commented while leaning forward over you and pressing her fingers into your skin again. “You must be under a lot of stress.”

“Oh, yeah, work has been…” you trailed off, trying to find some distraction as this position made it impossible for you to not look down the neck of her dress. “Please, miss-”

“Just call me IU, if you’d like,” she whispered before standing up straight. “Do you mind if I massage your shoulders properly, just a bit?”

“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to do that for me,” you spluttered awkwardly. “I appreciate the offer.”

“I insist,” she said sternly, reviving that deep gaze of hers. “I’ve been learning how to find knots.”

You nodded, almost as a sign of submission, and then gulped, giving her the okay.

“I promise I’m good at this,” she said before casually straddling your lap. “It must be difficult carrying such heavy equipment around all day.”

Part of you wanted to scream. You assumed she would massage you normally, from behind, never in a thousand years would you have predicted her to position herself like this. Slowly, with her hands on your shoulders, she sat down on your lap; it was incredibly embarrassing because you knew she could feel the anticipation in your pants right now.

Not that it was your fault, surely anyone in your situation would be feeling the same way. A massage, a pretty girl on your lap, and your eyes situated perfectly to look down her neckline, these three facts combined meant you had no chance.

Even though she could most likely feel your erection, she ignored it entirely and focused on pressing your shoulders. It just now dawned on you how terrible this would look if someone walked in right now to see IU straddling you. Despite the nervousness coursing through your skin, it actually felt phenomenal.

Not only was IU sitting on your lap a dream come true, she didn’t lie when she said she was good at this. Frankly, she could have been completely useless at giving massages and it wouldn’t have mattered in this situation. Her whole body began to move up and down slightly as she really got into it, her crotch repeatedly bouncing on your lap did not help with the situation in your pants.

“Does that feel good,” she asked with her sultry voice in response to an involuntary moan you had let escape your lips.

“Mhmm,” you moaned again while she pressed all your pains away. “Why are you so good at this?”

“I told you, I’ve been practicing,” she said proudly before hopping off your lap. “I’m glad it’s paying off.”

“It really is,” you commented shyly while placing both your hands on your crotch.

“Is there anywhere else where you feel some tension?” she asked with extra emphasis on that last word, her eyes darting towards your lap. “I’d love to help relieve it.”

“Oh, thank you so much, but I’m alright,” you said shyly, trying your best to cover up.

For a second she looked disappointed, but quickly her beautiful smile returned.

“You are very cute,” she said tenderly before standing up and walking towards the door. “Have a lovely evening.”

After she left the room, your mind began doing backflips. Everything suddenly hit you at once as you sat there on the ground. You just massaged IU’s feet and she moaned. Not to mention that sight which you could not stop thinking about, that sight that would be living in your head for the foreseeable future.

On top of all that, she just called you cute.

—

“How did it go?!”

“I just finished the report,” you announced proudly, leaning back in your chair and grabbing your mug.

“Fuck the report,” your coworker shouted while slamming his hands down on your desk. “How did you get IU to personally ask for you again?”

“She did?!” you asked in shock, almost spitting out your coffee.

“I can’t believe this,” your coworker sighed heavily.

“Hey, you’re the one who gave me the shoot knowing it was IU of all people.”

“Well I owed you, and I figured in the off chance the rumors are true, you’d enjoy it more than I would,” he laughed while sitting down. “Also, it was my sister’s wedding last night, I couldn't exactly miss that.”

“What rumors?”

“Holy shit you actually don’t know?”

“Man, I feel like everyone knows something that I don’t,” you sighed. “What rumors?”

“Nothing’s confirmed, apparently she makes every photographer sign an NDA-”

“Yeah, I had to sign one, too,” you interjected.

His eyes shot wide open.

“If that part is true… word is that IU likes to personally ‘thank’ her photographers.”

“Yeah, she came in and privately thanked me,” you said, the view of her underwear flashing into your mind again.

“It’s true?!” he shouted before quickly looking around in a panic and whispering. “Sorry, but you have to tell me everything. Hands? Mouth? Some people say she goes all the way, but I don’t believe them for a second.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Bitch stop holding out on me,” your coworker replied angrily. “I might be gay, but I still wanna know.”

“Wait,” you mumbled, everything clicking in your head all of a sudden. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Hold on, did you or did you not-”

“I didn’t.”

“Hand?”

“No.”

“Mouth.”

“No.”

He flashed you an expectant look without saying anything.

“No, definitely didn’t do that either,” you answered his unasked question, making him stand up in disbelief. “All I did was massage her feet a bit.”

“Alright wait, that’s something,” he said, immediately sitting back down and leaning over your desk in excitement. “How the hell did you get your hands on her feet?”

“She was very…” you thought about how to word it. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah, clearly, if she let you suck on her toes.”

“I didn’t suck on her toes.”

“It sounds like she wanted you to!” he snapped back. “In what world does a girl casually let you massage her feet?”

“She said her feet hurt,” you mumbled quietly.

“She said her feet hurt,” he mocked you. “Did she also say her pussy hurts and ask for you to massage it too?”

“She also massaged my shoulders,” you muttered under your breath.

“She what?” your friend gasped. “She massaged you as well and you still didn’t get the hint?”

“I thought she was being friendly!”

“Saying ‘thank you' is friendly,” he said angrily. “Putting her hands all over you is three steps past friendly.”

“But she-”

“I can’t believe this,” your friend started pacing back and forth. “The rumors were true, the rumors were true.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before I went?” you sighed while slumping back into your chair.

“Don’t blame me for your stupidity!”

He had a point.

