Icymi <3 - Blog Posts
three months
pairing: peter parker x fem!reader
synopsis: peter reminds you just how much he's missed you.
word count: 2.1k
warnings: fluffy makeup sex, minors dni !!!
a/n: happy new year!! i hope this year brings you so much joy <3 this is my first time writing smut so let me know what you think!! try to spot the tasm2 references :p
it's been three months since peter decided to leave.
and it was impossible to not miss what once was. you couldn't help but miss those big, brown doe eyes. you couldn't help but miss the gentle touches he left on your skin in passing. you couldn't help but miss how he would try his hardest to get you to laugh after a bad day. and you couldn't help but miss the empty promise he spoke to you almost every day,
"i'm never letting you go."
and now, as you lay in bed, clad only in his faded blue jacket and your favorite underwear, you couldn't help but miss how good his body felt against yours.
it's been three months since peter decided he wasn't good for you.
peter had come to your window one night after a night on patrol. he could only utter words of worry, letting you know just how much danger he was putting you in by wearing the mask.
you were reluctant about it at first, of course. you didn't want peter to decide your path for you. but you knew he only wanted to keep you safe. and you knew he wouldn't give it up.
so you gave in.
you weren't a total disaster without him. you knew you could go on without him. but that didn't make it hurt any less. you built a world with peter, allowed yourselves to get lost in each other. how could you not still love him?
it's been three months since peter met you at your window.
so you were a little startled to hear familiar taps echo through your room. the sound snapping you out of your thoughts, you look up to find peter just outside your window. your mind, along with your heart, raced a mile a minute as you took him in. he was standing on the fire escape, offering you the slightest smile.
still dorky as ever.
you hesitated, not quite sure you were ready to see him after what felt like an eternity. nevertheless, you managed to peel the sheets off your body, feeling only slightly exposed in front of him.
unlocking the window, you take a step back, eager to hear what peter has to say.
"hi," he whispers, a small grin etching across his lips as he recognizes his jacket.
"hi," you repeat, suddenly unable to find words of your own.
"can i come in? it's kinda cold out here." he's fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, a habit you only now realized you missed.
"yeah," you let out a breathy laugh before continuing, "of course, pete."
he was a little awkward climbing through the small opening, but that was all part of the peter parker charm you'd come to love so much. and once he was in, standing in front of you, all you could manage to do was stare at him. you weren't sure where to go from here.
peter took a step closer to you, further fogging your mind. there was minimal space between you now—and you were well aware.
it's been three months since peter looked you in the eyes.
and it was only now could you see the few tears that managed to escape and fall onto his flushed cheeks.
"can i hold you?" he asks just above a whisper. the slight crack in his voice makes your heart ache. you nod without any hesitation, excited to feel his touch once again. he slowly brings his hands up to your waist, gently squeezing. the seemingly innocent action makes you weak.
it's been three months since peter has touched you.
it was hard to fathom how the mere touch of his fingertips could make you so hot. you feel your face heat up at the abrupt thought of peter between your legs. and as you stare into your ex-lover's eyes, you wish he would say something, anything, to divert your mind.
"i'm sorry," he starts, letting out a small chuckle, "i couldn't stand being away from you any longer."
with confusion clouding over your features, you begin to probe, "peter i don't un-"
"i was so wrong, y/n. so so wrong." one of his hands comes up to slightly graze your cheek. "you're my path, y/n. you're my path."
the word he chose to emphasize does something to you.
"i'm never letting you go, again." he somehow manages to bring himself closer, now resting his forehead against yours. he shakes his head, repeating, "never, baby."
you couldn't help but smile thinking about your next words, "prove it." peter matches your smile before connecting his lips to yours.
it's been three months since peter has kissed you.
and with that singular kiss, the man has your mind running wild thinking of all the things you want him to do to you.
his hands leave your waist, instinctively finding the curve of your ass. "i've missed you," he mutters against your lips. "so much." his actions emphasize his words as he fervently grabs fistfuls of you. reaching your hands up, you tug on his familiar unruly locks. he lets out a small whimper, letting you know just how much he needs you.
growing hungry, peter glides one hand under your thigh, followed quickly by the next. you let out a squeal as peter swiftly picks you up, already feeling his cock straining against his jeans. you couldn't help but smile between kisses.
he's finally yours again.
peter hurriedly walks over to your bed, hands sliding across your back as he gently places you upon the sheets. that’s one thing that’s never changed about him—always so gentle.
nudging your sides and humming against your mouth, he mutters “let me see you, pretty girl.”
he makes you dizzy.
you reluctantly unwrap yourself from him, now feeling small under peter's gaze. seeing you turn your head away, peter places a finger under your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to him. and with a toothy grin, peter speaks a low “hi,”
“hi,” you repeat, overwhelmed by his tender demeanor.
peter leans in once again, this time nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. he places scattered kisses across your neck, occasionally nipping at your skin.
drawing his hands down to your waist, he slips his fingers under the worn out jacket adorning your body.
your body retreats at first, overstimulated after months without his touch. peter quickly catches on, pulling back, concern littering his features. “is this okay?” he asks, not wanting to lose you just as soon as he got you back.
“yeah, it’s okay,” bringing a hand up to his face, you run your fingers over his now rosy lips. “just forgot how good you felt.”
“you’ll be the end of me, y/n.” he smiles, lips quickly returning to yours.
peter’s hands find your body, his actions hurried this time. finding the zipper of your jacket, peter swiftly pulls the small piece of metal down your torso, only now noticing you had gone without a bra tonight.
“fuck baby,” he says just above a whisper, thumbs coming up to softly run over your nipples. “you’re so pretty, petal”
that fucking nickname.
peter brings his head down, connecting his lips to one of the erected buds. the feeling making you lose your breath. running your hand through his hair, you plead, “peter, please. do something.” “eager?” peter teases as he pulls away, a cocky smile plastered on his lips. you roll your eyes as you your hands find the hem of his shirt, tugging it off.
you've missed his body so much—missed him so much.
your heart fluttered at the view in front of you. placing your legs over his shoulders, peter found his way between our legs. he littered soft kisses over each of your thighs, careful to remain eye contact with you. “peter,” you whine, not sure if you could take any more of his teasing. taking the hint, peter steadily slides the lacy material down your legs.
it's been three months since peter has tasted you.
your back arches slightly as peter traces his tongue over your slit. his fingers quickly follow suit, only then ghosting his tongue lightly over your clit. “i’ve missed the way you taste," he murmurs against you. tugging slightly on his hair, you silently beg for something more.
making his way up your body, peter littering small kisses here and there—until finally connecting his lips to yours once again. his hands now occupied with the button of his jeans. matching peter's eagerness, your hands rush to remove the tattered jacket from your body.
this was met with a soft "no," from peter. hands coming up to cup your face. he's slow with his words, "leave it on," leaving a small peck to the tip of your nose, he continues, "wanna fuck you in my clothes." his words leave you trembling—the small smile he offers a stark contrast to his words. a small "okay," was all you could muster as you laid back, willing to give yourself fully to him.
hovering over you now, fully unclothed, peter gives you an endearing smile. "what?" you mumble, bringing your hands to cover your face.
the silence is calm, full of love.
"i love you," he whispers, pulling your arms down. his eyes find yours and you swear you could see the sincerity of his words. overwhelmed with all the emotions those simple words brought you, you remind him, "i haven't heard you say those words in months, pete" this time feeling small under your gaze, peter's eyes shift to nothing in particular.
"i love you." you finally repeat. his eyes light up, a goofy smile dancing across his lips. "i love youuu" he drags out playfully, sending you into a small fit of giggles. "god, i love that sound." he says, voice now low and full of ardor.
he knew exactly what to say and how to say it—your peter.
you wrap your arms around his neck, the blue fabric contrasting beautifully against his skin. now you know why he bought this thing. keeping your eyes on him, peter rolls himself into you effortlessly, as if he never left.
it's been three months since peter has fucked you.
"peter," you whine, your darling boy now stretching you out. you felt so full after months of feeling empty. "you okay?" he's gentle, more than willing to take as much time as you need. "yeah, i'm okay." you smile, "just needed a moment. go ahead." "that's my girl," he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back into you.
god he fucks good.
"look so good in my clothes, baby." peter's movement falters, bringing your leg up to wrap around his waist—your back arching at the new position. the heat in your stomach growing with each thrust.
you two are fully consumed, wanting nothing more than to feel each other. familiarizing yourselves with each other's bodies like you did all those years ago. he's your everything right now—and always.
peter picks up his pace, pressing his forehead against yours—making eye contact as he pounds into you. "feels so good," he murmurs, glancing down at where your bodies connect. needing something more, you lift your hips up to meet him, creating the perfect rhythm. his thrusts become unforgiving, but never too much.
"fuck, pete," you cry, now looking into his eyes. "m gonna cum," your hand goes to find your center, only to be stopped by peter, quick to trace lazy circles over your clit, the overbearing sensation causing you to arch further into him. "that's my girl," he coos, "let go for me, baby,"
"peter," you mewl, now overcome by pleasure. pounding into you now once—twice, until he cums. peter drops his head into the crook of your neck, painting your walls with his hot cum.
"you okay?" he asks breathlessly. you could only respond with a simple yes. his cock twitches as he pulls out of you, moaning at the loss. the feeling of his cum spilling out of you leaves you high.
peter lifts his head, soft eyes gazing into yours now—always so pretty after a good fuck. the comfortable silence is broken by him, "i'm never leaving you again," his head shakes lightly as he says these words, "ever." a small smile forms on your lips, knowing just how much he means it. mirroring your smile, he continues, "and i'm gonna do everything in my power to make you believe that."
it's been three months and peter has never stopped loving you.
three months
pairing: peter parker x fem!reader
synopsis: peter reminds you just how much he's missed you.
word count: 2.1k
warnings: fluffy makeup sex, minors dni !!!
a/n: happy new year!! i hope this year brings you so much joy <3 this is my first time writing smut so let me know what you think!! try to spot the tasm2 references :p
it's been three months since peter decided to leave.
and it was impossible to not miss what once was. you couldn't help but miss those big, brown doe eyes. you couldn't help but miss the gentle touches he left on your skin in passing. you couldn't help but miss how he would try his hardest to get you to laugh after a bad day. and you couldn't help but miss the empty promise he spoke to you almost every day,
"i'm never letting you go."
and now, as you lay in bed, clad only in his faded blue jacket and your favorite underwear, you couldn't help but miss how good his body felt against yours.
it's been three months since peter decided he wasn't good for you.
peter had come to your window one night after a night on patrol. he could only utter words of worry, letting you know just how much danger he was putting you in by wearing the mask.
you were reluctant about it at first, of course. you didn't want peter to decide your path for you. but you knew he only wanted to keep you safe. and you knew he wouldn't give it up.
so you gave in.
you weren't a total disaster without him. you knew you could go on without him. but that didn't make it hurt any less. you built a world with peter, allowed yourselves to get lost in each other. how could you not still love him?
it's been three months since peter met you at your window.
so you were a little startled to hear familiar taps echo through your room. the sound snapping you out of your thoughts, you look up to find peter just outside your window. your mind, along with your heart, raced a mile a minute as you took him in. he was standing on the fire escape, offering you the slightest smile.
still dorky as ever.
you hesitated, not quite sure you were ready to see him after what felt like an eternity. nevertheless, you managed to peel the sheets off your body, feeling only slightly exposed in front of him.
unlocking the window, you take a step back, eager to hear what peter has to say.
"hi," he whispers, a small grin etching across his lips as he recognizes his jacket.
"hi," you repeat, suddenly unable to find words of your own.
"can i come in? it's kinda cold out here." he's fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, a habit you only now realized you missed.
"yeah," you let out a breathy laugh before continuing, "of course, pete."
he was a little awkward climbing through the small opening, but that was all part of the peter parker charm you'd come to love so much. and once he was in, standing in front of you, all you could manage to do was stare at him. you weren't sure where to go from here.
peter took a step closer to you, further fogging your mind. there was minimal space between you now—and you were well aware.
it's been three months since peter looked you in the eyes.
and it was only now could you see the few tears that managed to escape and fall onto his flushed cheeks.
"can i hold you?" he asks just above a whisper. the slight crack in his voice makes your heart ache. you nod without any hesitation, excited to feel his touch once again. he slowly brings his hands up to your waist, gently squeezing. the seemingly innocent action makes you weak.
it's been three months since peter has touched you.
it was hard to fathom how the mere touch of his fingertips could make you so hot. you feel your face heat up at the abrupt thought of peter between your legs. and as you stare into your ex-lover's eyes, you wish he would say something, anything, to divert your mind.
"i'm sorry," he starts, letting out a small chuckle, "i couldn't stand being away from you any longer."
with confusion clouding over your features, you begin to probe, "peter i don't un-"
"i was so wrong, y/n. so so wrong." one of his hands comes up to slightly graze your cheek. "you're my path, y/n. you're my path."
the word he chose to emphasize does something to you.
"i'm never letting you go, again." he somehow manages to bring himself closer, now resting his forehead against yours. he shakes his head, repeating, "never, baby."
you couldn't help but smile thinking about your next words, "prove it." peter matches your smile before connecting his lips to yours.
it's been three months since peter has kissed you.
and with that singular kiss, the man has your mind running wild thinking of all the things you want him to do to you.
his hands leave your waist, instinctively finding the curve of your ass. "i've missed you," he mutters against your lips. "so much." his actions emphasize his words as he fervently grabs fistfuls of you. reaching your hands up, you tug on his familiar unruly locks. he lets out a small whimper, letting you know just how much he needs you.
growing hungry, peter glides one hand under your thigh, followed quickly by the next. you let out a squeal as peter swiftly picks you up, already feeling his cock straining against his jeans. you couldn't help but smile between kisses.
he's finally yours again.
peter hurriedly walks over to your bed, hands sliding across your back as he gently places you upon the sheets. that’s one thing that’s never changed about him—always so gentle.
nudging your sides and humming against your mouth, he mutters “let me see you, pretty girl.”
he makes you dizzy.
you reluctantly unwrap yourself from him, now feeling small under peter's gaze. seeing you turn your head away, peter places a finger under your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to him. and with a toothy grin, peter speaks a low “hi,”
“hi,” you repeat, overwhelmed by his tender demeanor.
peter leans in once again, this time nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. he places scattered kisses across your neck, occasionally nipping at your skin.
drawing his hands down to your waist, he slips his fingers under the worn out jacket adorning your body.
your body retreats at first, overstimulated after months without his touch. peter quickly catches on, pulling back, concern littering his features. “is this okay?” he asks, not wanting to lose you just as soon as he got you back.
