#My phone did not like taking this close lol

[seitmai]

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

They are very eager, maybe a little too much to "get" a little sister 🫣

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin. “Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

Someone had to tell them lol

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end. “Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

This is not going well🥴

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

😬😬😬

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car. “Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

Puhh he really just sees or hearswhat he wants to see or hear 🥴

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.” The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?” “I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

He knows exactly how to push her buttons

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?” “I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?” He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

Geez, what a request to end the day 🫣

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | six.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 10.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, sorry if i missed anything i had to quickly edit in order to get this out lol, san x oc finally talk a little more abt each other - family - friends, small affectionate gestures and kisses, yes we have finally made it my friends… the sleepover where we discuss neuroscience papers!!!! lmao jk 😭 was not lying abt the true crime aspect tho (i fear i know nothing else), san also opens up a bit more about iseul, making out, neck kisses, breast play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, some clit play i guess!!, aftercare, cuddles

You decide to go to dinner with San, but the decision comes incredibly last minute. You've paced around your studio, sat on your bed for hours, going back and forth between a simple yes or no. Until, you finally realized you truly didn't wanna miss out. You felt like you'd regret it if you didn't just go to see what it'd be like.

Harmless.

Eunchae and Jurin are gone for the weekend for other family commitments, but you still find yourself having to make up some sort of scenario for the boys in case they come barging in while you're getting ready. You tell them that you're spending the afternoon with your mom and that you'll be back later tonight in case they wanna come over and hang out. Boys being boys— they don't pry much and leave it at that.

You let out a breath just after you end the call with Jiung and set your phone aside, dabbing a bit more blush onto the apples of your cheeks. 

San told you to meet him at a restaurant that's very Nobu-esque, and you damn near dropped your phone when you pulled up the directions and saw pictures of the fancy interior. Even if you protested, he wouldn't let up— promising you that he'd take care of everything and that he just wanted you to have a good time with him. He asked once more if you were sure about driving, and you insist; just for the one time, to play things safe, to relieve yourself of the pressure of having to be with San in a car in case dinner doesn't pan out well [for whatever reason].

You are equally excited, nervous and terrified. Might feel a little queasy from the combo.

You run the lip gloss across your lips before pressing them together, spreading it across the surface. You check the time and pack your things into your purse, giving yourself a little bit of wiggle room for the 30-minute drive east to meet San. You check yourself in the mirror and dust yourself off, smoothing down the simple, black cami-strap dress you have on. Good thing you checked the restaurant's dress code on their website last night, or else, you might have walked into the place in something a little more casual.

Not classy. Elegant. Black and white attire only.

You run off to your car without being spotted by anybody you know. You did run into a few classmates and other familiar faces, but ones that won't even bat an eye as to why you're running across the lot in heels and a black dress. You get into your car and warm it up before turning up the heat, pulling up one of your playlists and sending San a text to let him know you're leaving campus. The drive isn't so bad when your playlist is hyping you up, along with the clear highways. You've gotta cross a bridge and pay the toll on your way back, but you don't mind; you feel a sense of relief wash over you being that you've gotten yourself this far from campus.

You knew people from campus weren't fond of coming to the east side. It tailored way too much to the wealthy, hence, San's choice for tonight's dinner.

The side streets are a little too busy in the downtown area, but you finally catch sight of the restaurant on the corner of an intersection; nestled underneath a modern, upscale 5-star hotel. When you pull into the lot, San is chatting it up with the valet. He laughs and you catch that smile of his, his dimples. He's in a black button up, and black slacks. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, the silver chain hanging around his neck— sitting prettily across his collarbones. He points at your car and signals your arrival to the valet, the staff member immediately meeting you at the driver's side when you park in front of the booth.

"Your lady has arrived." The valet says, taking your hand in his before passing you along to San and getting into your car to park it in the lot.

"Hey beautiful." San takes your hand in his and smiles down at you adoringly. "How was the drive?"