“Wait, we're ignoring something very important,” he continued.

“I’m an idiot who can’t read the most obvious signs ever?”

“Well, that, and also she asked for you again.”

“You’re right!” you gasped, sitting back up in your chair with your eyes wide open. “But what if she’s only asking for me because I didn’t do anything?”

“I guess you’ll find out in two days,” he said while walking towards the door. “I have to get back to work, but I swear if she asks you to lick her foot you better swallow it whole.”

—

This time around you were far more nervous than when you didn’t know who she was. With extra care taken regarding your presentation, you walked into the building for today’s photoshoot. The man at the front desk directed you to where the shoot would be taking place and you made your way there. As you entered the photoshoot area, the same security guard from the last shoot approached you.

“Wow, two photoshoots in one week, and you didn’t believe me when I said she liked you,” he laughed while guiding you to a little room.

“Maybe she just liked the photos I took,” you suggested awkwardly while playing with the strap of your bag as you walked through the room, seeing IU on the far side surrounded by stylists. There were fewer staff this time around, and the room was considerably smaller.

“We haven’t even seen them yet,” the guard said while opening the door for you, his eyebrows raised in confusion. “Hey buddy, drink some water. It’ll help with your nerves.”

The waiting room was more typical than the last one, but it was still extremely luxurious with plenty of comfortable sitting room. There was a big table on the side and a small window overlooking the neighboring buildings.

“Nothing to sign this time, the one from last session is still valid.”

“Thank you, I’m ready to start whenever,” you said while putting your bag down.

Even though you had plenty of time before the shoot, you couldn’t focus on doing any other work. All you could think about was if IU was going to walk through that door personally again. Time ticked by, and you were starting to lose hope when suddenly the door flung open without a knock.

“Miss, sorry, I mean IU - may I still call you that?”

“Yes, you can call me IU still,” she said while attempting to stifle her cute giggles. “Why are you so flustered? We’ve already become acquainted, haven’t we?” she asked while closing the door behind her.

“Yeah that’s true, we’re basically friends at this point,” you said awkwardly, trying to suppress the urge to confess your love for her.

She gave you a long, thoughtful look as her lips curled into a smile and her adorable dimples were on display. It might have been your mind playing tricks on you, but you could have sworn she licked her lips as she eyed you up and down. Your face began to get warm under her gaze.

“I like you, you’re very cute,” she chuckled before walking up to you and unwrapping the blanket she was wearing off her body. “Since we’re friends, I wanted your opinion on my outfit for today’s shoot.”

“It’s… it’s… wow,” you mumbled while gawking at her beauty.

The outfit was simple, yet so charming. A white shirt with a white skirt, her midriff just peeking out ever so slightly, almost like she was teasing you with her body. The main attraction, however, were her beautiful legs. The skirt was short enough to where you could see her slender legs in their entirety. To top it all off, she had her hair tied up in an adorable ponytail with a purple hair tie.

“You look so beautiful,” you whispered under your breath with your mouth left hanging open afterwards.

“You’re so sweet!” she cheered happily while lunging forward and hugging you. “Thank you for coming again!”

“Any time,” you responded while your senses got overwhelmed by her divine aroma. As if you weren’t already in love with her, she smelled so delectable. “I loved working with you last time.”

“Me as well,” she said kindly with a bright smile after moving back. She glanced down at your lap before giggling softly. “I’ll be waiting for you, come out whenever you’re… ready.”

—

The photoshoot felt like it only lasted minutes, as the entire time that you were taking her photos all you could think about was how badly you were lusting for her. All that flirting, surely she meant for more to happen. Then again, would a celebrity as big as IU really be willing to do something like that with a random photographer that she just met? But why would she even flirt to begin with?

The internal battle raged in your head throughout the shoot. What did she really want? Maybe she just liked teasing - but all of those rumors, what if they’re true. Was there a chance IU would actually touch you? She already touched you, that hug wasn’t any normal hug; Unless you’re being delusional, in that case she really was just being friendly.

“Can you turn, put your legs on the other side please,” you instructed IU.

She nodded before tossing her legs across her body. In doing so, she very clearly gave you a view up her short skirt, flashing her light pink panties in your direction. You froze, being reminded of the last time you got a glimpse of her underwear.

“Is this not what you wanted?”

“Oh no, it’s perfect,” you answered, snapping out of your trance.

The photoshoot went on for a bit longer, and you had IU keep switching up the positions. Almost as if to confirm your suspicions, she put on a whole show each time - making sure to flash those pink panties into your view each and every time.

“We’re five minutes overtime, but if you need to continue it’s no issue,” one of her staff members informed you.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, lost track of time,” you responded before quickly putting the camera down. “I believe I have what I need, thank you again.”

Casual chatter filled the area as you made your way back to the little room. You began to pack your bag, as slowly as possible in the hopes that there would be a knock on the door. You were willing to accept any excuse - any delay - as you began to wipe your lenses with a microfiber cloth. Then it happened: That knock you craved so badly.

“Please come in.”

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” IU peeked her head through the door.

“No! Please, I was just waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” she smirked, this time locking the door behind her.

It took her only two lines to get you all flustered, forcing your next slurry of words to become an incoherent mess.

“I just don’t… thank you… I was leaving soon.” you stammered, having the sense to put your camera down before you dropped it.

She walked right up in front of you, wearing a kind expression, and grabbed your hands.

“Is everything okay? Your hands are shaking,” she noted, rubbing your fingers up and down.

“Oh no I’m great, how are you?”

She chuckled softly, giving your hands a quick squeeze before letting go.