“yeah, it’s okay,” bringing a hand up to his face, you run your fingers over his now rosy lips. “just forgot how good you felt.”
“you’ll be the end of me, y/n.” he smiles, lips quickly returning to yours.
peter’s hands find your body, his actions hurried this time. finding the zipper of your jacket, peter swiftly pulls the small piece of metal down your torso, only now noticing you had gone without a bra tonight.
“fuck baby,” he says just above a whisper, thumbs coming up to softly run over your nipples. “you’re so pretty, petal”
that fucking nickname.
peter brings his head down, connecting his lips to one of the erected buds. the feeling making you lose your breath. running your hand through his hair, you plead, “peter, please. do something.” “eager?” peter teases as he pulls away, a cocky smile plastered on his lips. you roll your eyes as you your hands find the hem of his shirt, tugging it off.
you've missed his body so much—missed him so much.
your heart fluttered at the view in front of you. placing your legs over his shoulders, peter found his way between our legs. he littered soft kisses over each of your thighs, careful to remain eye contact with you. “peter,” you whine, not sure if you could take any more of his teasing. taking the hint, peter steadily slides the lacy material down your legs.
it's been three months since peter has tasted you.
your back arches slightly as peter traces his tongue over your slit. his fingers quickly follow suit, only then ghosting his tongue lightly over your clit. “i’ve missed the way you taste," he murmurs against you. tugging slightly on his hair, you silently beg for something more.
making his way up your body, peter littering small kisses here and there—until finally connecting his lips to yours once again. his hands now occupied with the button of his jeans. matching peter's eagerness, your hands rush to remove the tattered jacket from your body.
this was met with a soft "no," from peter. hands coming up to cup your face. he's slow with his words, "leave it on," leaving a small peck to the tip of your nose, he continues, "wanna fuck you in my clothes." his words leave you trembling—the small smile he offers a stark contrast to his words. a small "okay," was all you could muster as you laid back, willing to give yourself fully to him.
hovering over you now, fully unclothed, peter gives you an endearing smile. "what?" you mumble, bringing your hands to cover your face.
the silence is calm, full of love.
"i love you," he whispers, pulling your arms down. his eyes find yours and you swear you could see the sincerity of his words. overwhelmed with all the emotions those simple words brought you, you remind him, "i haven't heard you say those words in months, pete" this time feeling small under your gaze, peter's eyes shift to nothing in particular.
"i love you." you finally repeat. his eyes light up, a goofy smile dancing across his lips. "i love youuu" he drags out playfully, sending you into a small fit of giggles. "god, i love that sound." he says, voice now low and full of ardor.
he knew exactly what to say and how to say it—your peter.
you wrap your arms around his neck, the blue fabric contrasting beautifully against his skin. now you know why he bought this thing. keeping your eyes on him, peter rolls himself into you effortlessly, as if he never left.
it's been three months since peter has fucked you.
"peter," you whine, your darling boy now stretching you out. you felt so full after months of feeling empty. "you okay?" he's gentle, more than willing to take as much time as you need. "yeah, i'm okay." you smile, "just needed a moment. go ahead." "that's my girl," he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back into you.
god he fucks good.
"look so good in my clothes, baby." peter's movement falters, bringing your leg up to wrap around his waist—your back arching at the new position. the heat in your stomach growing with each thrust.
you two are fully consumed, wanting nothing more than to feel each other. familiarizing yourselves with each other's bodies like you did all those years ago. he's your everything right now—and always.
peter picks up his pace, pressing his forehead against yours—making eye contact as he pounds into you. "feels so good," he murmurs, glancing down at where your bodies connect. needing something more, you lift your hips up to meet him, creating the perfect rhythm. his thrusts become unforgiving, but never too much.
"fuck, pete," you cry, now looking into his eyes. "m gonna cum," your hand goes to find your center, only to be stopped by peter, quick to trace lazy circles over your clit, the overbearing sensation causing you to arch further into him. "that's my girl," he coos, "let go for me, baby,"
"peter," you mewl, now overcome by pleasure. pounding into you now once—twice, until he cums. peter drops his head into the crook of your neck, painting your walls with his hot cum.
"you okay?" he asks breathlessly. you could only respond with a simple yes. his cock twitches as he pulls out of you, moaning at the loss. the feeling of his cum spilling out of you leaves you high.
peter lifts his head, soft eyes gazing into yours now—always so pretty after a good fuck. the comfortable silence is broken by him, "i'm never leaving you again," his head shakes lightly as he says these words, "ever." a small smile forms on your lips, knowing just how much he means it. mirroring your smile, he continues, "and i'm gonna do everything in my power to make you believe that."
it's been three months and peter has never stopped loving you.
𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮
➪ 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧
no warnings
“Stop! Stop it, okay?! I-I don’t know why you keep wasting money on me, I’m not broke and I did fine without you before and I still can now! So, stop trying to buy my affections!”
Your words, spoken in haste, and a mixture of embarrassment, had done far more harm than you could’ve imagined.
Satoru had always been a gift-giver. As long as his eyes had been on you, he’d bought you gift after gift, despite your protests. Whether it was a meal at a restaurant far too expensive or a trinket that ‘reminded him of you’, he spared no expense.
And while it was sweet in its own way, every time you watched him trade money for a gift, you felt an uncomfortable feeling twist in your stomach.
Since you were young, you’ve always taken care of yourself. Everything you had now came from years of hard work and suffering. You’d long learned not to trust gifts from others- it was almost certainly a trap.
For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why Satoru insisted on spending so much on you, but you wanted it to stop. It felt… dishonest. Surely, he didn’t believe that an endless wallet was the only thing you cared about?
But as you watched his smile disappear and his eyes lose their glimmer, you faltered. Surely, his smile wasn’t trembling, your eyes were playing tricks, they had to be.
“O-oh, I see… I didn’t mean to insinuate that you couldn’t, I just… never mind. I’ll leave you alone,” He whispered weakly. He smiled but it didn’t fit his face in the slightest. It was watery and wobbly and just plain wrong.
Before you could evaluate your mistake, he was gone. “I’m sorry to say this, Yn, but… that was most disappointing.”
You whipped around, almost having forgotten that Nanami had also been accompanying you.
“What do you mean? Just because you don’t care if he spends all his money, doesn’t mean I don’t have to!”
The sorcerer shook his head, clicking his tongue. “That is not what I meant. You’re smart, smart enough to know that he isn’t buying your affections.”
You scoffed, arms crossed. “Well, why else?” Nanami looked away, sighing. “I understand that people have taken advantage of you, and lied, but that’s not Gojo. He cares deeply for you and this is his way of showing it. Granted, it might not be the ideal way, but it’s his way nonetheless.”
You paused, not quite knowing how to respond. “Well, it’s too late now-“
“So you would give up so easily? This might not be my place but, Yn, he doesn’t look at anyone else the way you look at him. And I can tell that you look at him the same way!”
Nanami’s impassioned outburst took you by surprise, it being uncharacteristic for the usually mild-mannered blonde. You gulped, trying to rid yourself of the lump in your throat.
“B-but what do I say? What if he wants nothing to do with me?”
Nanami rolled his eyes, placing his fist on his waist. “This is Gojo we’re talking about. He wants you still. Apologize to him and tell him how you feel, it’s glaringly obvious, by the way,” He added teasingly.
You buried your face in your hands, a mix of embarrassment and shame mixing in your chest. “Thanks, Kento, I’m sorry to ditch you like this,” You smile sheepishly. Nanami spared you a small smile and waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be; I’ll be stopping by the bakery.”
With that reassurance, you let out a quiet laugh before making your way to where Satoru was sure to be. Even though Satoru had a perfectly good (and spacious) apartment, whenever he was upset by something, he could be found in a small abandoned park, usually looking up at the sky, whether day or night.
As you passed by a small dessert shop, the perfect way to apologize popped into your mind.
+
Just as you expected, Satoru was seated criss-cross in the grass, eyes glued to the sky. Knowing he could see you, even from behind, you held out the small bag as a peace offering.
From just a few feet away, you could hear his scoff. “Oh, so now you’re trying to ‘buy my affection’?” He grumbled petulantly.
You winced, but couldn’t deny that you had deserved it. Undeterred, however, you sat beside him and dropped the bag into his lap.
He shot you a skeptical look before opening it up and rifling through it. “Kikifuku and mochi? You must be desperate for my forgiveness,” He mocked, popping a mochi ball into his mouth.
You let the bite in his words roll over you and instead nodded. “I am, but… I understand if you don’t. I lashed out at you for no reason, but I wanted to let you know that I didn’t mean it and I’m very sorry,” You confessed.
You felt his eyes on you, and despite his sunglasses, you couldn’t bear to look into them, feeling too vulnerable. “Not forgive you? But you need me,” He grinned, a joking lilt in his voice. The corners of your lips lifted. “You’re right, I do,” You answered, catching him by surprise.
You heard rustling and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him set the bag of sweets down, his expression more serious than a moment ago.
“Earlier was just a misunderstanding, Yn, I’m not leaving you behind,” He promised, reaching out to hold your chin between his fingers, his eyes peeking over the black rims of his shades as he turned your face towards his.
“I know you have a hard time trusting others’ intentions, but I’ve never once believed you were that shallow, but I still don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Satoru smiled, letting his forehead rest against yours. “I’ll limit the gifts, but next time, don’t let your feelings build up. Let me love you the right way, yeah?”
You felt so many things that it was nearly overwhelming, but most of all you felt a love that you couldn’t contain. You could scarcely process your actions before you were cupping Satoru’s face in yours and pressing your lips to his.
Arguably not the way you envisioned this conversation going, but if the way the sorcerer held you tighter to him was anything to go by, he wasn’t complaining. His lips moved against yours in a way that nearly hypnotized you, robbing you of your ability to think or breathe.
All too quickly, he was pulling back, a bright grin spreading across his face. “So, you need me, huh?” He teased. You groaned, already regretting your honesty. “Sat-” But his lips were already on yours again before you could complain.
Maybe you didn’t regret it that much.
Vote for Sora Guys !!!!
hi luvs ♡!
my apologies for delaying the voting, i tried to upload them the quickest i possibly could with outside responbilities slowing me down!~
the voting for the final aes!ocnet awards are finally open! votes will stay open until december 16 which gives you heaps of time to vote! as usual, no spam votes are allowed as i will delete them all and it is a waste of time + please be kind to each other!
our rvsp form is currently up here! you do not have to be nominated or a member to host, present or perform so please apply before the spots are taken! i also will be uploading collective posts for each member’s awards as well as links to posts [ie the video edit] later this week with an interactive form for graphic coming on the last day of awards! so watch this space ♡
i hope you are all having a lovely day
~ luv paige ♡
ACKKKK THIS IS SO GOOD 🥹😭✨🫶🏻
❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ! ❞
❝ EVERYONE WANTS PROF GETO — IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! ❞
✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part three of the prof geto series)
✧ summary: you always had the wrong timing with professor geto -- first you were his student, then his T.A., and now it was the wrong place -- he’s moving to Kyoto. but you had a few weeks together before then -- so can you make them last?
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (for real), so much fluff (we've earned it), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, shower sex, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, surprise appearance by someone :)
✧ wc: 12,010 (is anyone surprised?)
✧ other parts: part one | part two | v-day special
Time was the one thing that seemed to always escape you and Suguru — fuck, timing was never your strong suit to begin with—if your late arrival to Suguru’s first class was any indication.
You always ended up too early or too late to places, your entire day spent waiting for an appointment in the middle of the day, and your meeting days often mixed up in your head. And now—
Your relationship had an expiration date before it had even started.
The question you asked when the message from the department head came through hung in the air of his office like a death announcement. And it almost was — the second death of not even the start of what could have been a relationship.
Suguru’s eyes can’t meet yours, brow furrowed as if he had thought hard enough, he could solve the problem of distance with a simple application of an ethical theory — but unfortunately Socrates nor Plato had invented any solutions for instantaneous travel.
So the elephant remained.
“When did you—“
“No,” he’s swallowing, his eyes meeting yours again — desperate, but not the desperation you had both felt a moment ago — the desperation felt in the throes of passion — no, this desperation was the one felt when clinging to sand slipping between your fingers, “let’s not talk about this, not right now,”
“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands slipping around your waist, and each brush of his lips steals away another ounce of sense from you, “we have to talk about—“
“I know we do, I know,” he murmurs between kisses, his fingers cupping your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone, “but I don’t want to think any more — I just want to be with you. I just want you,” and his voice breaks ever so slightly, and it cracks any reservations you have — just as this man always did, “but if you want to talk, we can talk right—“
And your lips cut off his sentence, only a moment’s pause before he’s melting into your touch again, your hands sliding against his bare chest, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours was — so much so that you wondered if the beating you heard was your own or his.
“Your place or mine?” and he blinks, as you kiss his jaw, a chuckle on your lips, “unless you’d like to fuck me in your office, I’ll have to admit it’s one of the things I’ve thought about,”
And god, all the blood in his body must have fled south in a half second with how much he aches for you, “Now who needs to watch their language?” His words are whispered against your neck, as he leans down to press a sweet kiss there, “what other things have you thought about?” His fingers find your chin, tilting your head until your gaze met his again — dark pools of lust stared back — and your thighs would have pressed together, if his knee wasn’t between them, teasingly rubbing against your far too damp panties.
“Patience, we have time for that,” and his eyes soften ever so slightly, an iota of relief rippling across his features.
“We do?” And it’s a question he needed to ask — had to ask, but that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to — because he knew it could break him.
“We do,” you pull him into a kiss, your lips sliding against his, “so the question remains, Professor,” you tease, and a shiver runs down his spine, “your place or mine?”
~~~
You end up at his place — the car ride there was relatively short, but far too long — wringing your hands in your lap, so you wouldn’t touch him. Because you know it would only take one touch — one touch for him to pull to the side of the road and pull you across the console and into his lap.