"Good." You're barely able to maintain contact because of how shy and nervous you've become being around him. He can tell, though. He chuckles and gives your hand a gentle squeeze before reassuring you with a:

"Promise I'll take care of you tonight, okay? Don't get shy on me."

"Who said I was?"

"You can barely look me in the eye, Y/N." You look up at him and try to hold eye contact, but you shrink; subtly biting onto your lip and hiding behind him when the host greets him like he's known him forever. He walks through the restaurant, heading towards the private back patio. This section is closed off and by reservation only— your guess is that San bought out the patio for your enjoyment, to ease your nerves. And you're proven right when the host slides the back door open, and there's only one table draped in white linen in the middle of the garden. There's a candle in the middle of the table and a singular red rose on your plate, San deciding to forego the additional decorations and rose petals because he didn't wanna do too much for a first dinner. He just didn't wanna overwhelm you knowing you might already be, but he hopes you know he'd take care of you in all ways if you'd let him— the roses and candles being a glimpse into that.

"The waiter will be with you both shortly." The host does a curt bow before leaving you and San in the patio.

"Choi San." You look at and he cocks a brow, trying to prevent himself from smirking too big.

"Mhm?" He looks at you.

"Why did you buy out the whole patio?!"

"To keep you comfortable." He smiles, eyes roaming your figure and the way your dress hugs you so, so beautifully.

"San." You frown a bit. "You didn't have to spend all that just for me."

"Um, yeah. I did, sweetheart." He laughs. "I wanted to. The last thing I wanted was for you to worry tonight." You slowly sit in the high chair in front of him, taking the singular rose to your nose before smiling shyly at him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." His hands are clasped together, elbows resting on the table— his piercing eyes bore into you. "How was your day?"

"It was good. I didn't do much besides get ready for the evening. Had to tell the boys I was running off for the evening like Eunchae and Jurin." San nods and sips his water.

"Sorry love."

"For what?"

"For having you lie to your friends."

"They don't care much." You wave it off with a giggle. "How was your day?"

"Well, I was gonna hang out at Jongho's but someone told me they wanted to go to dinner last minute."

"Wonder who that could be?" You tease and he laughs a bit.

"Yeah, right? She's lucky she's cute." He teases back and the heat rises to your cheeks.

"Didn't mean to impose on your plans with the other Professor Choi."

"Never. I see him all the time, he won't mind if I leave him behind for an evening." You laugh.

"Touché." At this point, the waiter comes and sets down some complimentary edamame before taking orders. You decline any alcohol solely because of your drive home, and San follows suit. He proceeds to order the food for tonight after remembering you didn't have any specific allergies, giving him free range to order things he enjoys, but also knows you'd love. 

Wagyu.

Chef's choice omakase.

Other choices of nigiri, like toro. 

Uni tempura.

Squid pasta with garlic sauce.

Chilean seabass with dry miso.

It all comes out of San's mouth like the price tag is nonexistent, and you're internally screaming. How could he be so damn charming and suave? Let alone, this is how he spoils you for the first dinner?

"That's all." San smiles toothlessly before handing over the menus to the waiter. He licks his lips and shifts in his position as if he didn't just order a line of the most expensive items on the menu.

"San, this is gonna be so expensive. I can't accept this. Please let me at least pay for half."

"Uh, no. What did I tell you, Y/N? I'd take care of you tonight. I meant it. Just enjoy yourself for me." You sigh and tilt your head before playfully rolling your eyes.

"I can't with you."

"Yes, you can." He chuckles. "So, tell me."

"Hm?" You hum.

"About you."

"What about me?"

"I wanna know everything and anything about you." He gives you that look. "I wanna know what Miss Y/N is about outside of her CV." You snort at the comment, the reality of you being San's rotation student almost hitting you dead in the face until you decide to brush it off completely.

"Well, I'm the only child?" You say in a questioning tone, unsure of where to start. But, the conversation eventually flows on its own. You tell San about your mom being a single mom and how it's always been you two from the very beginning. You don't know much about your dad, but you don't mind talking about it if asked. It's not necessarily a sensitive or heavy topic for you; it's just unfortunate that you don't have anything to add simply because you don't know him. You have family nearby, but your family is small. You don't have cousins you're close to, your relatives are mostly middle-aged, older.  Your grandparents were around up until you were in high school, then they both died from illnesses that got to the best of them.