“Would you like to just chat for a bit? Unless you’re in a rush, of course.”

“No rush at all!”

“Mind if I get a bit more comfortable then?” she chuckled softly, knowing that she had full control over you right now.

“By all means, do you need help with your shoes again?”

“I think I’ll be fine this time, thank you,” she laughed openly.

She turned around before she began to very slowly bend over at her hips. Slowly, lower and lower she went - this time there was literally zero chance you’d miss this hint. Especially when she made it all the way down and started taking her shoes off, as this was the best angle up her skirt.

Those light pink panties she flashed at you earlier were gone - replaced by nothing. Even though you could barely see, you were completely hard now; hiding your excitement would be impossible. The pressure kept building up as IU faked a struggle with her shoes, grunting and moaning until they finally slipped off.

“Oh that feels good,” she moaned as she stood back up straight and turned to face you. “I enjoy dressing up for photoshoots, but taking it all off feels so good.”

“Yeah, I bet,” you stuttered as she began walking towards you.

“Being a celebrity can be so… hard,” she whispered right in front of you, pausing to look down for that last word. “Mind if I show you something?”

Before you could answer, she put one foot up on the couch next to you. Her skirt rode up her thigh, giving you the most jaw-dropping view. It was straight out of a dream, you could literally see IU’s pussy right now - and she knew it, too.

“Look at this bruise I got,” she said casually, pointing at her knee. She knew very well that you could clearly see her private bits, there was no chance that she didn’t know, but she pretended not to notice. “I don’t even know where it came from, I find random bruises all over my legs after busy schedules.”

“Yeah, that must… that must be… really… painful…” you faltered, attempted to make coherent sentences while absolutely failing to avoid staring.

“Can I ask another favor, since you’re my friend?” IU asked sweetly while putting one of her hands on the back of your head. “Could you kiss it better?”

You licked your lips carelessly and leaned in to place your mouth against her knee. As soon as your lips contacted her skin, she began to moan softly. Thanks to her lovely voice, even her moans sounded like music to your ears. While your eyes remained fixed up her skirt, you continued to kiss her, essentially making out with her leg.

“Oh yeah that feels so much better,” she moaned softly. “If you don’t mind, the inside of my thigh….”

This was unreal. IU was giving you permission to lick her legs freely: You knew there were no bruises. You got straight to work, kissing the insides of her leg - daring to go higher and higher with each kiss. She was squeezing your hair, but she never pulled back as you got closer and closer. At this point, it would only take a short plunge and you would have found yourself with your mouth against IU’s pussy.

You paused, your face close enough to notice the faint shine of her wetness. Your mind was begging for you to get closer, but you lacked the audacity to physically comply. For now, at least, you were satisfied with rubbing your tongue all over her inner thigh.

“Ah!” she cried out. “I’m sorry!”

It happened so fast, you were left in shock. One second you were admiring her thighs, the next second she had fallen forward - pressing her pussy directly onto your face. There was no doubt this was intentional, this had to be her way of giving you consent. You opened your mouth wide, accepting the sudden change of events as she began to grind on your mouth for a brief moment before backing up.

“I lost my balance,” she joked, quickly fixing her skirt, pretending to be flustered.

It took some time to get over the shock of having IU press her pussy to your tongue. She was so soft, just a bit wet, and driving you insane. You only made contact for a few seconds, yet your mind was starved for more - you needed more.

“Please, lose it again.”

She burst out laughing, dropping the act temporarily before recovering.

“Thanks for that, I feel so much better now,” she whispered, her eyes locked on your crotch. “Allow me to repay you?”

This time there would be no hesitation, no politeness; If IU wanted to touch your body, she had an all-access pass. You slid your hips forward slightly, slumping down into the couch. When she saw your enthusiasm, the corners of her lips curled up in delight.

“Finally you’re done making this difficult,” she whispered under her breath while dropping to her knees before you.

“I just wanted to give you some more massage practice,” you replied casually, trying to control your heartbeat. “Free of charge.”

“Well aren’t you a gentlemen,” she smirked up at you while fiddling with your buckle before turning her full attention to your crotch. Inch by inch, she lowered your pants all the way down to your ankles, leaving you with the bulge in your underwear staring IU in the face.

“Look at all this tension,” she moaned softly, bringing up fingers up to your underwear and outlining your cock with two fingers. “You’re all swollen.”

Despite wanting to flirt back, play her game, you found yourself incapable. With just two of those delicate fingers of hers, she began stroking you through the thin fabric. While toying with your cock, she leaned forward and puckered her lips before gently pressing them against your tip - this was when you truly realized this was happening.

“Please,” you begged, reaching for your waistband.

“Tsk tsk,” IU slapped your hand away. “Your job is to relax, let me do the work.”

She ran one finger up the underside of your shaft, pressing down firmly. Just the single finger, she moved it up and down, toying with you. When the teasing was starting to become too much, she reached up and hooked the top of your underwear with her finger. She pulled the fabric back, just far enough to expose your stiff cock, before letting it snap back to your skin.

Her eyes were taunting you, smirking while she watched your squirm. Your attention wouldn’t leave her lips. Those pretty, delectable lips, you needed them on your cock. Ideas flashed through your mind as you watched IU lick her lips, but you couldn’t act on any of them - yet.

“Can I remove your underwear?” IU teased, knowing it was the only thing you wanted right now.

After your enthusiastic nods, she took hold of the garment. In one very swift motion, she yanked the underwear down to your ankles, flinging your cock up straight towards the roof. As much as you wanted to make some cheeky comment, something to lighten the mood, IU gave you no opportunity as she immediately leaned forward and put your cock into that beautiful mouth of hers.