But you wanted to do this right — you needed to do this right. You had both waited long enough — you couldn’t hurry, not when you were both about to cross the finish line. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t toe it. And your fingers brush his outer thigh, and his eyes flicker over to you — a silent warning, and you knew you were playing with fire — the same fire that had burned you both time and time again, but this wasn’t his office. And you weren’t to let a goddamn phone stop you from having what you wanted.
And you wanted him — so bad — and from the way his gaze found yours, tongue flicking across his lips — he wanted you all the same. Your fingers just rested on his thigh, if only to ground yourself — as if touching him was the same as pinching yourself, to remind you that this wasn’t a dream. It was real — this was real.
It only became more real as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. He got out first, opening the door for you, as he offered you his hand, and helped you out, drawing close, too close for your brain to function — his lips brushing against your ear, “that’s for teasing me in the car,” you barely manage to gape at him, before he’s leading you inside, a palm resting on the small of your back, as you sneak a glance at him — cheeks still burning.
He was so beautiful — in every sense of that word. His dark hair fell in waves, strands slipping from his bun, assuredly from your tryst in his office; his lips were curled in a slight smile, as he pulled his keys from his pockets; and even his hands were gorgeous — they were so much bigger than yours, and his long fingers, lovely veins running across the back of his hands.
And you’re finally inside his apartment, as he holds the door open for you — the quiet click of the door makes your heart squeeze, his footsteps against the hardwood still when he’s behind you, his arms slowly curling around your waist. His lips ghost your neck, breath warming your skin, “should we talk first?”
You lean into his touch, your back pressed into his chest, his fingers lightly squeezing your hips, “we should,” and you should, you had to talk about what was going to happen, what this meant, what Kyoto means — but you want to just stay in this moment, you turn to look at him, and your noses brush, “but I don’t want talk right now,”
And his breath hitches, as your lips brush his, “But we will later?” his voice is barely above a whisper, as if even a word muttered above a whisper could break this moment.
“I promise we will,” you murmur, your lips curling, as you turn to face him fully, “but let’s not worry about later right now — there’s only one time that’s important, and that’s right now,”
“Paraphrasing Tolstoy?” He hums, his arms pull you flush to him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already rumpled fabric wrinkling further under your touch, “And what do you plan to do to me right now, Princess?”
“Oh I have many ideas,” you lean up and brush your lips against the cut of his jaw, delighting in the shiver you draw from him, “so many ideas, Professor — should I write an outline up?”
“Fuck the outline,” and his lips find yours, his arms curled around you, pressing you flush against him, “I have all I need in my arms right now — I’m sure you’ll give a wonderful oral presentation, now won’t you?” He hums, as his lips part yours a moment, his thumb dragging down your puffy, kiss bitten lips — “I already know you’re an incredible orator,” this fucker knew exactly what to say to make your knees buckle.
“And I know how good you are with your hands,” you guide them to your hips, “able to tear papers and pantyhose apart,” you teased as a tinge of red appeared across his pretty cheekbones, “I’ll expect a new pair by tomorrow,”
“Consider it a promise,” and he’s kissing down your neck now, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse jumping under his touch, “but I can’t promise that I won’t do the same thing again,”
And he’s guiding you to his bedroom, walking backwards, as his teeth nibble at a soft spot of your neck, your fingers finding his jaw to guide him back for another kiss when you pause.
“What is it?” And you’re reaching into your pocket for something, and then reaching into his as well, as he flinches, fingers far too close to a very sensitive spot, and both of your hands emerge with your phones, turning them off before tossing them onto his couch. And he chuckles, “no risks?”
“There’s already far too much risk when it comes to us — call it preemptive measures,” and you’re leaning back into a kiss, his lips curled in a smile, “no landlines right?”
And he laughs, nodding, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up, “Sure you aren’t a utilitarian at heart?”
“Well, you are certainly the best consequence, now aren’t you?” and he smiles the same smile that doomed you from the start—
“What a coincidence,” he murmurs, as he pulls you into his bedroom, helping you lie back on his bed, just as he imagined far too many times to be anywhere near ethical, — I was going to say the same about you.”
~~~
“Shouldn’t I be making you feel good first—“ Suguru sucks air through his teeth as your pretty lips press a kiss to his sensitive erection through his tenting boxers, a dark patch of his pre-cum visible on the fabric, “please, sweetheart—“
“This is for all the times your email and phone calls blueballed us—“ you smirk, teasing the head with your thumb through the fabric — “and I have to tease you — I mean Professor Geto begging me to suck to him off? Maybe I should make you work for it, write a paper on why you think I should let you cum in my mouth,” and he’s gritting his teeth, cock twitching in his boxers, your words far too effective, “tear it apart until you’re begging for it,” he’s swallowing thickly — and god, he’s so pretty like this, hair splayed out like a halo around his head, cheeks ruddy from his flush, and his chest rising and falling, teeth baring down on his lip, “but I’m much too kind for that,” you’re sliding down his boxers, his cock nearly slapping against his stomach, “and we’ve waited long enough,”
His cock was even gorgeous — truly what was he? Intelligent, kind, funny — and even his naked body was perfect — his cock was flushed red at the tip, black hair neatly trimmed dotted around it, a slight curve that you knew would feel far too good inside your cunt, and pretty veins you couldn’t wait to memorize—
You weren’t his favorite student for nothing after all.
You reach for his cock, smearing the thick beads of pre-cum along his length, kissing the tip, as your fingers slowly gripped the base. He grunts, a sigh leaving his lips, muscles tense as he tries not to rut into your hand and hang on to one iota of self control — and oh, you smirked, you’d do away with that soon enough.
“You think about me in this room, Suguru?” your fingers slowly start to pump him, his head falling back, “did you touch yourself to the thought of this?”
“Fuck, Princess—“ your lips curl.
“Is that a yes?” And you lean down, parting your lips for his length as your tongue traces a teasing trail down his vein, “or a no?” the tip of your tongue lapping at the pre-cum that leaked from his slit, “c’mon, Sugu, not so good to keep your student waiting — maybe I’ll drop the class,”
“I’ve thought about you — you know I have,” the words leave his lips, any hint of self control lost as his length presses against your cheek when you run a thick stripe with the flat of your tongue up his dick, “wanted to fuck you, taste you, make you scream my name—and,” his gaze softens ever so slightly as his only can in the midst of all this passion, “I wanted to wake up with you, make you breakfast, cuddle you—“
And he’s groaning, as you finally wrap your lips around his throbbing cock, tongue swirling around the tip, as his name left his lips in reverence, long fingers finding their way to weave in your hair. Your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. And you know he’s already close by the way his twitching now when his tip nearly brushes against your throat.
“Sweetheart, stop, I’ll—“ but you don’t oblige him, fingers brushing against his balls, before you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, as you suck and lick at his length, until he’s groaning, “where should I—“ and you suck at his tip in reply, and his head falls back, lips parted in a groan, as he cums hard, swallowing every drop as he paints your throat white with his release. He’s panting and twitching as he comes down from his high — deliciously flushed and messy, as his chest falls up and down as he pants, trying and failing to catch the breath you had stolen from him — sucked from his dick undoubtedly.
Eyes lidded as he watches you pull yourself from his cock, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his cock, before it drips down your chin, “I may get addicted, Sugu,” and you’re climbing back onto his lap, your lips grazing his still racing pulse, grunting as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, “gonna have my professor’s cock every night at this rate — maybe I’ll suck you off under your desk next time,” your lips brush against his ear, as he gasps, cock twitching against your needy cunt, “how unethical your cock is compared to the rest of you,” and you’re undoing the buttons on his shirt, until it falls open for you, “wonder what other sounds I can draw from you tonight? Shall we learn together—“
And he flipped you onto your back on the bed, lips curled in a smile — but a smile laced with lust, eyes raking over your body as he began to strip your shirt off your body, “did you forget, Princess? I’m the professor,” and he leans down to kiss your erect tits through your bra, delighting at your gasp, before sucking lightly at your erect nipple through the fabric, “and I still have so much left to teach you,”
He is kissing agonizingly slow up your body, first the valley of your breasts, along your collarbone, and the curve of your neck — until his lips finally find yours again. His tongue traces the seam of your lips before being granted access, tasting your own with a moan you swallow all too eagerly. It’s truly not fair for a kiss to be this good — but again, everything about Suguru Geto was.
“What are you going to be teaching me? Kant? Rawls? Aquinas?” You ask between kisses as his fingers sliding behind you to undo your bra, slipping it from your body, his lips parting from yours, a string of spit connecting your lips to his.
He drags a thumb down your bitten red lips, “No, today's lesson is a bit unorthodox,” and now he’s kissing back down your body this time, tongue dragging over your stomach and belly button, before kissing right above the elastic of your panties. “I’m going to show what I owe you — what I’ve always wanted to owe you—“ a smile playing on his lips, as his legs force your thighs apart, eyes falling onto the wet patch on your underwear with a lust ridden gaze, “and how much I can make you moan my name from it,”
His fingers begin to ghost up your thighs, before he leans down to ghost all too chaste kisses up your inner thighs, pretty hands holding your flesh still even as it shakes under his attention.
“Seems like you enjoyed tasting me almost as much as I did,” he teases, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, as his finger teased the drenched fabric, thumb rubbing against your clit, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “no smart remarks now? You always have so much to say,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs, seeing your pretty folds on display for him, glistening with your arousal — your need for him, “don’t tell me all it takes is my face between your thighs to get you to fall quiet,” and his lips curl as your lips pout, only making him chuckle, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure the only thing you know how to say is my name after this,”
He presses a sweet kiss to your dripping folds, nose brushing against your sweet clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your outer lips teasingly, “thought about this so long, dreamed about this sweet cunt, Princess — tastes and smells better than I ever imagined,” your fingers grasp at the strands of his hair, tugging the hair tie from his messy bun, toes curling into the sheets, “wanna spend all night buried in this pussy,”
And his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, ghosting over your entrance, before he’s circling your clit again. Moans leave your lips, again and again, lips closing over your clit to suck. Your muscles tense, back arching and your nails digging into his scalp, “barely even started, baby, don’t go cumming just yet,”
“Sugu, please, more,” you whine, looking down at him, eyelashes nearly fluttering.
His lips curl, “How can I say no to my favorite student?” And his fingers spread your sweet folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as he gathers your slick on his thick digit, working his way into your tight walls.
You’re gasping at the way his finger sinks knuckle deep into your tight cunt, your insides wet and warm, “your pussy is as talkative as you are,” the lewd squelch of your walls fills the silence, “maybe even more,” as he begins to fuck you in earnest, “think you need more, don’t you, baby?” And he’s adding another finger, the delicious stretch making your mouth fall open at the intrusion of his fingers.
You’re bucking against his touch, thighs shaking as you do, his fingers curling against that spot that has you moaning his name, his dick half hard already just from feeling your walls around his fingers.
You’re so fucking close — the drag of his fingers against your walls, your hips meeting his thrusts, “good girl, you take me so well, can’t wait to sink into you, Princess,” and his lips find your clit again, teeth grazing it teasingly, “s’good for me, baby, you close?” And you’re nodding, walls fluttering around his fingers, and he grunts, “cum for me,”
And you do, your head falling back onto the pillow, as you cum hard, his name on your lips, as your walls squeeze around his fingers. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, tongue lapping up your release, his lips leaving your clit with a pop.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers around your sweet cunt. Your eyes flutter open, watching him lick his lips clean, before he meets your gaze, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, “sweetest thing I ever tasted, baby,”
He’s kissing your thighs, as you come down from your high, teeth grazing the plush flesh of your inner thigh, sucking and pinching, before soothing it with his tongue, “s’good for me,” and he’s slinking back up your body, his hard cock catching on your clit, making both of you groan.
“Please, Suguru, I need you,” your fingers find the back of his neck, threading through his hair, and he smirks.
“Look at my T.A., so needy for her professor,” and your fingers tug at his hair to pull the smirk off his lips, “I’d say you hold all the power in this relationship, Princess,”
“Do I, now?” Your fingers curl around his length, teasing the leaking head with your thumb making him hiss.
And his gaze meets you so earnestly, it nearly makes you melt, a gasp leaving his lips as he cups your cheek, “You could ruin my life, and I would thank you for it, if it was you,”
“Suguru—“
“If you were going to use me, I’d tell you to use me. If you needed me, I’d want you to call me,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “and If you didn’t love me, I’d love you anyway,” and he doesn’t let you respond, lips brushing against yours, as he gently moves your hand away, and lines himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, “are you ready?”
And you’re nodding, a huffed chuckle escaping your lips, “Been ready for far too long — there’s no other electronics around here right?”
He laughs, “No, just you and me,” molten lava stared back at you, a heat seeping into your skin as he guided himself into your fluttering cunt, inch by inch, as his name leaves your lips in a desperate moan that nearly has him cumming right then and there, not to mention how eagerly your pussy swallows his cock whole, “fuck, such a good fucking girl f’me, baby,”
He split you open as he sunk into you, pretty walls stretching around him — delicious pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, soft praises whispered in your ears as he did, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “that’s it, baby, look at you, taking me s’well,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, as you bite your lip, “are you okay?” and he finally bottoms out, stilling as your walls clamp around him, a groan leaving his lips, “so tight, so much better than I could have imagined,”
“Sugu, please, move,” and you didn’t need to say anything more — he starts slow, languid thrusts that drive him deeper into your cunt, his fingers lift your legs up, hooking them around his waist, and you wrap them even tighter, the tip of his cock hitting even fucking deeper, “fuck, Sugu, so deep, so good—”
“You were made for me, just like this cock was made for you,” he grunts, the lewd squelch of your insides, the slapping of your skin against his, “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl, never wanna leave this cunt,” his vulgar words only made your walls flutter around him, “trying to keep my dick, Princess? Don’t worry, it’s only for you anyway,” he teases, “my pretty girl’s cunt been denied twice — gotta make sure you learn your lesson this time, right?”
And god you were — you were learning his shape, his length, the slight curve he had, every vein that lined his cock, every inch — and you’d be sure to memorize it. Because he may be reaching you this time — a moan leaving your lips as his cock kissed a particularly deep part of your cunt — but the next lesson, you would be sure to pass with flying colors.
“S’close, Sugu, fuck, ngh—“ and he’s nodding, his fingers reach and rub your clit in circles, cock hitting that part of your cunt that has you seeing stars as pleasure rips up your body, as you cum. Your toes curl, fingers grasping at him to pull him impossibly close, His eyes flicker open, watching your cunt squeeze around his cock, a white ring of cum around his base, he fucked you through your orgasm.