Then, that was that.

You and your mom— mostly you, doing things for your own and on your own while your mom continued to work tirelessly at the hospital to keep food on the table. Rent. Necessities. You worked a few jobs throughout school to help as much as possible, but your mom always told you to put your studies first and to never force yourself if your body was too tired, too overwhelmed. It felt hard for awhile because your mom was barely around. When she was, she was tired. You felt distant, almost like you couldn't be close to your mom regardless of how hard you tried. You didn't think you'd be able to build a better relationship with her until you moved away for college. When you finally had your own space and the distance in between, your relationship blossomed and she became your bestfriend. Then, you tell San how you feel the utmost pressure to make her proud because you're the only child, the only person she can rely on in the future. The only person who can also truly disappoint her, which you don't want. 

Though, you feel like you've already started wandering down that path.

You're slightly interrupted when the waiter comes to bring in half of the order, starting with the nigiri and chef's choice, setting it down in the middle of the table. You both thank him before he says he'll be right back with the rest, San giving you the priority and freedom to choose whichever you want to eat. When you start to dig in, you continue to tell San about your friends and how Jiung's been your longest friend since high school. Otherwise, there haven't been too many people you could call your close friends. You knew people, you socialized, but you weren't one to toss the 'close/good friend' term around unless you felt a genuine, real connection with someone. You do feel like you could say that for Felix, Eunchae and Jurin even though it hasn't been long since you've known them; you've clicked with them easily and well. You're grateful for it. 

The conversation switches to San's point of view now, and he begins with his family dynamics. He relates to the pressure of making his parents happy as the only child, but he likes to think he's done well for himself so far. He talks about school and how brutal it was for him and his friends— San had a great mentor, but it was hours and hours of clocking in with no endpoint. Days and days of just hustling to finish and make sure he was producing amazing work. You reassure him by telling him you think it's all paid off, adding a little dash of seasoning with your 'or else we wouldn't be here, right?' playful teasing. He touches up on Jongho and their longtime friendship, followed by Mingi, Yeosang, Christopher, and now, Namjoon. He does talk about how him and Yunho used to be bestfriends, inseparable even, but he doesn't go into the details of what went down between him and Iseul. 

You won't press him. You'll let him come to you when he's ready to open up about it. Even though San acts like he's fine and he's moved on [he has], you can only imagine how it feels to replay the entire situation in your head, with the two people you trusted and adored more than anything.

"So, yeah. Namjoon and I got close because he was really there for me throughout a lot of the stuff that's happened. Even just down to minuscule things for the lab, my classes— anything. He's always been there for us no matter how busy he is."

"That's good. I can tell Namjoon really cares about you guys and the students."

"He's a good guy. His wife is lucky." You laugh.

"Do you see your parents often?" You watch as San puts another helping of the pasta and fish on your plate.

"From time to time, yeah, when they're around. My dad still travels a lot for business. Even though he stopped teaching, he's on a few boards as a consultant and agrees to talk for conferences or symposiums all the time. Mom's retired so she joins along. What about you?"

"I try to see her when I can. She's worked as a nurse at this hospital all her life, basically." He nods. "So, do you and the guys all live near each other?"

"Uh, sorta? Namjoon lives a bit further down south, but Mingi, Yeosang, Chris and Jongho live in close proximity."

"When you're not at work, do you just hang out with each other?" 

"For the most part. We're not always together, though. We like having our own space." He laughs. "Mingi used to pop up randomly and I had to tell him to stop doing it so often."

"Aw, he just wants your company. Don't be mean."

"I'm not mean! I just like to have my peace. Mingi is everything but peace." You laugh.

"Your home must be nice for him to be barging in like that."