“Oh!” you gasped, briefly closing your eyes before realizing that missing this view was not an option.

Evidently, there was no more time to be spent because IU immediately started working your cock. Her lips moved up and down on your shaft while creating a tight seal. As her lips rubbed against each nerve in your shaft, her cheeks became completely hollow. It felt amazing.

She was unrealistically beautiful with a cock in her mouth. All of those pictures you took had absolutely nothing on this - the perfect face for sucking dick. Her expertise was clear as she started to look up at you, maintaining eye contact while your length repeatedly disappeared through her lips. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching when she released your cock.

“Does that feel good?” she asked casually as her hand temporarily replaced her lips.

“Good is…” you moaned softly, “an understatement.”

Her bright smile combined with the gentle strokes of her hand were making your cock twitch, but you weren’t read to cum just yet. This whole situation had made you more daring, more willing to push your limits, yet coherent sentences were still sometimes a struggle.

“Can I…” you groaned, her hand never giving your cock a break. “Please?”

“Can you what?” she chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your cock before smiling up at you with a confused expression.

Instead of attempting to speak again, you reached forward with both hands and pulled IU up. She followed your lead, still looking somewhat confused, when you pulled her onto your lap.

“The confidence,” she gasped before slowly grinding her hips on your crotch. Her wet pussy making direct contact with your saliva-coated cock. “I’ve never gone this far, what makes you special?”

“You tell me,” you whispered into her face while bringing your hands up the back of her skirt, planting them on her ass. “You’re the one who called me back.”

“That’s true,” she whispered back. Then she leant forward, right up in front of your face, and playfully bit your lower lip. “If you really want it, then take it.”

Ignoring the metallic taste in your mouth, you quickly moved one of your hands off her ass. You snaked it between her legs, feeling for your cock. With the base in your hand, you began to rub your tip against her folds.

“Put it in before I change my mind,” she begged softly into your face, her eyes angry yet compassionate.

You aligned your cock with her entrance while keeping your eyes fixed on each other. She slowly lowered herself upon you as her mouth gaped in delight. Your other hand squeezed down on her ass as she descended deeper down your cock, her pussy gripping even harder than her mouth was only moments ago.

Her pussy held your cock so tightly that it was initially challenging to move - arguably impossible. You gave IU some time to adjust before giving your hips a little pump to gauge her response; She gasped sharply, before taking control of her own movement. Slowly and delicately, she began to move up and down - relishing every inch of your cock inside her.

Now that she was really into it, she started to sweat. Her face screwed up in pleasure as your cock penetrated her deeply, and that seductive gaze she wore so expertly was no longer present. Your enthusiasm mirrored hers, and as she glided down, you softly pushed your hips deeper into her tight pussy.

“I’m getting…” you panted before leaning forward closer to her body, pulling your hands out of her skirt and embracing her back.

“On my face,” she whispered, her fingers running through your hair, pressing your face harder against her chest. “Tell me when,” she added with a soft moan.

You were straining to hold on while utterly out of breath from the panting and grunting. With how tight her pussy was, it was clear that you wouldn't last for much longer. While holding IU in your arms, you mustered your remaining strength and started pushing your hips up as quickly and forcefully as you could.

“Now!” you cried out into her chest when the pressure was too much.

She quickly leaped from your lap, leaving your cock twitching and poised to blow at the slightest touch. She was too swift for you when you attempted to grab it on your own, using her soft fingers to stroke you as she dropped into position. Your cock started spraying white lines before her knees even managed to make contact with the floor.

“Ah!” she squealed as she got onto the floor, her hand gently pumping your cock as it blasted your cum onto her.

There was a lot. IU’s entire forehead was painted white, the enthusiasm in your crotch launching your cum harder than you could have ever imagined. Ignoring the first couple that missed completely, each splatter on her face made her recoil just slightly, her eyes shut tight.

“Wow,” she mumbled, using her pinky finger to wipe the corners of her eyes before opening them.

Even though you wanted to say something, you were too winded to even attempt. You settled with watching as she walked over to grab some tissues off the desk, first wiping her hand and then bringing the entire box over to the couch where she sat next to you.

“That was a lot of cum,” she said casually while starting to wipe it from her face.

“Sorry,” you panted, starting to slowly recover.

“Don’t apologize,” she laughed, handing you a tissue as well. “It just means you liked the massage.”

“Why did you…?” you asked as you sat up straight and began wiping yourself off.

“Just as a thank you for the amazing shoot,” she answered.

“But you asked for me specially.”

She turned to face you, cum still all over her face.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You’re cute.”

Her comment made you shy, and also made you very aware of your pants still being around your ankles. You awkwardly bent forward and pulled them up before reaching for your bag and pulling out a wet wipe which you gave to IU.

“Always the sweetheart,” she said kindly while accepting the wipe. “Maybe that’s why I like you.”

“Oh, well, since you like me and all that, maybe I can become your regular photographer?” you suggested hopefully. “We’re still friends, right?”

She leaned towards you and kissed your cheek.

“Sure, but next time maybe I’ll just let you finish inside,” she giggled. “This was way too messy.”

---

A/N:

I wonder how many people could have predicted an IU fic. I'll admit, even I wouldn't have predicted this a week ago, yet here we are with a random 8k words release. Please pardon any mistakes!

Hopefully you guys like it, I wrote it fairly quickly. Special thanks to @capslocked for doing a preread, and @turtleturbulence for helping me pick a cover picture (also for elevating my IU mood lately)!