His hips begin to stutter, a groan pulled from his lips, “S’good baby, I’m close—where—“
“Inside,” and his dick twitch, “cum for me, Suguru,” and he does, notching himself deep inside you, as he spills his seed inside, thick spurts painting you walls, as he moans your name. His thrusts slow, his lips brushing against yours. And you smile up at him, still dazed, his softening cock still inside you, “well that was very unethical,” a giggle escaped your lips, and his lips curled, as he leaned up to kiss you again.
“And how much more unethical would it be to do it again?” and you hum, as you flip him over onto his back.
“It’s a sunk cost fallacy at this point, think we can get away with it now,” and your lips find his in a hot kiss, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulls away.
“A philosopher and an economist?” he chuckles, his lips grazing your jaw now, murmuring, “I learn more about you every day,”
“I could cite Kant or Butler if you’d prefer—” and he’s grinding his hips under you, a gasp parting your lips, as his cock slides against your soaked cunt, “Sugu—”
His lips curl in that damn smile, and all words fall away, as he kisses you, “I think I would rather listen to my name leave you lips instead, princess.”
~~~
RING. RING. RING.
Fuck. You give a soft groan — a dream again?
A small sigh parts your lips, as reality washes over you. Eyes fluttering open and shut, as sleep pulls at your eyelids still. Your hands reach over to both sides, but find no one as expected, you sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. It was all soft sheets and shining sunlight — but no Suguru. You kicked your feet up and down, pouting. You thought you were over having those dreams.
But then….why did it smell like him?
“What are you doing?” And you snap up, turning quickly, the comforter sliding down slightly and find Suguru standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against his door frame. He looks sinfully good — long hair still thoroughly rumpled from the night before, pretty lips a little kiss bitten red, only a black t-shirt and boxers thrown on, and his obsidian gaze fixed on you.
“What—what are you doing?” And he raises an eyebrow.
“Isn’t that obvious? Watching you,” he chuckles, as your cheeks burn, “can you blame me? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases, as you glance down and see that half the blanket had slid down, exposing your bare chest.
You pull the blanket back on, wrapping it around yourself, “So one night in bed and the ethics fall out the window, huh?”
“Well, you did a good job defenestrating them, didn’t you?” He chuckles, sipping his coffee, “have to take responsibility for your actions — it is your duty,”
“Oh, it’s my duty now?” And he’s climbing back into bed beside you, “and what does this duty entail?” And he hums, as your fingers find the fabric of the front of his shirt and tug him close, before sliding up to wrap around his neck.
“Well, Kant said, it’s not the consequences that matter, but the motives behind the actions,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “so what are your motives?”
“My motives are…” you consider your words, as you suppress the moan from his teeth grazing his pulse, and you pout, “you’re distracting me,” and he laughs, the lovely vibration against your skin making you shiver, before he draws back, thumb drawing circles on your palm now, “I want to wake up with you, I want to fall asleep beside you, I want to hear about your days and your night — even ones I spend with you, and I’d say my main motivation is to be with you,” your fingers clasps his thumb, before slowly intertwining your fingers with his, “is that a sufficient answer, Professor Geto?” And he’s silent a moment, a sweep of anxiety rushes across your body, fingers grasping at the sheet hidden under the comforter, as you add, “but Kant would also argue that the behavior is not one done of good will since, even if the consequence is good, it’s not done out of respect for the moral law—“
And his lips find yours, cutting off your ramble mid sentence, letting each sentence, word, and thought burn under his touch, each brush of his lips and his hands — as one palm cupped your cheek, while the other found purchase on your thigh — erased more of your worries, until he finally parts—
“It’s always good, if it’s you that I have as my consequence,” and he erodes the last of your concerns with his words, as his lips find yours again, “I was going to make you breakfast,” he mutters against your lips, meeting and parting again and again, before he’s easing the blanket from your fingers, gaze darkening as he sees you fully. And he’s easing you onto your back, against the plush pillows and sheets, as he kisses a hot trail down your body, before he finds himself between your legs again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “but I think I may have my meal first.”
~~~
Suguru would have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t woken first. To wake again in your arms, sunlight filtering through in his bedroom, your arms curled on his front, and your legs entangled, the warmth of your breath heating his skin, and your face tucked into the crook of his neck.
He had to pinch himself to make sure, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to the same fan he had stared at on many sleepless nights with only thoughts of you plaguing his mind, before his gaze fell back to you — only to find you beside him now.
There was no more perfect dream than this, but it wasn’t one, as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek gently, and you stirred only for a moment, a whisper on your tongue, “Sugu,” you murmured, lips parted as your nestled further into his chest, and his body burned with want.
Fuck. He tried to shift his hips away from you — this wasn’t helping his early morning problem — now was it? He really didn’t want a repeat of the hotel bathroom again, but this time, he could take his time — because you both had it. The end of the semester had mostly come and gone — he could wait on grading the papers — if only it meant a few minutes more in bed with you.
You woke up soon enough after he had left bed, hoping to start on the beginnings of breakfast, but he found himself feasting on another meal instead.
“Sugu, please, s’close,” what was it about you that tasted so heavenly? He had spent his life pouring over ethical dilemmas and trying to tackle problems of moral truths, but as he brought you over the edge to your second orgasm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have spent his time buried in your cunt instead of books.
He lapped up your release eagerly, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before running a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, drawing another gasp from you — thighs shaking from pleasure.
“Sugu, please, enough,” and he eases off, chin and lips still sticky with your cum, as his tongue darted out to clean some of it off, wiping the rest off with his arm, “I want you, please,”
And fuck, he could cum just hearing those words from your kiss ruined lips, eyes blown out in lust, and your bare chest rising and falling. He drags his cock over your folds again, “need me again, Princess? Last night not enough for you?” he grunts when he watches your walls clench around nothing, as if to tempt his dick to sink into you.
He bit his lip, it was working.
Eventually, the two of you lie entangled again, a little stickier than before, your faces half an inch apart, and your fingers tracing his jaw.
“I wish we could stay here in this bed forever,” you murmur, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingertips, soft kisses pressed to each one, his nose then rubbing against your palm, “no responsibilities, no reality, just us,”
“Sounds like heaven,” he murmurs, words whispered against your skin, “of course I think any place with you is,” except when he can’t touch you, when he can’t kiss you, when he can’t smile at you without his heart aching — but he doesn’t say that, “we should talk shouldn’t we?”
“We should,” your eyes meet his, an ache that only made the ache in him grow, “I don’t want to stop you from going to Kyoto,”
“I would if it was for us, for you,” and your lips curl sadly, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, as if to stop yourself from saying yes, that you’d let him — let him say no, let him keep his old job, let him stay in Tokyo.
“But that’s exactly why I can’t do that, for you — you said you wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I can’t do that to you too,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his, “I can’t let you put your career on hold for us, I know you’ve wanted this. You must’ve since you applied,”
“I only applied because I thought we would never—“ he cuts off, lump sitting on his throat, “I don’t want this to end before it’s barely started,”
“Me either,” you say softly, and his lips brush yours — he didn’t want it to end, not now. Not ever.
And then he realizes — it doesn’t have to.
“Then we start there,” he says, as he parts from your lips, words said in the promise of the same breaths you both had just exhaled, “I’m not moving until next semester. We have two months of summer before I’ll be in Kyoto full time, and before you have classes again,” his fingers find yours, intertwining with his, hand engulfing yours, “We’ll live as philosophical presentists,” and you scoff, a smile pulling on your lips.
“You don’t miss an opportunity to give a lesson, do you?” He gives a wry smile.
“Take the professor out of the classroom—“ and you snort, “what I mean is let’s live in this moment — we could discuss the future and past all day long — but neither exist right now,” and he rests your palm against his cheek, fingers squeezing your own, “but we do, in this moment right now, so why don’t we savor it?”
Your lips can’t help but curl into a smile, “How about instead of a drink you make me breakfast?”
~~~~
Was it possible to get deja vu from an experience you hadn’t had yet?
You step into Suguru’s shower, a distinct sense of deja vu settling over you as you wash yourself, the marks of the night before (and this morning) still littering your body, as if to remind you that it wasn’t a dream.
It better not be, as you pinched yourself again, pressing your hands to your still hot cheeks, sticking your head under the water. God, this shower smelt like him, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingering in the bath, even after he had left. He had showered here this morning, after you had laid in for a bit longer, emerged from the master bath with only a towel around his waist, stray water droplets running down his chest, drenched black strands clinging to his skin. He had stood here, and washed himself — lathering his body, hands drawn up and down his muscles, from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach — lower and lower—
You bit your lip, as you pressed your thighs together.
No, no, if you did that and Suguru caught you, he would never let you live it down. You finish your shower, the squeak of the faucet as you shut the water off, before toweling off. You glanced at your clothes hanging on the towel rack outside the shower, rumpled from the night before, reluctant to pull it back on. Instead, you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body,
You had a better idea.
~~~
“You have good timing,” Suguru says, smile on his lips, as he folds the omelet, yours he had decided, as with pancakes, his first omelet has not come out as well as this one had, “not late for once,” as he carefully plates the other omelet with some rice as well as miso soup he had made the night before, “I—“
And he turns, words fleeing his mind, assuredly taking his several years of education and teaching with it, as all the blood from his brain floods downward.
You were wearing his button up from last night, the wrinkled fabric draped over your body, falling past your thighs, the buttons mostly done, with a few top buttons unbuttoned far too teasingly — just one more and he could kiss your chest, two and he could—
Fuck.
“What?” You blink, chewing on your lip, “sorry I didn’t want to get back on my clothes from last night, so I stole your shirt, and uh,” your gaze shying away, “your boxers,”
Self control. He had perfect self control — hell, this last year had been an exercise in self control — control from brushing his fingers over your cheek, control from saying anything that pushed the line any further than the two of you had blurred it, control himself from taking you in his office (though he had not controlled himself as more as he was interrupted — twice).
But it was as if the dam had broken, the small cracks formed in the concrete now had compromised the integrity of the barrier and had burst the night before, and now — he rounded the counter, his arms reaching for you — there was no putting the water back in the dam after a flood.
Then again, he was more than happy to get swept away — if it was you.
“Sugu—ummph,” his name was muffled by the namesake’s own lips, swallowing the rest of his syllables along with your breath. His hands rake down your sides, his large hands slipping under your shirt, finding bare skin underneath.
“Nothing but my boxers and shirt?” He kisses your jumping pulse, lips lingering on your neck, as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s like you knew what I wanted for breakfast, Princess,” fingers toying with the hem of the boxers you stole, “stealing isn’t very ethical,”
“Neither is a professor sleeping with a student,” you said between gasps.
He chuckles, “Well, a fair point, but let me remind you,” his fingers tease the elastic of his boxers you wore, the pads of fingers burning against your skin, as his erection pressed between your ass, drawing a gasp from your lips, “you wanted it,”
“What’s gotten into you?” you murmur, as his hand dips into your boxers, your head pressed against his body, lips parted, as a ribbon of heat spreads like a fire in dry heat.
And he knows exactly what’s gotten into him, his clothes on you, the scent of his soap and shampoo on you, and the way your body just melts under his touch—as your eyes drift to meet his own, looking up with lust scrawled across your features.
“You just look like a dream,” and his body met yours with a practiced ease, as if he had loved you all his life, and not for the first time last night, “one that I’ve had for far too long,” he buried. His face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing careful kisses as if you’d disappear under his touch, “is this real?”
And he doesn’t know why his breath catches at the question, a question he knows the answer to, because he knows you’re real, your warm skin under his touch, the pulse he felt racing under his lips — but he still worried he’d wake up in any second and you wouldn’t be here.
You softly chuckle, pinching his arm, “you feel that?” And he nods, and you turn to face him, leaning up to kiss his lip chastely, “did you feel that?” And he’s nodding, eyes fluttering, before you kiss his neck, teeth grazing his soft skin there, a gasp parting his lips, as you lean back, a smirk pulling on your lips, “and you definitely felt that,” you press your body into his, “this is real, I’m not going anywhere,” and he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “should we have breakfast now?”
His lips curl, his fingers tilting your chin up, as he leans down to kiss you again, “in a minute.”
Because now you both had plenty of those.
~~~
“Where are we going?”
Suguru laughs, you were sure his laugh was in the top five noises that he made — right between him whispering your name in the mornings and the way he groaned when you teased him particularly badly.
His eyes still fixed on the road, flickered to you for a moment while he drove, “The more you ask, the less likely I am to tell you,” and you pout, hiding the smile that creeped on your lips as you crossed your arms.
After the day you two spent, the next day, Suguru had already made plans to take you on a date — only giving you a day or so to prepare. No instructions except to wear layers to keep a little warm.
“You weren’t likely to tell me anyway,” he chuckles, as you glance at him again — it still almost feels forbidden as you did — he had opted for contacts rather than glasses, his hair tied in a bun as usual, lips curled in your favorite smile — you didn’t have to steal glances anymore, these glances were yours to have.
It felt so different from that drive you had taken to the conference — it felt as if you were being suffocated by your feelings, sucking the air you breathed from your lungs as if to stop you from speaking because any word you spoke would only cross that line you couldn’t even toe without drowning. But now, that line wasn’t even blurred, it was gone, washed away by the decision the two of you made — and it couldn’t have been better.
Because now you could do this.
Your fingers rest on the gap of the console, before sliding over, and finding his thigh. His eyes slide over to you, “Need something sweetheart?”
You hum, drawing circles on his thigh, “Wondering if I could convince you to tell me where we’re going with some extra credit?”
“I don’t remember assigning any extra credit, plus you’re not being graded, but even if you were,” you smile, “you’d have at least a B+,”
You gasp, “Suguru!” He laughs, even harder when he spots the pout on your lips, “I think I deserve higher than that,”
He pulls up to a stoplight, fingers finding yours “well maybe you can change my mind tonight,”
“Will we ever get there? Or is it a ‘Waiting for Godot’ situation?” He snorts, as he intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting the back of your hand to his lips and holding it there.
“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting,” and your gaze softens, as he continues to hold your hand as he drives.
You smile, squeezing his hand, “Good, because I think we both have waited long enough.”
~~~
“Is the blindfold necessary?”