"It is. I take pride in it now, not gonna lie." He sips his water, eyes gazing at you from over the rim of his glass. "You know, you're always welcome at my place." You look at him and slowly nod, trying to let the statement sink in. None of it feels weird to you; in fact, it makes you more curious to know about San's personal life. His home. What it'd be like to be in his space, alone.

"I'll keep that in mind. Might have to take you up on that one day." He smirks a bit.

"Yeah? That's kinda nice to hear. Lets me know I didn't entirely blow this." You giggle.

"Not at all." He sits back in his chair, content and satisfied from tonight's meal. He sees that you've finished everything on your plate, your attention now on the garden to your left while you sip on your water. He can't even deny how attracted he is to you, and how he has this indescribable pull to you. You're beautiful, and from your interactions, the way you speak and carry yourself, the passion behind your work, the way you care about your friends and mom— you've got a good, comforting soul that could balance his own. Almost like Yin and Yang, Tui and La. "What?" You ask him all innocently and he's struggling. He can't even help the huge smile that grows on his face when he looks at you.

"Nothing." He runs his finger across his bottom lip. "You're just.. so beautiful."

"Thank you, San." You respond softly and he feels his heart melt. The waiter comes back with the check, in which San is quick to hand over his card before you can even get your hands on it. You give him a look and he laughs, shaking his head after playfully reminding you that he'd take care of you. 

"Any plans for the rest of the weekend, or next week?"

"Not really. I'll probably hang out with the boys while the girls are gone. Next week, I've got a lot of behavior to run for Sunwoo, things to prep for the class I'm TAing for." He nods.

"Always working so hard."

"Uh, yeah. Especially for you." You poke fun at him and laugh. "What about you?"

"Mm, I have to actually start prepping for the symposium because it's coming up."

"Do you have your talk ready to go?"

"Nah." He shrugs. "But, I will."

"Do you still get nervous for talks?"

"Oh yeah, absolutely."

"You look so natural when you're doing it, though. I wouldn't have expected it."

"I do. I get pretty nervous. Not as bad as before, I'm able to shake it off better now." He lets out a breath, the both of you popping the little coffee candy that came with the check.

"How bad was it before?"

"Hm." He hums and thinks about it for a second. "Right before my first lecture for the big neuroscience association conference, I almost threw up. I was so nauseated, was dry-heaving for a good minute before I could get myself together."

"What? I would have never guessed." 

"Took a lot to get used to it. Still getting used to it." He smiles brightly. "But, I'm glad you think so. At least I'm doing something right." He looks at the date on his phone. "Speaking of the neuroscience association conference, the next one is coming up. Did you and your friends register to go?"

"Me, Jiung and a few others, yeah. Felix, Eunchae, Jurin and everyone else is just going to go on the trip cause they know that's where everyone will be at."

"Can't disagree, it'll be party central for the neuroscience community." You laugh.

"Can't wait to experience it." You look at him. "Will you be busy during the entire duration of the conference?"

"Mm, yeah. I've got a few other commitments and meetings. Lots of colleagues I haven't seen in awhile will be there, so I'll be catching up with them. There's also another smaller conference nearby that I'll be speaking at upstate before I head back down for the main one." 

"Busy you."

"Maybe. I'll always have time for you, though." He winks and you laugh it off. At this point, San stands and stretches before reaching out his hand for you to grab. "Ready to go?"

"I am." You take his hand and stand in front, letting San pull you flush against his body; hands resting on the small of your back.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing the surface. Eyes examining your features closely. "Kinda wanna re-do the first kiss. Wanna do it right this time." You bite your lip and nod, eyes locked onto his lips as he leans forward. His lips meet you in a soft, tender kiss— one that isn't rushed, one that releases all your feelings into the universe, the galaxies. One that feels so natural, so meant to be.

One that gives you butterflies,

One that also unravels Pandora's box.

He holds the kiss for longer than expected, letting his lips mold into yours delicately. When he pulls away, he quickly reattaches his lips to yours; indulging in small sweet, repeated kisses before he kisses your forehead. He pulls back completely to look at you again, and he's admiring every inch of you from underneath the moon. You watch his jaw slightly tick, Adam's apple bob up and down; eyes full of desire. Need. Encompassing you, all of you.