At this point I have a few more idols I want to write short little one-shots for, but I also have a lot of motivation to work on my Dating Seraphs series. Expect updates soon, I have a lot of writing inspiration at the moment!

#kpop smut #smut #iu smut #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #iu

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sugusatosluut · 4 months

Text

Megumi Fushiguro and Ino Takuma x female!reader

MDNI✨

Heads up: characters are aged up in this one {18+} Smut, poly, reader has different dynamics with both men, sub!reader, sorta dom megumi, sorta dom Ino. Enjoy!

Megumi and Ino enjoyed your presence. Your calm demeanor and sweet smile reminded them of Utahime in some weird way even though you were her student. It made sense. Your constant efforts to protect them never went unnoticed. They watched you get praised by Nanami and Gojo constantly and to be honest, both of them felt a little jealous. Not because of the praise, but because of how you reacted to it. Gojo’s version of praising you was different than Nanami’s. Gojo would always lean slightly down to your level and get right in your face to tell you things that only the two of you could hear, making you nervous as he smiled at you, his minty breath hitting your face. That always made Megumi itch. He’d always thank you for protecting his students. Nanami on the other hand exchanged his praise in cordial dinners and expressing his gratitude towards you by making small talk and flashing a soft smile, ending in him paying the bill *literally every time*. Both men knew you weren’t materialistic, but wanted to give you something to always remind you of their gratitude, and that was the only way they knew how. You were always thankful.

You’ve known Megumi and Ino for a while.. your relationship with them was extremely private, the only rules were no pda outside of the privacy of your own homes. Megumi and Ino also agreed not to talk about it to anyone else either. The sorcerer world is hard enough being judged by higher ups and classmates alike.

Your relationship with both men were of different worlds. Outside of home, Megumi was very quiet and independent. He sometimes can be found by Itadori or by himself. Rarely he’d be next to you or gojo. It’s just a thing he has. The people closest to him, he’s rarely around. Megumi in private was very passionate and vocal about making you feel good, you’re his princess. His need for you to be on top riding him and to make love to you was very clear. Don’t get me started on after sex cuddles.. you need to be laying on him or under him. No in between. Ino on the other hand, in public he’s always got his eye on you, observing you like Nanami does. He’s always by your side and happy to stay there. He’s very puppy-like. In private, ino was very attentive to your moans. He hates when people outside the relationship touch you. Once Yuuji had given you a hug that lasted a little too long for Ino’s liking, he punished you in private for it, edging you the whole night while he came several times. Megumi and ino took all your social and emotional queues more serious after they further figured out how certain things made you feel.

This one night in particular really had both of them heated.

After a long mission lasted a couple weeks of tracking down and exorcising a special grade curse, you guys checked in with your mentors and shoko. The boys weren’t hurt too badly and you refused to let anyone touch you the whole ride back to Tokyo. It was a traumatic experience, but instead of confiding in your boys, you had become excessively and exceptionally difficult to them. Gojo sat next to you, dropping his blindfold. “You okay?” He asked.

You stared at your feet.

“It’s okay to not be okay sweetheart. Why don’t you let Ino and Megumi take you home huh? Maybe you just need a couple days off to rest. My office is open anytime.” Gojo said playing with some of your long hair.

“I usually don’t agree with Satoru, but Ino and Fushiguro are the most responsible for this task. You clearly need some proper care and your friends are the best people to give that to you. Please, if you understand, just nod love. I know it’s hard to speak and right now it’s hard to understand, but having a scar is better than the latter of your options right now.” Nanami caressed your hands, kneeling in front of you.

You nodded, internally biting your lip.

“Megumi, you guys can head home. Text me when you’re safe.”

Megumi nodded.

At home the boys hopped into the shower with you, washing the stained blood off of your skin carefully.

“Not so hard Fushiguro. She still needs her skin.” Ino hissed at him.

“What do you think I’m doing Ino?” Megumi asked rolling his eyes as he washed your skin.

“Being an idiot.” Ino smirked

Megumi stopped all his motion in a sarcastic manner. It made a small smile and a short giggle come from your soft lips. They both froze in place, looking at eachother with wide eyes.

“D’you hear that?” Ino smirked.

“Little angel’s got her laugh back. There’s that pretty smile.” Megumi sighed in relief.

You leaned into their touch, relieved that you were home safe with them. As they showered off with you, everything that happened felt like a blur.

“Angel, you did such a great job today. Let us spoil you.” Ino suggested.

You nodded your head in agreement, but Megumi decided he wanted to start off. He roughly kissed you and felt you up. It was thrilling. He traveled down to your waist, but since you were all naked anyways, he decided to get right to work. He sucked on your clit roughly, small moans escaping your lips as he made out with your lower ones. “Be more careful out there with us.” He said pausing for a moment. You whined.

“I’m not giving you anymore until you say yes.” Megumi stated at you.

“Fushiguro- come on that’s just cruel!” Ino cried out as you removed his dick from your mouth.

“Yes-mmph” you moaned.

“Yes what?” He said kissing around your puffy clit.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you were about to cave.

“C’mon princess just let him have it. You know he wants it bad.” Ino smirked, grabbing your face.

“Yes daddy.” You sobbed as Megumi finally let you get close on his tongue. The noises were too much for you, too overstimulating as the two men stopped their pace so you could sink down onto Ino first.

“Nice work Fushiguro, you got her all nice and wet for us. There’s no way our precious Angel can’t take us both at the same time.” Ino smiled while caressing your face.

“Calm down Ino, you’re too riled up, you’re gonna end up hurting her.”

“Oh you’re one to talk skin scraper.”