“Trust is essential to a relationship,” Suguru replied, his arm around your waist as the other hand held your own, a blindfold tied around your eyes, as he guided you somewhere — the blindfold had come a few minutes before you reached your destination, “don’t you trust me, princess?”
“Oh I don’t know, it depends on whether you’re planning on murdering me and disposing of my body in the ocean,” and he pauses — you can almost see the furrow of his brow, “you may have blindfolded me but I can still smell,” the scent of sea salt carried by the cool breeze tickled at your nose, even as you still walked on pavement approaching the beach, you could faintly hear the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore.
“I suppose I should have gotten nose and ear plugs for my far too observant girlfriend,” and the title makes your heart squeeze, as his fingers squeeze your hand, before parting, only to brush against your hair as he undoes the blindfold, “well since it’s spoiled already,”
The blindfold falls away, sunlight peeking through a moment, as the world comes into view — a beautiful sandy beach with salty waves parting through the shore, so bright as the sun reflects off the sand, making your eyes squint, only for Suguru to place sunglasses carefully on your face, “You came prepared,” your lips curl, as he tucks the blindfold away, and lifts up a picnic basket, “in more than one way,”
“Well, I thought a picnic on the beach was a nice way to begin today,” and he pulls out a sunhat from his bag as well, placing on top of your head, “don’t worry, I have sunblock as well, in case we need it,”
“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” and you look up at him, the light glinting off his flint eyes like sparks, “and now what’s my job here?”
“Enjoy today, take in the view,” and your fingers brush his cheek, somehow warmer than before.
“Funny, I thought I already was.”
~~~~
“Are you cold?” Suguru murmurs, when he feels you lean on him, a slight shiver against his chest that runs up your spine, and before you can answer, he’s wrapping a blanket around the two of you.
“Mr. Philosopher always has all the answers don’t you?” Another breeze has you moving even closer, as his palm moves to lean towards you, arm brushing against your back.
“Not all the answers,” and he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, as his lips brush against it, “I still don’t know how you became so irresistible,”
“All the ethics, of course,” and he snorts, as he hums, his hand sliding against your cheek, as his lips press against the soft skin beside your ear, “Sugu—”
“Hm?” he leans back to listen so intently, noses brushing, and all the words you have slips off your tongue, every thought flies right out of your head, and all that’s left is the feeling of warmth that comes with being this close.
God, he was unfairly gorgeous — even now, his hair unkempt from the wind as dark locks trickled out of his bun, his skin painted with a pretty flush, and his warm body pressed against you made any thought of being cold evaporate.
“Sweetheart? You okay?” he murmurs, fingers drifting over your cheek, a tilt of his head, and pulls you back from your reverie like the waves pulling more sand back into the ocean.
“I’m okay,” you shake your head, as your fingers rest over his, leaning into his touch, “I just was thinking how perfect this moment was,”
“And what’s so perfect about it?”
“You and me, just,” you bite your lip, “I didn’t think it’d happen,”
“Me either,” he admits, “I don’t ever want to hold you back — I couldn’t stand to be the reason for your unhappiness,”
“I could never see you as that,” and his lips curl, “promise you’ll never leave me?”
“Princess—“
“Just promise,” you murmur, “even if it isn’t real—“
“Who says it isn’t?” His lips brush yours, a heat that swallows your cold, creeping anxieties and burns them to nothing, “I promise, I’ll never leave you,”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,”
“Well, call me a Kantian,” he kisses you again, whispering these words against your lips, “because I intend to keep this promise.”
~~~
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at Suguru looking perfectly lost as he stood, watching you, hands crossed if only to stop him from taking over.
“For the millionth time, no,” you continue stirring the miso soup you were making, as you tenderized the chicken for the chicken katsu, “just keep me company,” you glance at him, biting your lip as your eyes raked over his outfit — a white shirt tucked under a navy pullover tucked into dark jogger pants, “and you’re already providing eye candy,” you teased.
“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, and you turned back to the task at hand, as you set the meat tenderizer down, to prepare the chicken to be breaded, and his arms curled around your waist, “and what if I want you to use a little more than your eyes?”
“Suguru, my dinner—“ but he continues, fingers brushing your hair aside, his warm breath turning your blood to molten molasses, “you’re making a habit of interrupting our meals like this.”
“The only thing I want to eat is in my arms,” he kisses your neck, feeling you shiver, “there’s another philosophy — ‘the customer’s always right?’”
You laugh, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “this isn’t a restaurant, unless I’m charging you at the end of this,”
“Maybe you should, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” and you hum as he trailed kisses down your neck to your shoulder — he never had a sweet tooth, but you were the only dessert he ever had craved.
“Knowing you, it would also come with a review written in red pen,” and it’s his turn to laugh now, as you lowered the stove temperature on the soup, before turning to face him.
He pulls you flush against him, “I’d hope you’d do better than a B+ this time,” and you glare at him, before your lips curl into a smirk, as you dare closer, your chest now pressed against his.
“This time I will because my annoying prick of a professor is very much able to be persuaded by other methods not available to me at the time,” your lips ghost over his ear, just as your voice used to haunt him in his dreams, “but now, I think he’ll be quite amenable to my work,”
“Don’t you want to earn your accolades?” and your smile is more wicked than the night itself, as you lean up to meet his own.
“Oh I will be earning them,” your lips are so close he could feel the words you spoke as you did — every part of your lips, every flick of your tongue — and then he’s met with your fingers dragging flour over his cheek, “after dinner.”
Suguru gaped at the flour smeared across his cheek, as you turned back around, the click of the burner as you turned it high again, “Was that necessary? You snorted, as you began to season the chicken, as he wiped the offending flour from his cheek.
“Well, was it necessary to give me a 99 on the final paper?”
~~~~
“Well, this is just unfair,” you sat in the middle of a cat cafe — arms crossed and biting back a small smile that threatened to bloom across your lips — the cutest one you had found in the heart of Tokyo that you had reluctantly dragged Suguru.
He wasn’t a fan of cats or dogs, for that matter.
But now, after paying the admission fee, and ordering your drinks, the two of you sat in an enclosure of cats you were far too eager to meet — and perhaps, they could sense it.
“Did you break Kantian principles and lie about hating cats or is the universe playing a prank?” you watch as yet another cat approaches your boyfriend, an entire litter already taking up residence on any available real estate on his body, while you had only a single cat in your lap the entire time, as if it was taking pity on you.
This was no better than when you were a T.A., swarms of students surrounding Suguru, while you were left with barely a soul. Apparently it applied to students and animals, and you felt a small twinge of jealousy — but you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of the cats or him.
“I don’t hate them, I just don’t particularly want one of my own,” he shrugs, as he scratches the newcomer behind the ear, “but maybe you’ve changed my mind,”
“I tend to have that influence,” and his lips curl.
“I have seem to have developed a soft spot for strays,” and you gape at him, as he snorts at your aghast expression, a cat swatting at his bobbing bangs as he shook with laughter, “but you’re my favorite one,”
“I better be,” you grumble, crossing your arms and pouting, before you watched him pet yet another cat that had made itself at home on your boyfriend’s lap. And you pull out your phone to sneak a few pictures.
“I wanted to ask you something actually,” he says as you glanced up from your phone, he bit his lip, a small hint of nerves apparent in his stiff shoulders and shy gaze, “I’m going to Kyoto next week to look for an apartment for when the semester starts,” and your heart sinks a little at the thought — the summer was half over already, and it was far too quick for your liking. The more you wanted time to linger, the more it seemed to escape you, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to see apartments with me,”
You blink, you ask softly, “You want me to come?”
He gets up, easing the cats gently out of his lap, as he makes his way to your side. He sits beside you, the cat in your lap, stretching its way between the two of you, as you rub his head.
“I know we said we would see how this would go before the start of the semester, but I know what I want — I think I did from the very start of this,” he says, as his ebony gaze finds yours, “I want to be with you — and I’d like you to come with me to pick out an apartment, because I want it to be somewhere you want to be too—“
And you cut him off with a kiss, arms thrown around his neck — he freezes a moment, before melting into your kiss, his fingers cupping your cheeks, “We’ll have to make sure it’s pet friendly,”
He chuckles, his forehead pressed against yours, “So we’re getting a cat?”
Your fingers find his own as another cat brushes against both of your legs, “That or a poodle.”
~~~
“What did you think of that place?” You ask as you both walk out of another viewing for an apartment, as he looks at the list he made on his phone, “it had good light, it’s close to the university, it’s pretty spacious,” But he’s sighing, as you tilt your head, “Suguru?”
“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he’s shaking his head, “i think we should look for another place,” the same thing he had said for the last three places — he had found something wrong with each of them, but this one seemed different.
“Why?” and he doesn’t answer, and you cling to his arm, a hand on his cheek to guide him to look at you, “Sugu?”
He bites his lip a little, as he rubs the back of his neck, “it’s just far from the station so when you come to visit, it might be a little difficult for you,” and your gaze softens, mouth opening to reply, “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you would tell me not to worry,” and you close your mouth, and he chuckles, “I was right huh?”
“Oh, a man is a smart ethics professor and he thinks he knows everything,” you kiss his lips, “you really don’t have to worry. We’ll make it work,”
“I know, but the round trip on the bullet train is four hours, I don’t want to make you wait longer or waste even a minute of your time together,” he murmurs, as you twirl a dark strand of his hair between your fingers.
“No moment spent getting to you or being with you is a waste,” you smile, fingers smoothing your boyfriend’s furrowed brow, “plus the train gives me time to catch up on my reading — and you’ll be coming to see me too,”
“I know, I just,” he sighs, leaning into your hand resting against his cheek, “I don’t want to ever be a burden,”
“Not to me, it’s not a burden when it’s you,” your fingers find his and bring his knuckles to your lips, “you’re worth every minute,”
“And you’re worth so much more than that,” and you smile against his skin.
“Always have to one up me, don’t you?” And his arm wraps it’s way around your waist, tugging you close.
His lips brush yours again, “Always, when it comes to caring for you.”
~~~
“You found such a perfect hotel room,” you sighed, collapsing onto the pristine (not so pristine now) bed, your feet very sore from all the walking you had done over the last three days, “I’m glad you finally found a place you liked,” and he sits at the edge of the bed, beside you, as he chuckles at the sight of you laid starfished on the bed, “the apartment’s beautiful, close to the university and a station, and it allows pets,”
His fingers find your foot, massaging the sore sole, bringing a low groan from your lips, eyes fluttering shut, “Good thing, otherwise, they’d never let me bring you in,” and your eyes snap open to playfully kick him and he laughs, as he stares at you, fingers ghosting over your ankle.
“What are you staring at?” You tease, and he can’t help the words that escape his lips.
“I love you,” and your breath catches, as your mind struggles to process the words that left his lips, and a chuckle leaves his lips, as he leans over on his elbow to hover over you, “I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it,”
“You will?” your lips curl into a smile, “because I think I would like to hear it again,”
“I love you,” and his lips graze against yours, “I love you,” again, his lips linger a moment longer, “I love you,” again, “I love you—”
And you kiss him this time, your fingers cupping his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck, as your forehead press together, “I love you too,” and he grins down at you, his lips finding yours again and again, pressing you into the comforter, “I love you, Suguru,” you murmur, his fingers skimming your cheek.
“You know you don’t have to say it back—”
“I know,” you scoff, as you pinch his cheek lightly, “I said it because I meant it, I do love you, Suguru — I have for a long time,”
He smirks, “A long time?”
“Shut up,” you pout, and he’s laughing as he showers your face with soft kisses, “nooo, I changed my answer, I don’t know if I love y—” and he’s swallowing your words with another kiss — but this one is languid and deep, a heat that sinks in from his touch, as his body brushes against yours, until he finally parts to allow you both a breath, “not fair,”
“Sorry sweetheart, no changing your answer now,” he runs his fingers through your hair, and you’re pulling him into another soft kiss, before you bury your face in his chest, and he gives a soft sigh, as the two of you cuddle, a small chuckle on his lips.
“What is it?”
“Deja vu,” and you blink, he laughs again, “the last time we were in a hotel together, we weren’t together, but we had these feelings, and now—” his lips find the top of your head, fingers running through your dark locks, “things are so different — it almost feels like a lifetime ago,”
“It wasn’t that long ago, but I’m glad it feels that way,” your nose brushes against the hollow of his throat, “I want us to fill up our present with good memories, so that we don’t have any of those other ones linger,”
“I think we can manage that,” his lips glide against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “we should shower,”
“We?” you raise an eyebrow, a heat that sparks and settles over your skin that only stokes brighter and hotter, when his hand runs down your side and squeezes your hip, “Sugu—”
“Should we take a utilitarian approach? The benefits: it’s better for the environment to preserve water, we can stay close to each other as we clean our bodies, and reach the spots that are hard for us ourselves to reach. The costs would be,” his lips ghost your collarbone, “we would take longer thus using more water, we would get messier before we would get cleaner, and we might spend a lot more time in bed after,”
“How is that a cost?” you slip off the bed, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it at him, before pulling down your shorts, as you open the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Are you going to show me the benefits of being my boyfriend?”
~~~
“Suguru,” his name left your lips in broken syllables, as the head of his leaking cock teased your drenched entrance, your hands braced against the shower wall, the cold of the wet glass contrasting with the warmth of his body pressed against your back, “please,”
“Please what, princess?” his lips ghost over your shoulder, licking a water droplet from your neck, as he moves a few wet locks to kiss the skin behind your ear, “You’re going to have to be more specific — I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what you need — isn’t that the first thing I taught you?”
“No, the first thing you taught me was to never be late,” you gasp as he allows his tip to sink into your needy cunt only a little, before he allows it to slip out, “fuck, Sugu, please, I want your cock,”
“There we go,” his chuckle rumbles against your skin, as he guides his length to your dripping pussy before beginning to sink in, “I told you we would be in here for a while,” his fingers find yours, as he thrusts into you in one smooth movement, his balls pressed flush to your ass, “even your fingertips have become like prunes,” he turns your head to see your lips parted and panting for him, cunt twitching as he drags a thumb down your lips, “but my favorite student doesn’t mind does she?” and you whimper as he pulls his hips back, only to pump back in even harder, a moan leaving your lips, as he holds an arm around you to hold you, as he presses his other palm against the wall, as he starts to fuck you in earnest.