"Hope you enjoyed dinner."

"I did, San. Thank you, again."

"No, thank you for joining me." He flashes you a cute, toothless smile before lacing his hand with yours. "Shall we? Do you want dessert or something?"

"I'm good, I'm stuffed. The food was so good." You pat your tummy as the both of you walk out of the restaurant and head towards valet, thanking the staff on your way out.

"Yeah, it was. Glad you're satisfied and happy." He presses a kiss to the surface of your hand just before greeting the valet. He runs to bring over your car first, parking it off to the side by the entrance to the lot to give you and San some time to say goodbye. San pops the driver's door open, allowing you to slide in while he hangs by the door. 

"Thank you again for tonight." You buckle your seat belt and look at him.

"Course. Drive safely, okay? Text me when you get home please."

"I will." 

"Good." He smirks before dipping down to give you another kiss on the lips. He shuts the door and gives you one last wave before walking towards his own car and letting you drive off. 

The butterflies that man gives you is insane. 

You can't even help but smile widely during the drive home, recounting each moment of the night and how you've quickly grown comfortable with San as a person. He's easy to talk to, easy to get along with.

Easy to be attracted to. Easy to be charmed by.

Easy to love.

You see it. You see why people love him and adore him, you see the bright aura he has. You see why people respect him.

You see yourself and him.

And the thought never leaves your mind once after that. You want San, just as he with you.

You head home alone that night, and the idea about being alone with San more— off campus, anywhere but there— becomes more and more enticing. It doesn't leave you for a few days, even while San is trying to give you the space to take things slowly. He's never pressured you into moving at a pace you didn't like, always gently touching you but never doing anything that would make you overwhelmed. Not only does he know you two have to be careful, but most importantly, he knows all of this is a lot. In general.

So, he sticks to the cute texts and phone calls.

Quick mini-meetings in his office in between commitments, especially during the rare moment of an empty basement. Quick hello's in said office that result in chaste kisses and you darting out before anyone can think twice about why you've been in Professor Choi's office twice [or thrice] in one day.

You do want to be alone with him more, though. You want to see what possibilities lie behind closed doors, the ways you both could show each other your feelings. You want to see where else this could take you two, how it could continue to grow. Where things could head once you two are alone in a space together, with no background noise. No outsiders.

you: are you in your office?

san: sure am!

"San?" You poke your head into his office before sliding in and locking the door. The basement was incredibly [and unusually] empty for a weekday, San's office door and the walls the only thing separating you two from each other.

"Hey." He smiles from his desk, immediately pushing his chair back so he can stand and pull you close. "Wasn't expecting a visit from you right now."

"Sorry." You pout a bit and he shakes his head before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I should've asked if you were free first."

"Mm, well." He hums. "I've always got time for you, remember?" You giggle. "Is everything okay?"

"Kinda?"

"Kinda? What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He sits back on the edge of his desk, hand pulling you towards him and slotting you in between his legs.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Mhm?" He says in a sing-song tone, curious about what you surprisingly popped in for.

"Can I come over?" His eyes widen a bit; not because he doesn't want you to, no. But because he's been dying to have you over. He's just been waiting until you seemed more ready to take that step.

"Tonight?" You nod, playing with his hands. "Of course you can." He pulls his hands away just to rest them behind your back. "Sure you wanna?"

"I do." He chuckles.

"I'll pick you up this time? Down the street from your building."

"Okay."

"Is that all that's been bothering you?"

"I just wasn't sure how to ask without seeming too eager, or desperate, or—"

"Hey." He laughs a bit, brushing your hair away from your face. "Never that. I've been wanting you over, but I wanted to wait until you seemed more comfortable." You relax in his hold and sink into his touch more, fingers threading through the ends of his hair.

"I wanna stay." You boldly let out, causing San to smile.

"You can stay. Whatever you want. Have more than enough room for you, sweetheart." He leans forward to meet you in a sweet, simple peck. "What time do you want me to come get you?"