“C’mon, knock it off.”

“You know she likes it a little rough. Why don’t we just give her what she wants?” Ino said.

“Are you stupid? We need to take our time. She’s hurt.” Megumi argued

“Megs- I can take it. I want it. If it hurts too bad I’ll use the safe word.” You pouted at him.

He sighed and both of the men positioned your hole over their throbbing cocks. Megumi was the one that had your legs in the air, so he let Ino slide into you first.

“Fuck- so wet for us baby.” Ino whined.

Ino helped position you up so you could take megumi’s swollen cock as well. The two men bounced you up and down on their hard lengths, making you a moaning whimpering mess.

“God- don’t squeeze me like that.” Megumi grunted between his teeth.

“You trying to make us cum early baby?” Ino smirked at you.

“N-no! Please just keep fucking me!” You screamed out.

They obliged, bouncing you up and down on their lengths, making you their own personal flashlight in that moment. You felt them throb inside you simultaneously.

“M’so close princess.” Megumi panted, biting your neck in places you didn’t even know could feel so good.

Ino’s lips and tongue traveled all over your breasts, latching onto your right nipple. He was careful, only nipping you once or twice. He couldn’t help it.

“God you’re so tight. Isn’t she Fushiguro? She’s perfect.” Ino praised you.

Megumi grabbed your hair, balling it up in his fist as he pulled your head back to him.

“You’re so tight, I think we might cum inside- is that oky with you princess? Do you wanna be filled up with our love?” Megumi groaned in your ear.

“Gah- yes please I want it all.” You screamed out.

The two men continued their pounding on your swollen pussy, you squirted and they came right after, panting hard. You were all filled up, they were all out of breath.

They pulled out and sandwiched you in between them again as they started your aftercare routine. It wasn’t often that you three were able to have moments like this. Even though you were hurt, you still wanted every bit of this with the two of them forever. They kissed your forehead, giving you sweet words and love even though you were falling asleep fast.

“We love you, princess.”

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sepherinaspoppies · 16 days

Text

Only If For A Night (ii/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: physical assault, derogatory behavior, mentions of rape, blood, violence, Aemond sorta unhinged in protection mode lol.

wc: 3,271

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt i

notes: lol so I've decided to make multiple chapters of this series I hope that's okay :)

When she was a little over the age of six, she remembers when her mama happened to be two hours late to pick her up from elementary school. She stood outside the school gates with her Hello Kitty backpack and her Bratz Dolls lunchbox in hand, waiting until she was the only kid left.

When she was close to giving up and deciding to walk the fifteen minute walk home, a tall dark haired woman with sunglasses stood in front of her offering her a ride home. She was a bit hesitant at first, the woman was a complete stranger, yet the way she was dressed, elegant with an expensive buttoned green trench coat and a Chanel bag, made her wonder what harm could be done in taking up the kind offer. The woman looked rich enough to adopt a kid of her own and besides she was a woman, just like her mama.

The woman must have seen the uncertain look in her face, resulting in her pulling out a Paleta Payaso out of her bag and saying she had more in her car if she simply followed. She remembers smiling and nodding, taking the woman’s hand while she unwrapped her favorite candy.

Mere seconds before getting into the car, she heard her mama call out to her and before she had time to explain, the woman in the green trench coat was gone into thin air. The only trace of her was the chocolate marshmallow candy in her hand…

Don’t take candy from strangers! Her mama warned. Except she did.

That occurrence that had been stored in her memory was what awoke her. There was a burn in her eyes as the sun’s rays hit directly at them from the window, blinding her vision. She wondered if her abuela intentionally opened up the blinds to get her ready for their usual mile walk around the plaza.

Except, she received no response after the three times she had called her out.

Odd.

She gradually sat upright, wincing at the pain radiating throughout her back. Gods, how long did I sleep for? She mused before releasing a long yawn, stretching out the ache within her muscles.

Immediately, she feels her stomach drop down to her feet as she takes in her surroundings. All at once she starts to recollect everything that Alyssandra did and said.

The tea. The blood. The marigolds. The sapphire…

She ponders if all had been some sick cruel joke or a scam to steal some pesos out of her mercado bag. Unfortunately, she had none. Maybe ten pesos which basically converted into sixty cents. Not much could be bought from that.

“Alyssandra?” She calls out, though it’s proven to be useless. It appeared that the cottage had no other occupants but herself. A series of spewed curses leaves her lips as she but all feels a strain in her back and neck. The saying of laying in a bed of rock, couldn’t be any more truer.

After a few stretches and rubs to her neck, she begins her search for her belongings: her dress, her mercado bags, and her Fire and Blood book. But to her bewilderment, none of her stuff laid previously on where she saw them last.

Everything of hers was gone. Or better yet, stolen by that bruja. Including her wallet, her groceries, her shoes, and even her bra and underwear.

Great. Shoeless and commando it is.

Without turning back, she exits the rustic cottage and tries to figure out some kind of explanation that didn’t sound implausible in the ears of her abuela.

Adivina qué abuela, en lugar de tomar un uber fui estúpidamente a la casa de un extraño porque estaba lloviendo. Y una bruja me robó mis cosas y me drogó. Por eso estoy vestida así, sin tus compras y sin zapatos. (Guess what grandma, instead of taking an uber I stupidly went to a stranger 's house since it was raining. And a witchy woman stole my stuff and drugged me. So that's why i'm dressed like this, without your groceries, and without shoes)

The word ‘tonta’ lingered in her head with the same scolding tone as her abuela’s. Yea she was tonta alright.