The slaps of your wet skin echoes in the glass walls of the shower, steam from the hot water filling both of your visions, as his tip brushes against your cervix, “S’good, Sugu, so deep,” your walls flutter around his dick.
“Good girl, so perfect f’me, take me so well,” his balls slap against the soft flesh of your ass as he fucks you harder, “been thinking about this for so long, thought about taking you in that hotel room all those nights ago, and it’s better than I could have imagined,” one of his hands finds your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple, as your walls only pull him in deeper and deeper each time he sinks back in, “perfect little princess cunt made f’me, only for me,”
He’s desperate, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, “Please, I’m close,” your soft cries and moans will be the death of him. He’s turning your head and leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. His hands squeeze your hips as he rocks against you again and again, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears, until he finally hits that spot that has you seeing stars, pulling you over the edge. You cum, the coil in your stomach snapping as you do, your walls clamping down on his dick, as he notches himself deep and cums — spurting his hot release deep inside, as the two of you moan, lips parting. The quiet water drumming against his back fills the silence along with your soft gasps and his pants. The two of you slump forward in the shower, his arm braced around your middle, as his softened cock slips from inside.
He presses soft kisses to your neck and cheek, whispering quiet praises, “Let’s finish washing up, baby, and I’ll help you into bed,” and you nod, boneless, as you lean against his chest, fingers brushing down his cheek, “are you okay?”
You nod, as you lean up to kiss his lips, “More than, when I’m with you,” and you add with a dreamy smile, “especially when I find out you’ve fantasized about me,” his already flushed cheeks even redder than before, “you’ll have to tell me more about these thoughts,”
“And if I refuse?” he murmurs, the blush kissing his ears now, the pink of his soft skin contrasting against the black of his gauges.
You hum, “I have my ways of making you talk,” and he snorts, as your expression softens, “I love you,”
He turns you gently, finding your lips in another kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck — and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be than with you, “I love you too.”
~~~
“It’ll fly by,” you murmur, as you rake your fingers through his hair — you had convinced him to get a trim a week ago, the dead ends long gone, and all that was left were his gorgeous locks. He still opted for the long hair look — sometimes it was tucked away in a bun, other times it was half up, and even at times, he kept it down, “it’s two weeks, and then I’ll come by to visit you,”
“It’s two weeks too long,” Suguru sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry I had to do—”
You place a finger over his lips, “Don’t apologize for furthering your career with something you’ve always wanted to do,” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I only have one year left of the program, and then after that, we’ll see where we’re at—”
He glances away, “I don’t know where either of us will be — but I know I want us to be together,” he bites his lip, and it only makes you want to kiss him all the more, “if that’s what you want too,”
You pull back only to find his lips again, “You never mince your words do you, Professor?” You can’t help but smile at this man — the man you loved more than you could express in any combination of words.
“Well, I find my most bright students need a more direct approach,” and you laugh, as he’s pressing needy kisses along your jaw, nosing the sensitive skin, “I think you’ll find it’s a tried and true method,”
“Oh yeah, I’ve tried it — it’s very true,” as his lips kiss their way back to yours, “do you mean that? And what did you mean? Do you want us to live together or live in the same city—”
“I would like us to live together, if we are at that point then,” his gaze meets yours, a hint of concern dancing across his ever furrowed brow, “I don’t want to pressure you — so why don’t we discuss that when we get there?”
“Sounds reasonable,” your fingers smoothing his brow, “but for the record,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “I want to live with you too,” and you bite back a grin at the joy that evaporates the hints of worry on his features, “along with our non-negotiable dozen cats and adorable poodle,”
He laughs, an easy smile that pulled on his lips, as it always did with you, “I told you, I don’t take in strays aside from you,” you grab your pillow and hit him with it, as he laughs, “ow, ow, I’m joking! I’m sorry—” and you’re giggling as he rips the pillow from your grasp, only to roll you over onto your back, “it sounds nice — a home with you — waking up next to you, planning our days, spending our evenings,” he murmurs, “feels like a dream,”
You pull him into a kiss — you’ve had many dreams about this man before you — far too many sleepless nights hoping for this reality, only to have it ripped away. But you wouldn’t wake up from this dream, the back of your knuckles grazing his cheek, not ever.
“It won’t be — not for long.”
~~~~
“Still not awake? You’ll be late if you wake up any later,” a murmured whisper in your ear stirs you awake, words prying you from your unconscious, as you groan softly, limbs and eyes still so heavy with sleep. But you know you have to get up, part ways with your far too warm bed and the tempting grasp of your blanket.
“Don’t wanna wake up yet,” and a laugh rings in your ear, lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, “noooo, please, five more minutes,”
He relents as you stretch your limbs and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you — your thoughts similarly circling the drain — you had a lecture, a presentation, a student council meeting to tend to — not to mention a meeting with your advisor and the department head about your thesis.
You turn and cuddle into his chest, pressing soft kisses along the space where his collarbone and chest meet, you smirk against his skin as he shivers, as he murmurs your name.
“What? I’m trying to wake up,” as you lean up and meet him in a lazy kiss, fingers finding the back of his neck, “what better way than this?”
Today was going to be long, but you supposed it was worth it only to end up here at the end of the day, as you turn and run your fingers through his black locks, “What do you have to do today? First day of a new semester,”
“Two lectures and our meeting later today, and maybe lunch with you?” And your lips curl, as you pull your phone off its charger to check your emails.
“Really? Lunch? You don’t think that wouldn’t rally scandal across campus two members of the student council conferring outside their meetings on the first day of spring semester?” And he laughs, turning to face you, his short black hair fell in messy tangled in front of his forehead, “might be tempting political intrigue, Yuta,”
And your boyfriend only smiles, jet black short locks falling in front of his forehead as his fingers brush your cheek before he leans over to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I think we’ll be alright,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “we’ve been pretty lucky, don’t you think?”
It was so simple, it was so easy, and it was so right.
And your phone flashed with a reminder that caught your eye: Meeting with Suguru Geto — the first time you’d see him in several months, the first time since you had broken up, and the first time since he had broken your heart.
And Yuta called your name, his eyes curious, “You okay?” And you only smile, locking your phone and the glaring reminder away, to lean over and kiss your boyfriend.
“More than okay,” as you slowly sit up, “come on, we can’t be late, can we?”
✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming - so when i planned part three with hannah, it was supposed to have three arcs -- this is only one of them lmao - i suppose i was a bit too ambitious with what i thought i could contain in one part. anyway sorry about this ending lmao :) love you - don't worry they will all have a happy ending
✧ 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, @enchantedpendant, @serendididy, @soulstealercat, @neuviloved, @simply-a-s1mp, @satorusmochis, @maddietries,
I wasn’t expecting this, and glad that it wasn’t in the front of my mind. I lose track of time a lot lol with life. But I came back to this, I loved this update, JK being so soft for her is something that highlights throughout the chapter. I’m glad they are making changes in the workplace and the cases. I’m not surprised to see Jk’s past cases a little bit, but oc should be having a change in perspective. With the scars and his caring nature, it’s only a matter of time for them to realize the domestic situation and they might avoid each other for a bit maybe. Or maybe an event forces them to work together again (not in a couple way)(actually it could be) (I’m not sure what I prefer). Anyways I’m glad to see the progress of the both of them this far. I’ll be waiting patiently (and most likely forget how time passes ) and be surprised to see the next update.
dextrocardia | 12
Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.
"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."
"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.
Spouses.
pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader
genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)
word count: 6.6k
warnings: talk about dv and sa but pretty briefly. also includes some (implied) trauma/ptsd reactions.
rating: NC-17 – Adults Only
masterlist
part 12/?
<previous | next>
© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.
An hour and a half later, you’re on your way to the bathroom when you run into Jeongguk nearly head first. He mentioned at breakfast that he was going to use the gym before taking on the window once more, and judging by the sweat that’s soaked through the dark green t-shirt and also glistens on his face, that’s where he’s just come from.
“Oh,” you step back, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Almost didn’t recognize you. You know… with your shirt on.”
It may be stupid, but better than to admit how seeing him sweaty, his breathing still heavy and his veins more prominent than usual, makes your own body heat up.
He dabs his forehead with his arm, “Yeah… You know, I’m sorry for being such an ass to you. I thought it was cathartic, getting my revenge by flustering you. I didn’t understand that I was probably scaring you.”
Your eyes widen. He was. You remember your heart rate increasing uncomfortably whenever he’d walk toward you, his shirt off and saying something suggestive. If he wasn’t actually intentionally scaring you by implying he could do something to you whether you wanted it or not then he was an ass but not unforgivably so. It was immature, yeah, but if he thought you shot his friend for getting rejected and then protected by the chief, it almost makes it understandable. Almost.
“It’s okay. I appreciate it. It doesn’t bother me here, though, and it’s your home.”
He tilts his head slightly, looking down at you. “It’s what I want to do, and besides, it’s not nearly as hot as it was this summer.”
For a brief moment, you stand there, looking up at him and wondering if he’s actually a real person, a real man. Somehow he wants to do the right thing, be as kind and considerate he can, even if he doesn’t have to. It’s so far from the Jeongguk you thought you knew, but also… not. In a way, it makes sense that he hated you so much because he’s loyal, wants everything to be fair and right, which makes you wonder…
“Can I ask you something?”
“Mhm?”
“Why did you hate me so much?” you question, “I know you thought I shot Hoseong, either on purpose or by being reckless with the gun, but… what were your thoughts?”
His gaze turns curious, and you assume he doesn’t understand exactly what you’re getting at–after all, he thinks he’s explained it before.
“I hated you because I thought you shot him for rejecting you, and then I hated you because I thought you got away with it. I thought that the chief protected you by not dealing with what happened. Then I hated you more because you were always complaining about men when it seemed like you got off scot-free because you were a woman. I felt like you excused your shitty behavior as being a feminist or whatever and accused anyone calling you out of being sexist.”
You consider his words. “Thank you.”
You were right.
“You’re… welcome?” he tilts his head slightly. “I’m gonna try to finish the window quickly, but I’ll need to head to the station after that, and I wanted to ask you if you want to come? I don’t think it’ll be too crowded today, and I know who’s working; all good guys. ”
You bite your lip. Going to the station would mean getting stared at and whispered about because at the end of the day, what happened to you–and then subsequently to you and Jeongguk–was what set the ball in motion.
Sensing your hesitancy, Jeongguk continues, “We’re going over some paperwork of the changes we’re implementing, so Jihyo will be there, and we’ve asked all female employees to tell her if there’s anyone they’ve ever felt unsafe with, and we’re investigating those. The guys there right now are people I really trust from back home and the rest have no complaints, no reports made against them.”
You don’t really want to ever set foot at the station again, but logically, you realize that you’ll probably have to. After all, you can’t keep your pay and never work again, and you don’t have any other education. While you could try to find another job, it would have to be something like a customer service job, and your nineteen old self was more than done with that.
Jeongguk still looks at you with gentle and hopeful eyes. Sooner or later, you’ll have to. Maybe it’ll be easier to have him with you when you do? Additionally, the least you can do is point out which guys haven’t made comments about you or threatened you.
“Okay.”
The tiniest form of raindrops hit the windshield as Jeongguk drives you toward the station. You bounce your knee nervously, trying to focus on the fact that you’ll get to see Jihyo and Sana again.
It turns out that walking inside the station with Jeongguk is just more reason for people to stare. He’s wearing dark blue and somewhat baggy jeans and a big black hoodie, but even without his uniform, he gives off an aura of authority among the people present.
You trail behind him, just knowing that he’s glaring at those who let their eyes linger on you for too long, making them turn away their heads apologetically. You thought everyone knew, you really did, but judging by how many seem to want to come up to you and show their sympathy (or pretend to?), that’s evidently not the case. They all know now, however.
Jeongguk leads you through the corridors, and you stay behind him, feeling more unsure the farther in you go.
A man walks past in front of you as you reach the open part of the station, but you hear Jeongguk order a low ‘Don’t’ when his step falters. It’s a guy you’ve seen around but don’t really know, and even his name is escaping you at the moment.
“Sorry,” he says before smiling gently at you, “Good to see you again.”
You nod, wondering to yourself if it’ll ever get easier. You don’t recall hearing the man insult or threaten you, but how can you believe he truly didn’t know?
Jeongguk leads you into the room you once knew as the old chief’s office, but now Jihyo’s family name is stamped on the glass. It’s empty, and you relax your shoulders when he closes the door behind you.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Some still stare but less so than I assumed.”
“I might have told them not to make a scene or make you uncomfortable.”
His words have a small, appreciative smile pulling on your mouth. Two seconds later, there’s a knock on the door, and you see the blurry shape of a man through the frosted window.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk mumbles, walking back to the door to open it.
A smiling, dark haired man walks through, a little shorter than Jeongguk, and his eyes land on you. Immediately, he approaches, his hand outreached. You’re not sure if it’s the way he’s smiling–his eyes narrowing but almost endearingly so–or something else, but he’s got a whole different aura than the typical man who works around here. Even Jeongguk at first glance looks more mysterious and intimidating.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Jimin.”
His hand is warm when it shakes yours, and he nods when you say your own name. From behind him, you hear someone repeat it excitedly. Jimin steps aside, and you spot Sana approaching fast.
Your heart grows warm as you meet her in the middle and wrap your arms around her. She holds you close, doesn’t seem too keen on letting go, and you feel the exact same.
“I missed you,” she mumbles into the embrace, and you hug her tighter. The truth is that you met with Jihyo a few times after the incident at the house, but you only spoke with Sana on the phone before you decided to leave town, telling them to give you space and not to visit. Being around people had felt overwhelming, but in retrospect, you’d been very lonely.
Sana steps back, “Jihyo had some pretty urgent matters to attend to, but hopefully she makes it before you leave. She said we could get started.”
“Right, there are some people already in the conference rooms, but we can just stay here,” Jimin points to a few chairs stacked in the corner, and Sana goes to get them.
“Sure. Coffee, anyone?” Jeongguk asks, getting a chorus of affirmatives.
You watch him leave the room and the door glide shut behind him. Taking a seat, you clasp your hands on the table, looking at them inconspicuously.
“So, how do you know Jeongguk?” you ponder, even though your guess is that they used to work together before Jeongguk came to town.
Jimin pulls out the chair to your left and sits down. “We met at the academy, worked at the same station, first as highway patrol and then he switched to patrol and like… mostly DV calls before he transferred. After everything went down here, he and Jihyo asked me and a few others to help out.”