"I should finish a few things before leaving."

"Just text me then, hm? I'll come whenever you're ready."

"Okay." You look at him before smirking. "That's all I wanted to talk about, Professor Choi." He chuckles, giving your side a good squeeze while biting his bottom lip.

"You're gonna be the death of me."

"Likewise." You playfully tap his nose before planting a kiss on his lips. "I'll text you later."

"Leaving already?" He pouts as you slowly pry yourself off of him because you're in his office. On campus grounds. You have to, even if you don't want to.

"I gotta get back to work, just like you do." You give him a look before waving by the door. "See you later."

"Mhm." He responds in a sing-song tone, crossing his arms tightly against his chest while he watches you walk out.

The butterflies you give him are insane.

After another long ass day of work and classes, you quickly grab dinner with your friends before rushing off to finish the rest of your assignments. You hop in a long, hot steamy shower— exfoliating and moisturizing like crazy. You strut around in your towel, throwing your toiletries into a huge bag, along with some clothes just in case. 

You can never go wrong with an emergency set of clothes and toiletries, right?

You send San a text to let him know you're about to be ready and throw on a lazy fit, feeling comfortable enough to not have to dress up for him during an occasion like this. It's a set of black wide-legged sweats and a cropped half-zip sweater, slipping into your platform Uggs for extra comfort. You step through your little cloud of perfume before grabbing your bag and heading out.

Ring, ring.

"Hey." You pick up the call, your eyes quickly scanning your surroundings. There isn't anyone in close proximity, but you still feel like someone might've caught onto the phone call coming through. Like someone could be listening, could be nearby, could be onto you.

"Where are you? I'm right outside the lot, leading into the residential street."

"I'm on my way. Someone might see you!"

"Y/N, I promise. No one's out here. This part of the street is pretty dead."

"Okay, but people coming in and out of the buildings?"

"I promise you it's fine and out of view. Hurry. I miss you." You roll your eyes when you hear the slight whine in his tone.

"Choi San, I swear." You mutter his name so lowly, paranoid of someone accidentally hearing you call your professor's name on the phone in passing.

"Mm, when you say my name like that, though." He wears a shit-eating smirk underneath the black mask he's wearing. Truthfully, he does look a little suspect hanging out in his car off to the side of the lot in a hat and black mask. He uses his second car, a Porsche Taycan, that he doesn't really take to campus— usually drives it when he wants to go for a drive down the highway by himself late at night, or when it's time to kick it with the boys. He's certain none of them are lingering around campus since they're always so quick to book it after their last meetings or classes. It's the best way he could conceal himself right now, he thinks.

It's all good.

"I'm coming out the side door. I'll be there in a second." You hastily hang up and tuck your phone in, feeling some kind of relief that you're almost at the stairs that'll lead you to the side—

"Yo!" Felix calls out with Jiung next to him. "Where are you going? We were just coming to bother you." He furrows his brows, eyes shifting to the huge tote bag you're carrying.

"I.. need to go to the lab."

"The lab? Now?" Jiung tilts his head. They're a little confused, but they're also not entirely surprised— people were in and out of the labs doing work at all times of the day. Some were night owls and preferred doing work late nights to avoid fighting over equipment and space during the day. It wasn't uncommon.

What is confusing is your large ass bag, though. For what?

"Yeah, I gotta check on one of the mice. The vet said they looked sick." Jiung and Felix nod as they take the lie. Again.

"Why are you bringing a big ass bag, though? Are you hauling the mice away or something?" Felix snorts.

"No, I have some supplies in here that I'm bringing over. We're building new behavior arenas now that the foundation of the rig is done." Felix shrugs.

"Oh, okay. Do you need us to walk you?"

"No!" You respond a bit too quickly that they're back to giving you weird, confused looks. "No— Sorry." You smile. "I'll be fine. I think Sunwoo has been there anyway. Thank you, though."

"Mm, okay then." Jiung shrugs. "Just let us know if you need us to come get you?" He pops another apple slice in his mouth.