She figured with Alyssandra gone and the fact that she thieved her belongings, she sure would not miss a bundle of cempasuchiles from her garden. They were fresh and bright enough for the ofrenda and it was at least something she could bring back after being robbed.

She uses the small mental notes as a guide to lure her back to the pueblo and halts halfway into the forest depicting two vital things into her surroundings. One, it was daytime without the residual wet smell one would distinguish after it rained. Two, the grass beneath her feet was free from moisture as if it had not rained and stormed one bit.

Strange.

Instead, she smelled something faint amidst smoke and ash and something else she couldn’t quite identify. She shrugs, maybe someone left out the carne asada on the grill for far too long. (roasted meat)

The bundle of flowers in her hands nearly drops once she fully exits the forest, she expects to see the street that she had taken with Alyssandra but to her puzzlement she is met with an open field of uncut grass and hills that she had never seen before.

As far as she knew the pueblo only had mountains. For a moment she thinks she took a wrong turn out, but she was certain this was the same very path that she followed Alyssandra to. However, curiosity turns into panic, when she spots a large gothic looking castle in the distance that resembles where a particular vampire, Dracula, lived in.

Except this castle appeared to be in ruins or decaying and something told her that not only might have the Dracula resided in there but many ghosts as well.

Where the fuck am I?

It’s not long until she hears loud hoofs in the nearby distance, galloping closer and closer. She hides between a large tree and some bushes, covering up her mouth to restrain her heavy breathing and panting.

She peeks through her shoulder, spotting three men high on their horses wearing some sort of armor medieval knights would wear. In the middle of their chests, a green surcoat was worn over their armor, a golden three headed dragon engraved in the center.

A sigil.

The marking was vaguely familiar from somewhere. Some place. Something.

Through the corner of her eye, she sees all three men coming to a sudden halt. Not too far from where she hides, a middle aged man saunters with his head hung low examining thoroughly at the ground. He hums as his eyes find hers over the end of the trail of faint footsteps, giving her a cruel ‘I’ve got you’ tight lipped smile.

Fuck.

“Look at what we have here!” She gasps, the man grips her forearm impossibly tight, forcing her out of hiding into the views of the others. “We found ourselves a whore!” He whistles as the others laugh. “She’d be good use to us back at camp. Take her with,” Another man snickers.

Rage seethes right through her, “No, let me go. I’m not a whore!” She sneers, pushing his hands away from her body as the man snarls and takes a hold of the roots of her hair but she is quick to act as she curls her hand into a fist socking him straight in the side of his nose.

In that moment, she was thankful for learning such a bold move she mimicked from a Lucha Libre fight her cousins invited her to. (professional wrestling)

The man lets out a painful groan, holding a very bloody nose between his fingers, anger written all over his face. “You fucking bitch,” He hissed, using the back of his hand to slap her so brutally that it sends her directly to the dirt.

A metallic taste swims around her mouth, no doubt her own blood and looking at the few drops on the grass all but confirms it. She hears the other men laughing and she feels too hazy and shocked by it all to continue to fight.

“R’ ye done?” The man asks. She knows he is talking to her, and she looks up at him with furry eyes as she spits her blood against the top of his shoes as an answer.

All four of them rode back in silence. They cut through most of the trees with ease, passing by other knights with the same sigil printed on their chest, circling around a large cliff that hoisted up the ruined castle. Those who were not guarding, hauled lines of other contrarily dressed knights over wagons. Most likely prisoners, she assumed.

Gerald, whom she came to know as the knight who struck her, kept her securely bound with a knife to her throat as a warning to not try and fight him. She knew it was a foolish move to do so. But at some point, she deliberately pushed herself forward against the knife hoping this all had been some weird dream or hallucination that she could wake from.

But to her frustration, it surely was not.

Every single thing about this seemed odd… How did Alyssandra expect her to find a sapphire in this place? And where exactly had Alyssandra send her to?

So far, she’d been led astray, drugged, displaced (to put it lightly), insulted and assaulted. And somehow, she knew her journey had only just begun.

The smell of smoke and ash became more amplified as they barreled further up the cliff. She but all felt like a tiny ant amongst the rubble once the four of them arrived inside the castle’s gates.

There were five towers in total, she counted, all of them tall but not equally the same height. Erosion was a plausible effect of why the castle was in ruins. However, as she looked closely it was quite clear that it was not caused by natural agents of wind or water but that of fire.

But what kind of fire melts stone?

They stopped near the stables, where more men similar to them sat on wooden benches either dining or sharpening their tools. Tents were set up near the most bizarre looking tree she had ever seen. It had eyes with what appeared to be blood pouring out them, leaves that looked like hands waving to her as the branches pendulated.

“Move,” The guard said after he carried her off the mount. She glanced at her possible options of routes for escape. Not many were good enough for a safe return back to the cottage or better yet the woods. It would be a stupid move to run the way they came, guards guarded the main gates and most of the town.

Her best bet was going through the small hallway opening that led inside the castle itself. Perhaps through there, there might be some kind of exit that was unguarded.

No.

“Did ye not hear me, whore? Move!”

She gritted her teeth in fury as Gerald pushed her in the path of the tents.

All color and emotion drained from her face when she heard it. Screams and cries and small pleadings of ‘no’. Groans, growls, and the slaps of skin echoed right back.

At that very moment, it hit her that she was overhearing the acts of rape.

She felt her heart drop down to her stomach. Anger, horror, icy and deep sluiced through her for what these evil and vile men were doing. As she glanced up, tall flagstaffs waving tripartite pale, blue, red, and green on white sigil dresses up in the sky.