You blink in confusion, peering up at him. “Domestic violence?”
“Yeah. Of course, there’s not a specific DV unit, but if he was free and close, we usually sent him,” he explains casually.
“It’s often a complex situation as I’m sure you know; a manly man does best at talking to the offender–usually a man–but a woman or a less “harsh” man, like myself, usually does better talking to the victim and earning their trust. Jeongguk, for some reason, does well at both. So since we didn’t have a lot of female officers, he and a partner usually went. He would also talk to a lot of victims that came in to the station, taking their statements and supporting them to get the rape kits done if needed.”
You’re thrown back to the living room in your fake house, where you’re accusing Jeongguk of being one of the people leaving women to die at the hands of their husbands. You recall vividly how he stood there, just taking everything you threw at him. Why didn’t he tell you?
“Oh,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “It’s never worked like that here, as far as I know?”
It really hasn’t. You couldn’t imagine the chief calculating who’s got the most fitting, empathetic personality and sending them out for calls like that. Closest guys went and then whoever was free talked to victims at the station. How well the job was done is a whole other thing, and you don’t even want to think about it or how any critique you and your female colleagues have raised has been handled.
“Yeah. Of course, it’s not always doable, and priority for all urgent cases is to send help out as quickly as possible, but if we could, then that’s what we did.”
Jimin’s words leave you with a lot to think about, and you can’t really keep your full attention on the papers Sana and Jimin pull out and start to go through. Though you hear them continuing on the subject, discussing whether to assign some officers a certain priority when a domestic violence or sexual assault victim comes in or just hold more thorough classes in how to talk to those people for everyone employed at the station.
A few minutes later, Jeongguk returns with coffee, and he wastes no time joining in from the chair beside you. You hum and nod sometimes, but it’s definitely hard to focus.
“You okay?” Jeongguk nudges you gently, observing you with big, understanding eyes.
Logically, it wouldn’t be weird for you to feel intimidated by the current topics, and it’s most likely what he thinks is the reason for your quietness.
“Yeah. Just… have a lot on my mind.”
He nods at the small smile you give him and surprises you by casually reaching for your hand on your lap. With his face forward and attention on the discussion, he briefly intertwines your fingers, stroking his thumb against your skin. Then before you know it, he’s pulling away.
“I have some… news,” Sana says with a lip balm in hand, watching your expression through the mirror as you exit the bathroom stall behind her.
“Okay…” you say, confused, joining her at the sinks to wash your hands.
“I’ve been in touch with a lawyer. You know how the bar owners said they didn’t save any footage from the Christmas party?”
You nod, thinking back to how you practically begged the owners of the bar where you all went for the after party to release their footage. They said no, said their cameras weren’t functional, and the chief didn’t grant the search warrant you requested. It was always so clear that the owners liked the business that the nearby station’s get-togethers brought, and you definitely know at least one of them was real buddy-buddy with some officers.
“Jimin and Jeongguk helped me get it. It was Ryung, not the one who put the drugs in the drink, but who asked the bartender to. I’ve been in touch with a lawyer, and we think we have clear enough evidence to prosecute.”
Your eyes are wide. Fuck, you hadn’t expected them to work together like that. The owners trying to protect whatever officer it was, sure, maybe even due to threats from said officer, but to have evidence of them essentially committing the crime together?
“Oh my God. Sana… That makes me so… I wanna say happy?”
She chuckles, but you can tell there are emotions bubbling under the surface. Fortunately–thank God–nothing happened to her that night since you and the rest of her friends at the station were quick to notice that something was wrong and took her to the hospital, but you can only imagine what it’s like to know that someone–most likely watching her in her day to day life–drugged her. Of course, their intentions were anything but good, and walking around, not knowing who was bold enough to try, and might just give it another shot, would terrify anyone. At least you knew who was trying to get rid of you.
“Something… needed to happen here,” she places the lip balm in her pocket, turning her full attention to you through the mirror. “We’ve been brave and fighting tooth and nail, but it was never going to be enough because we’re women and outnumbered. The men here, they either knew or didn’t–and evidently there were actually quite a few who shared Jeongguk’s belief–but the ones who knew–even if they didn’t partake–they didn’t stand up for us. I hate that you left without telling us–”
“–Would you have let me go?”
“No, of course not. In hindsight, yeah, it was the best thing you could’ve done because we needed something to happen. We needed Jeongguk. But when I found out that you were at the hospital after going on a solo mission with him? I thought he’d killed you.”
You let your gaze fall to the floor sadly. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”
Sana touches her hand to your shoulder, giving you a sad but understanding smile, “How are you now? I imagine it’s scary, knowing they haven’t been caught yet.”
You sigh. “Yeah. I don’t know, in a way, I feel… numb. Sometimes I used to think I heard stuff… Footsteps, voices… Living with Jeongguk makes me feel safer in some ways.”
“But?”
You exhale, feeling your shoulders drop slightly.
Sana gives you a sad and almost defeated look. “Don’t do that. I really think he’s one of the good ones.”
“Don’t do what? Nothing is going to happen.”
“You sure? Knowing you, would you have agreed to live with him if you didn’t like him at least a little? And do you have any idea how much he cares for you? I heard from Jimin that he worked his ass off just to find out where you were, like from the moment he was discharged from the hospital and we wouldn’t tell him. He still asked about you almost everyday, even after he figured out your location and technically could go and see for himself. He works day in and day out to catch these guys for what they did to us and to him, but mostly for you.”
You tap your nails against the porcelain sink, listening to her words but not sure what to make of them. “He might be one of the good guys but I promise you, nothing like that is ever going to happen. Not between us.”
She purses her lips. “Okay, if you’re certain. But be honest with yourself if anything changes.”
“So, you and Jimin,” you change the subject, watching Sana roll her dark eyes and fail to suppress a smile.
“He’s a sweet guy. I didn’t think I needed to talk about what happened at that party, I thought I was over it. But since nothing happened and we never knew who it was? I guess I never let myself really process it and the always-present… fear I lived with. I know I talked to you, but I think I needed to talk to someone who in a way wasn’t in the same boat.”
“I get that,” you smile a smile that grows into a wide grin, “Can you believe it? We might finally get some justice.”
Two hours later, you’re rushing from the station’s front doors to the parked car, rain still falling from the gray sky. Jeongguk makes it before you, opening the passenger door.
Weird, why would you drive his car?
He looks back at you where you’ve come to a stop, “What are you waiting for? Get in,” he smiles, undoubtedly confused. There’s a raindrop running slowly from his forehead, down between his eyebrows and down the side of his nose.
Oh. He opened the door for you.
You move your legs, getting inside while Jeongguk remains standing there with his hand on the top of the door. As soon as you’re comfortably inside, he shuts it and rounds the car.
“Do you want to come with me or should I drop you off at home on the way?”
“Home, please. I think one station a day is enough for me,” you let out a stressed laugh at the mention of Jeongguk’s old workplace, gazing out through the window.
“Of course,” he says, placing his arm on the back of your seat to look behind him, reversing the car.
You fiddle with your hands in your lap, glancing over at him while he steers the car out onto the road. “So, Sana told me she might have a case against Ryung as well.”
“Yeah. If the bartender testifies against him, which I think he’ll do considering all the other charges we’re working on. If we can just catch them first to make him more relaxed with them in custody.”
You nod, more so to yourself. You hope the bartender testifies that he didn’t drug Sana by his own accord. Hopefully, he’d rather share the blame than take it all, even if he fears an eventual revenge act by Ryung’s cop friends.
“And you helped her?” you ask, tapping your fingers against your jean-clad thighs anxiously.
“To get the tapes, yeah. I remembered you told me what happened to her, so I asked her when I got back, and she explained everything. Owner was a real asshole and definitely tried to avoid it, so I might have threatened him a little.”
You look at the side of his face as he continues. “That if he didn’t hand all the footage over and make sure the cameras are always up and functional, I’d look into every crevice of the bar. Which, we technically can’t, because we don’t have any legal reason to at the moment. But I’m hoping it might deter them from shitty behavior in the future.”
He’s got such stunning features; the nose, the jaw, his eyes… His hair is relatively unstyled, parted to reveal his forehead. You didn’t think he could get more physically attractive, but boy, were you wrong. How much of one’s attractiveness is due to their personality? You find it so… heart-warming to know that he helped your friend and didn’t bring it up with you in order to win any brownie points. It feels like… he did it because he truly wanted to help her and left it to her to decide who should know.
“Thank you, Jeongguk,” you say earnestly, watching him turn his head to look at you for as long as he can before he has to focus his attention back to the road.
“No problem.”
You hear Jeongguk drive off only when you’re safely inside. Slowly but surely, your heart rate continues to increase, almost at the same rate as the rain that’s on a whole new level now. You faintly recall reading something about a smaller storm rolling through the city, but you didn’t remember it happening this week.
The first thing you do is lock the front door. You even pull on the handle a few times just to be sure, and then you head toward the living room before you walk back, checking it again.
It’s six p.mm when the first round of lightning hits. Holding your breath, you wait for it. One, two, three… There it is, the thunder. It shakes the entire house, and you feel restlessness fill your body. Your feet take you through the house and into your bedroom, locking both locks and sitting down on the floor with your back against the bed.
However, Jeongguk removed the curtains for better access to the window and seems to have forgotten to put them back up. There’s a small space between the wooden planks, and you turn your head away as lightning flashes through.
Your breathing turns shallow, and you rise to your feet again. One, two… Any second now, it could happen. Any second. It rumbles again, and you feel it in your entire body.
Unlocking your bedroom door, you end up wandering the hallway in search of a calmer spot. You find a fitting room, and you pull the thicker curtains closed before slumping down with your back against the bed. The silence between the thunder fills your head with thoughts and memories and your body aches in pain. Trying to tune out the waves of thunder, you hide your face against your arms that are hugging your knees to your chest. It’s closer now, and you feel the walls rumble with it.
You try to keep calm, but your shoulders are so tense. It feels like it’s right above you; it never moves. Moment after moment passes but it never moves.
Footsteps stop next to you.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” someone says, and you open your eyes, peering over your arm at the familiar but worried face where he’s kneeling beside you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
When did he even return? Wasn’t he supposed to visit the other station? Or… has he already? You can’t tell.
“I’m… fine,” you sniffle, raising your head, and meeting his brown eyes for a second. “It’s just that… bad things tend to happen to me when it storms.”
“I see,” he says, “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
You shrug because it’s his house, after all. Jeongguk sits down next to you with his back against his bed as well, barely touching your side.
“No one is looking for us, you know?” he informs quietly. “We’ll be perfectly fine in this house. Jimin said that according to the latest updates, he thinks they're at least four hours away, and they definitely have more important things to prioritize than looking for you. Besides, I’m here, and I’m prepared this time so no one’s getting to you, okay?”
He nudges you softly with his shoulder. You nod shakily, trying to breathe calmly. For a while, you sit there on his bedroom floor, next to each other, until the worst passes. He makes it better; the feeling of his arm gently pressed against yours, the sound of his quiet breaths, and the scent of his cologne all pull you out of a darkness.
“We should do something.”
A lot calmer, you turn your head to meet his eyes, reflecting once again over how kind they look. There’s an additional sparkle in there too.
“Do… what?”
He stands up, holding out his hand for you. “Come on.”
A bit skeptical, you still give in and take his hand, letting him help you up. He doesn’t explain whatever plan he’s got, but you follow him into the kitchen where he stops.
“Teach me how to bake?”
“Jeongguk… I’m not a baker, myself,” you look at him, confused.
“But you baked those cookies? And they were good?”
“Yeah, I followed a recipe and had a bit of luck. Wouldn’t know how to replicate that without the exact instructions. I only know how to bake, like, one thing, and the last time I tried, it turned out terrible.”
“And that is?”
“Okay, uhm, eggs? And… butter?”
You watch as Jeongguk opens the fridge, searching for the ingredients you list.
“And we’ll need flour, baking soda, sugar, and… I’m guessing you don’t have vanilla extract?”
He places a cartoon of eggs and a stick of butter on the kitchen table before looking at you with a guilty face. “...No.”
“Alright, well, I guess we can do without. But we’ll need the flour, baking soda, and sugar; you have that?”
“Coming right up.”
You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips as you place his laptop on the counter, not displaying a recipe but a Netflix documentary.
Jeongguk follows your directions flawlessly, except for ‘accidentally’ making somewhat of a flour mess and tasting just a little too much of the batter. The cupcakes go inside the preheated oven, and he starts cleaning the kitchen and doing the dishes in the meantime. Although your creations are a tad bit too dry for your liking, and you have to stop Jeongguk from popping an entire one into his mouth the second they’re out of the oven, you guess he succeeded because you don’t spare the dwindling rain any more thought.
At least not until you’ve closed the laptop and put the cupcakes in the fridge, turning the lights off in the kitchen. You’ve joked and laughed, but now that it’s quiet… You bite your lip, standing outside your room with your fingers on the handle of the half open door.
“Everything okay?”
You turn your head, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes. He’s stopped on the way to his own bedroom, and you make an effort to smile at him, “Yeah. I probably won’t be able to sleep… with the rain, but it’s okay.”
“Sleep with me in my bed?”
You can’t help the risk analysis your brain performs. It’s the concept of laying your unconscious body in an extremely vulnerable state next to a being much bigger and five times stronger than you, whose kind you know to be extremely violent and without a trace of empathy. But Jeongguk has had plenty of chances to hurt you, and in that way, he hasn’t. He quite literally could’ve murdered you when you fell asleep against him on the couch and didn’t even wake up fully when he carried you to bed.
“Okay,” you nod, taking the leap and watching him smile and continue to his room.
You change in your own room, emerging in a pair of baby blue cotton shorts and a white, loose t-shirt. Jeongguk is wearing a similar outfit, only his shorts are longer and his entire outfit is black, and he’s pulling away the bedspread as you enter his bedroom. Despite just spending hours with him, your heart rate increases.
He looks back at you over his shoulder. “You know, I’m sorry for making you sleep in bed with me back at the house. I thought you seemed uncomfortable because you were a little prudish, not because…”
“Because I was scared of you?” you continue, smiling softly at his confession.
He nods, and you see the way sadness fills his eyes.
“It’s okay. Thank you, though.”