"I will." You wave as you walk through the door and head down the steps in a hurry. 

"Was Y/N being a little weird or..?" Felix asks, but Jiung shrugs.

"Eh, she's probably a little overwhelmed or something." He turns down the hall. "Let's just go see what Eunchae is doing." 

You finally dart out the side door, doing a light jog over the grassy area and taking a shortcut towards the street that leads into the residential area from your building. You see San parked behind another car near the first house on the street, and San can see you making your way over through the rearview mirror. He smiles to himself when you near the car, pulling on the door handle to slide into the passenger's seat. His car smells like a mix of his air freshener, along with a hint of his cologne that you've slowly become obsessed with.

"Hey beautiful." He leans over the middle console and pulls down his mask. He puckers up his lips and it makes you giggle just as you lean in to give him what he wants. He doesn't pull back right away, no. Instead, he deepens the kiss and slips some tongue in, a shaky exhale released in between as his hand comes up to caress your cheek.

"Maybe we should leave." 

"Mhm." San teases as he continues to kiss you, smirking into the kiss. 

"San."

"Just one more." He chuckles before dipping forward and kissing you passionately again. You bite onto your bottom lip when he finally sits back in the driver's seat and rests his head against the headrest, admiring how cute you look in your leggings and hoodie. "You're cute."

"Stop." You giggle and shake your head. "Drive before someone sees us."

"Yes ma'am." He starts up the car and begins to drive to his destination. You're not really sure what to expect since it's your first time going to his place. You knew San was well off, but you didn't know what you were walking into— did he live in a modern, expensive ass apartment? Was it a penthouse? A regular single family home? You'll finally see why Mingi likes to barge in from time to time. "How was your day?" You're pulled out of your thoughts when he chimes in with the question.

"It was okay. I ran into Jiung and Felix as I was leaving." He leans against his window with one hand on the wheel, letting out a breathy laugh.

"Oh? How was that?"

"I don't know? I think they believed me. I said I was heading into lab." San shrugs.

"That's a good reason since it isn't uncommon. I'm sure it's fine, angel." He looks at you before returning his attention to the road in front of him. "It's pretty hot seeing you work so hard in my lab."

"Shut up, Professor Choi." He bites on his bottom lip before slipping his hand on your thigh. He gives it a good squeeze as he continues to drive in silence, the music softly filling the void in the car.

"Did you eat?" You nod.

"Mhm. Just grabbed something from the dining hall."

"Good."

"Did you?" He nods.

"Mhm. Just wanted to make sure you were okay, though."

"I am. Thank you." You watch as the surroundings pass you by while San takes you down towards another neighborhood near campus. A lot of other professors live closeby since the university has housing assistance for them as well. You just hope San's home is one of the select few that's isolated and isn't heavily populated with said group of professors.

When San pulls into his garage, you're a little surprised at the house. You're in awe because you wonder how San makes use of all this space living alone. It's a beautiful single family home, and you're sure the decision to buy this had come from Professor Lee when they had been married. You wonder if he still holds onto those memories, or why he didn't end up moving to another place. Perhaps—

"Y/N?" You snap out of it and turn to San, who has already parked the car and is unbuckling his seatbelt. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was spacing out."

"You sure you're okay?" He chuckles. The both of you step out of the car and head into the hallway that leads straight into his bar and kitchen area first. "I can practically hear you thinking, sweetheart." He kicks off his shoes and you follow suit, San waiting for you before walking deeper into his house. You look up at him and he gives you a small smile, holding out his hand for you to take. "Relax. You can ask me anything." He pulls you flush against him, hands gently rubbing up and down your sides. "Okay?" He tilts your chin up and presses a kiss against your lips, which surely does put you at ease.

"I'm just curious about some stuff."

"Like?" You step into the living room and set your bag down on the couch temporarily. Your eyes roam around, scanning the sleek and simple decorations. It gives off a classy, modern look; room full of brown, white and black themes, wood hints.