Their clothing…

She wanted so much to hurt them as they did to the women. Perhaps even more. Not a single person attempted to put an end to this and she had a feeling that they wouldn’t either. What kind of place did Alyssandra send her? And why did she choose this one?

Why Alyssandra?

She swallowed that useless and weak feeling that rested in her throat. If she couldn’t save them, she could have a chance in saving herself.

She glanced between the small opening and the knights, deciding. If her calculations were correct, she had a sixty percent chance of outrunning them and potentially hiding inside the melted castle. Luckily she was small enough to fit into tiny surfaces.

The guard shrieked as she stomped heavily on his foot and struck him right in the place she hit him from before. And with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she broke out in a run before anyone had a chance to seize her.

By how fast she was running, one would’ve thought she was in the olympics. If her high school gym teacher could see her now. Perhaps she could’ve finally given her an A.

She saw one corridor unguarded and open and without hesitation, she took it. She glanced behind her, noticing a few men catching up to her and while her feet started to ache she ignored it and continued to run faster.

Carelessly and unknowingly, she felt the front part of her body collide against cold hard metal, causing whatever she clashed in to move.

It was then when she saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Stop. Go. Now.

Rage sketched in his features at first. Then his eye locked into hers and that rage quickly went away into something she couldn’t quite describe.

Shock? Awe? As if he finally found what he was in search of.

“It’s you,” He said, his lone violet eye wide and wild as he stumbled backwards, a hand clutching at his chest.

Me?

She drunk in the rest of his appearance. He was exceptionally tall, the kind of tall where she could already feel a strain in her neck from looking up.

He appeared to be not that much older than her, perhaps around mid twenties the most. His hair, curated into a half up-half down hairstyle, was an angelic type of silver that reached just about the middle of his chest. It looked silky smooth and soft and she fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

A scar covers and paints the left side of his face underneath a leather eyepatch that suits him so well. Something about him feels eerily familiar. She had seen him before but to put a name on him was difficult.

This definitely was going to bother her.

She watched as he brought a hand to the left side of his chest, about to speak again when the guard from before came, gripping harshly at her forearm. “My Prince, I offer my sincere apologies. She outran us and–” Gerald’s anxious explanation was interrupted by the man as he held up his hand to silence him.

Prince?

Of course he’d be a prince. With hair that lucious and shiny and silver— Her lips parted open and her eyes widened in pure realization.

The sigil on the surcoats and on the banners. The black castle where they had taken her...

Holy fucking shit!

The one and only, Aemond ‘One Eye’ Targaryen, stood directly in front of her. How was this possible? How could it be? He was just a character. How could he be real?

Que mierda’s esto? (What the fuck is this?)

His expression shifted and his lone eye darkened, noticing her very sheer attire that left nothing to the imagination to what was underneath. Unfortunately to Aemond, if he could notice the outline of her breasts and hips, so could the eyes of his men. And he could not have that. No.

Her body was only for his eye to see. No one else.

So Aemond tore away his crimson cape from his armor, wrapping it delicately around her body, making her skin tingle with shivers.

“Thank you,” She manages to squeeze out. The top of Aemond’s lip lifted for a millisecond until it disappeared as he took heed of remnants of dried blood in the corner of her lip.

The one eyed prince became enraged, his lips turning into a sneer as his hand gripped tightly at the hilt of his sword. Who had dared to touch what was his? Especially in such a violent way.

“Which one?” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with an edge of unruliness. All she needed was to say the name of the assaulter and he would kill him.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Aemond stepped impossibly closer, “Which one did this to you?” He asked again, tone harder as he gently traced his thumb to the swollen flesh of her lip. At her wince, Aemond was readying to kill the entirety of the army.

It didn’t go by unnoticed by Aemond, the way she shifted uncomfortably against the hands of the guard that was holding her in place.

Him.

He wanted so much to peel every inch of the man’s skin off his body for all the people of Harrenhal to see or mayhaps sever his fingers and make him eat it. Death by his dragon, Vhagar, was too quick. Aemond knew his dragon had not eaten and his corpse could be something of a light snack. But it all was too easy. He yearned for this man to die a painful death. Even if it meant one less guard for his brother’s army. Aemond abhorred any kind of violence directed towards women. Especially to his one and only.

“You,” Aemond pointed towards the guard with his finger. “Stand there” Aemond gestured towards the pile of decaying bodies of House Strong. She trembled in horror, her face going pale like the color of her chemise as she saw Aemond swiftly strike the guard right across his face in the same location he had slapped her.

She heard the man cry his apologies but Aemond was not having any of it. “It’s not me who you should be apologizing to. It’s her,” He pointed his sword towards her. The guard redirected his empty apologies to her but she stood frightened to say anything.

“Now which hand was it? The left or the right?” The man didn’t answer for he did not have time to. Aemond’s patience had always been thin, especially now as his one and only was here.

If she hadn’t thrown up before she did now as all hell broke loose. Two detached arms were added into the pile followed by high pitched screams of the now armless guard crying for mercy from the one eyed prince.

She should have run from such violence. Gone back to the little cottage from where she came from now that she had the chance to escape. However she was worried what the repercussions might be especially if what she read was true about the one eyed prince being ruthless and merciless.

What would he do to her?

Aemond had turned to face his one and only, wanting nothing more to take her up the castle and undress her and make her his now that he found her. To his dismay, he would not do such a thing until they were bound in marriage to one another. And when that day came he would be at her disposal worshiping every inch of her skin like the very image of a Queen she is.

“Never again,” He whispered before he turned. The guard’s head was separated from his body in the blink of an eye.

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