There’s still a trace of hesitation in his eyes, so you roll your eyes playfully as you sit down on the bed. “Get in, Jeongguk.”
He follows your instructions, switching the lights off first, and though you’ve slept beside him in the past, it feels so different. There was always a tension, mostly because you were quite literally fearing for your life, but also because you did find him insanely attractive.
In the middle of the night, you wake up to the bed moving and soon after feeling Jeongguk reach for you in a clumsy way that definitely means he’s not awake. With his arm around your waist, he pulls you back against him, nuzzling his face into your hair and sighing. He’s really, really warm and sturdy, and you find that… it doesn’t scare you that much. Not too long after, you feel him tense a little and start to pull back his arm, a sign that he’s awake and realizing what he’s done. Surely surprising him–and honestly, yourself too–you grasp his hand to keep it there, and a few beats of silence later, you feel him snuggle just a little closer.
When you wake up in Jeongguk’s warm, white sheets, you’re alone. Rolling over, you find yourself face to face with the ring, still on his bedside table. Should you ask him about that? (Or about how you basically cuddled?) Is it weird or are you overthinking stuff? You observe the shiny gold for a minute before you stretch your arms over your head and decide to get up.
After visiting the bathroom, you head toward the kitchen. Expecting Jeongguk to have left already, you’re surprised to see him at the kitchen table, still wearing the clothes he slept in.
“You’re not going to the station today? I thought you had some sort of meeting” you question, walking to the fridge to grab a cupcake and pour yourself a glass of apple juice.
Jeongguk puts his phone down, scraping the last of the cereal from the bowl in front of him onto the spoon. “Moved it to Wednesday. Thought I’d stay home today.”
You wonder if it’s because of you and the bad day you had yesterday, but you don’t voice your thoughts. It’s still raining, but luckily there hasn’t been any more thunder, and it’s supposed to last until tomorrow. Though, while you can handle ordinary rain, it feels… good to have him close by.
After breakfast, Jeongguk resumes working in his office. You’re not really sure what to occupy yourself with, and although he left the door open, you don’t want to disturb him.
You end up in the kitchen, inventorying the contents of the fridge, freezer, and cupboards. You used up the last of the butter when you made the cupcakes, and although there are a couple of eggs left, if you want to bake, you should probably get some more.
With a list in your phone, you knock on the open door to Jeongguk’s office.
“Can I borrow the car? I was thinking of going grocery shopping.”
He turns to you in the chair, leaning back. “Are we out of something? I went not too long ago and thought I got everything?”
“I want to try baking some more.”
From confused, his features turn to understanding.
“Yeah, of course. I have the bike in case I get called in,” he turns back to the computer screen, clicking around. “Hold on a minute, and I’ll get my card.”
You pull the door closer to your body. “It’s alright, I’ll pay.”
Jeongguk swirls the chair all the way to face you and stands up before you, looking down at you, “I don’t mind, though.”
“Jeongguk, you’re very kind, but it’s not like I’m without pay. I can pay for some things while living in your house.”
“I know, but you still pay rent for your own apartment that you can’t live in at the moment, you pay for your car you can’t safely use, and I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t really have to, so in a sense, you’re paying that price as well. And it’s partially because of me. Just let me pay.”
“You’re stubborn, you know that?” you roll your eyes but let him pass you into the hallway.
“In a good way, I hope,” he calls out.
You follow him, taking the car key and card he just pulled out of his wallet from his hand. “And please just use it. I’ll check.”
“Fine.”
He grins happily, and then he returns to his office. But the joke’s on him because you do use his card at the grocery store, but you also take the opportunity to fill the car up with gas, and for that, you pay with your own card.
It’s just past noon when you return, locking the car in the garage and carrying the grocery bags inside. You notice the empty office on your way to the kitchen, and doesn’t it seem very… quiet? Then again, wasn’t the bike still in the garage?
You bring the groceries to the kitchen, unpacking everything before checking your phone again. If Jeongguk left he would’ve at least texted you, right? When there’s no notification from him, you conclude that he must be somewhere in the house, so you set out to find him.
You peer into his bedroom, finding it empty just like his office. Next, you open the door into your room, but he isn’t there either. That leaves, what, the bathroom?
The door to the bathroom is ajar, and as you approach, you see movement inside. Jeongguk stands with his back toward the door, sorting and throwing laundry into the washing machine. The final item he decides to wash is the shirt he’s currently wearing, and you watch him reach his hands to the back of his neck and then pull the black shirt over his head.
Which means that he’s left shirtless.
He places it in the washing machine and closes the door to it, unknowing of the way your heart has filled with an incredible weight, and you press your lips together in order to stop the bottom one from trembling.
The night that you almost died–Jeongguk more so than you–sometimes feels so distant. Like a terrible dream or something from another lifetime. But you’re now cruelly reminded by the large, very pink and ugly scar close to his shoulder blade.
He’s about to start the machine when he turns around as if he forgot something, worry filling his eyes and coloring his face when he spots you, on the brink of crying.
It doesn’t help you much, though, because there’s another huge, pink scar on his chest as well, spanning from right above where his heart should be and down a few inches.
You remember how he used to look when he couldn’t ever be bothered to wear a shirt around the fake house; how his warm, essentially flawless skin looked under the summer sun. And now, it’s going to look like that for the rest of his life. Because of you. You could’ve moved out of the way when Hoseong rushed toward you with the sword, but you didn’t. You could’ve at least tried, but you hadn’t.
“Jeongguk,” you whisper, distraught, taking a few steps toward him. He looks at you as you reach your hand out carefully, but he makes no effort to stop you, so you ghost your shaky fingers over the scar on his chest, as if it still hurts him.
“I–I…”
“Hey, it’s fine, okay?” he tries to meet your eyes, but you keep them on the scar, “It doesn’t hurt.”
He could’ve died. He was so, so close to dying. You nod, but your lip trembles as you tilt your head.
“Listen… I’m fine… They’re just scars. I’m not bothered by them. Not at all; I don’t think about them. I can barely see them.”
Your gaze drifts, and you spot another scar on the side of his ribcage. “And this? I don’t remember this?”
He lifts his arm a little, giving you a better view of it. Luckily, it’s not close to as big as the others. “This,” he says, touching his other hand to raised, pink skin, “is from the chest tube. The others are from, well, the sword and fixing my ribs and my lung.”
In order to get your attention, Jeongguk places two fingers under your chin and lifts it to search your eyes, “I’m okay, I promise. The doctors told me not to exert myself like I used to for a while, so I’m still taking it a little easy, but I’ll definitely be able to.”
You grab his hand, holding it tightly in the air between you. “You’ll be completely fine?”
“Yes. I mostly am already. I’m like 99%.”
You think about the damage the sword did to his body, and if he hadn’t taken the blow for you, Hoseong would’ve aimed it for your heart, and it would’ve pierced your body. It hurts just thinking about it.
Closing your eyes for a second, you nod softly before gently turning him around again to look at the scar on his shoulder blade. He lets you, standing patiently with his back to you.
“Have you tried any of those oils?” you sniffle.
“Oils?”
“That make them less noticeable.”
“I haven’t,” he answers over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’ll help since they’re so… textured. But if it’s just for appearance, I don’t mind. They don’t bother me.”
“It doesn’t hurt?” you ask to make sure, letting your fingers touch his skin still very lightly but less so than the previous ghosting touch.
He shakes his head, turning it forward again as if giving you free reign.
You trace the scar, the long vertical, raised line that thickens more to the middle. You’ve never seen scars like this before, not where you can even make out the stitches. For a moment, you stand there in silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your work?” you ask quietly.
He turns his head to the side, “What do you mean?”
“Back at the house, when I essentially yelled at you for being a shitty cop and about the patriarchy. Jimin said you worked a lot of domestic violence and sexual assault cases, like… voluntarily. Why didn’t you tell me that? Why did you let me go on and on about women’s rights and police violence and abuse when you were actually trying to do good?”
Jeongguk shrugs lightly, “Would it have helped? In the moment?”
You think about it, letting your hand fall from his back. He turns around and leans back against the washing machine, his hands on top of it behind him.
“I probably wouldn’t have believed you.”
It wouldn’t have helped. You were angry–furious–and upset, and it wouldn't have changed anything because you would’ve thought he was lying. Lying and somehow trying to invalidate your feelings.
“I had the feeling you needed to vent. I sorta realized then what your impression of me was, and I felt like I understood you more in that moment as well.” He tilts his head, looking down at you with those kind, brown eyes and a small smile.
“That I wasn’t a fake feminist, using the movement for my own personal and professional advantage? And that I actually thought you were the most misogynistic asshole to ever live, not just throwing blame around to victimize myself?”
Jeongguk chuckles at your colorful description, “Yeah.”
Even so, he still looks so… sweet.
<previous | next>
author's note: so i hope you like this spontaneous april fools' prank lol. i'm also really, really hoping that if you did like it that maybe you'll leave a reblog or an ask with your thoughts? makes my day to hear if you liked it (and what you liked)!!
NO ONE, BUT YOU ⋆ 전정국
. . . . KISS ME, dangerous. been so lost without you all around me . . .
pairing, jungkook x model f!reader tags/warnings, little suggestive/allusion to smut, fwb2l, not too plot heavy js vibes lol note, slightly edited version of one of my drafts while i work on other longer wips <3 taglist, @ggukivrse @bangatanily | click here to join taglist! love diaries music rec, "Shirt"— SZA
feedback is appreciated! xx
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
"Hold my hand in secret and kiss me when no one's looking."
Eyes skimming around the sky now felt like a burden, you just wanted to give up and collapse, finally, onto the couch or the ground would even do— for how you felt like a human wrapped in a cyclone, world feeling dizzy as fuck.
There behind, as the only source of light apart from the moon ablaze —an otherwise fluttering sight to drink in, if it weren't for the current scenario— lay your phone, chats blowing up like gushing water following a drought.
Him, Jungkook, is your best friend but with benefits. A mutual help was what you agreed upon but eventually it became really hard for your heart to continue to bottle up the feelings growing in, with each touch, each caress and each contact. Skin to skin.
Walking up towards the little table across the balcony, you pick up your phone, scanning the texts you just received from Jungkook. How he portrayed all the words, you couldn't believe he was feeling so.
Reciprocated.
Your love was bound back in all means from his fucking heart. Jeon Jungkook's heart.
Days ago, you were shattered by what he asked for, after you had your timbers shivering and knees clamping in all seriousness of the confession he presented before you.
Everything seemed to wash into your mind all at once, making things twice as hard. Tossing the gadget away, landing safe on the couch, his chat was still open. You took yourself into your well-kept bedroom, for a cup of water so that every piece of information, each adversity and ecstasy would sink in thoroughly.
"Hold my hand in secret and kiss me when no one's looking."
These couple of words echoed to and fro inside your tight heart, remembering when this was part of the "contract" / help you were lending to each other. He needed you, but was scared of society. A shit ton of insecurities ate him up alive each time, when he thought about how he'll be judged to be "using" you, the daughter of a revered model in South Korea.
But all you know is, you love him for good. You'd never regret being his friend and now, someone he loves. Society has clamped a huge pressuring weight on each one’s shoulder. Sometimes it is the constant nagging to remain perfect. Sometimes it's how you're not perfect / likable.
You don't give two hoots about the media, your "famous" family and your friends who go blind at shiny things. You'd gave no fucks about big and bold in the community. If you got the chance now, like right now, it'll be you on one knee with an imperfectly perfect paper ring, proposing to someone who already has your heart wrapped around in his strong fists.
"Oh, Jeon. You make me fucking crazy." You whisper, now, admiring the sky feels less a burden, that heart of yours somehow eased into peace.
She flipped, landed and spun in circles every time he touched you. Everytime his fingers came in contact with the one tiny tattoo resting on top of the skin right next to your sternum. Everytime he kissed you there and traced it with his tongue.
Funny how you address your heart as if it was a person, right? It is. Now, she has safely landed upon something, hilarious much, again how she found peace, her world in the chaos.
"Can I take her for a ride then?" You jumped at the sudden cameo of a familiar raspy voice. Yes. That's it. It's the very voice you longed to hear, even after all the confusion and frustration.
"Jungkook.." Oh. So you've been thinking out loud. Not embarrassing at all.
"Are you gonna let me in or should I stay hanging on your balcony?" He tightens the grip around the railing, trying to stay intact.
"Shit, sorry." You finally move, grabbing his wrists, surely not helping much as he pulls up and jumps over, hands landing taut around your waist as soon as he's on ground-level.
His eyes roam around yours, spewing a thousand words through its gaze.
And her. Your heart.
She was absolutely down. Damn much.
Toppling over and crash landing in the walls trying to break out and finally run into his heart.
"Calm down you stupid little organ. I'm not affected. No, not one bit."
You ironically smiled at him, as he raised a brow at you. Amusement written across his annoyingly good looking face.
"Stop."
"You're making me feel, Han." He spat, fierce and quiet.
"Stop this, or I might lose myself. And I'm fucking not taking myself back. Ever."
You exhaled, the anxiety slowly waving goodbye. He's playing.
"Is that so? Then hold my hand and make me yours as the world witnesses us, Jungkook. I know for a fact that nothing can change now. It’s now, or never." Both of you were deprived. It's been days since you saw him after the controversy that arose along with a few pictures of you spending time with him, all around social media.
It immediately sent your mind to overdrive, already seeing an end to the 6 month long arrangement.
But more than that, the years long friendship you shared with this man standing in front of you.
However, his eyes swam over yours, alerting you that he doesn't give a fuck. None about the media, none about your background.
He scoffs, leaning in. "The problem is,,"
He does that, for the first time in ages. He holds your chin to face him, like he used to do, back then. Now there's different emotions mixed in, with all the lust.
Love.
"If I kissed you, now and here, I'd not be able to stop. Don't fucking expect me to."
And there, his lips fall on yours, like a missing puzzle, skin hot against each other as he eventually picks you up in the process, and puts you down, towering over once again.
The gates of hell opened once more, as he pressed open mouthed kisses next to the v-line of your body-con, on the tattoo.
He wanted your body, pressed up against his heart. Your hands, spreading his thoughts. Gripping your love, hope and desires, cupping them with nothing but passion. Fire. You felt his soul breathing heavily against your collarbones. You felt him nibble all the un uttered thoughts onto your ears. His hopes, naked on your skin. You needed each other. In a way unexplainable for eternities to come.