"I'm not sure I know how to ask." You rub at your arms while San grabs two wine glasses from the cabinets and sets them down on the island counter.

"Ask away. I won't mind. I think I already know where you're going with it, anyway." You walk towards the island and rest your elbows against the marble countertop. "Is wine good, or do you want something else?"

"Wine is good." You pause, fully taking in what San is wearing as he continues to move around the kitchen. He's casually dressed in black Essentials sweats with a matching black tee. He sets his hat off to the side, running a hand through his soft, black hair. You think San is attractive during the day with his usual button-up top and slacks, but this— this was even more attractive to you and had you buckling at the knees the more you ogled at him. "Don't you get lonely being in this big house? I-I mean, you used to live here with her, right?" You chime in, hoping not to seem too spaced out and in your thoughts again.

"Mhm. I've gotten used to it, though." He says with a soft smile. "By the way, white or red?"

"White, if you have any please." He nods.

"I got you." He digs into his wine cooler beneath the island.

"Why didn't you wanna sell this and buy another house?" He shrugs.

"To be honest, I've thought about it. Every corner of this house used to remind me of her and I'd hate it." He pours wine into your glasses. "But, I really do love the house and the space it gives me. I just flipped it into something I'd be happy and comfortable with, and I've moved past all of that. It just feels like my space now."

"That's good. As long as you're okay. You decorated your home beautifully too, San."

"I am, yeah. Thank you, pretty girl." He smiles and comes around the corner to wrap his arms around you from behind. He kisses the back of your head as you relax in his hold, letting out a small exhale. "Is there anything else you're curious about?"

"Not right now." San chuckles a bit.

"Okay, well. I'll be ready for the next time." He kisses your temple. "Why don't you get comfy so we can relax and watch a movie? Sip on some wine, eat some cheese and crackers." You giggle and turn to face him in his hold.

"You're gonna prep some cheese and crackers, too?"

"Why not?" He chuckles. "Let me take you upstairs so you can get comfortable." You grab your things and take his hand, silently following San up to the second level of his home. There's a little loft that he's converted into a small gaming area— another smaller L-shaped sectional couch nestled against the walls with his gaming consoles on the shelf beneath the TV, board games neatly stacked away. There's a guest room to your right, his office to the left. You peek and find a large bookshelf covering the back wall behind his large desk and computer set up. "Here's my room." He takes you into his large master bedroom; sheets neatly made, large master bathroom off to the right corner of the room. "Bathroom's through there if you need anything." He looks at you. "Or, you can use the guest room if you feel more comfortable doing so."

"Thank you."

"Course. I'll be downstairs, okay?" He kisses you on the lips. You watch as he heads back downstairs to give you some privacy, returning your attention to the interior of his room. It's a little weird when you think that this used to be a space shared by Iseul— she'd be in here all the time, closet partially hers, bed shared with her. You brush off the thoughts and set your things aside before walking into his spotless bathroom to freshen up even though you just took a shower. San's got his own skincare, cologne and other hair products neatly organized off to the side. You complete your nightly routine for your skincare and slip into more appropriate pajamas in an effort to wind down and get cozy for bedtime. When you step out of the bathroom, you hear the tv echoing from downstairs, along with what sounds like San humming to a song. You head down the steps to see San setting up the last bits of his cute cheese and crackers display, wiping off the crumbs on his island counter. "Hey. You all good?"

"Mhm." You giggle, following him to the couch. You plop onto the open space just as San jogs back to bring over the wine he poured earlier. "What're we watching?"

"Good question." He says, flipping through the channels while sitting next to you and sipping on his wine. "Should we put on something cute or..?"

"Have you ever watched Worst Ex Ever?"

"Oh— ah, okay. So we're going the true crime route." You laugh and shake your head.

"I watched that, but I wanted to watch the other installment, Worst Roommate Ever." He nods and throws it on.

"Yeah, I'm all for it!" He kicks off the first episode and leans back against the couch, one arm draped over you from behind, giving you the opportunity to scoot closer to him.

As the episode continues, you find that San is actually really interested in these things— engaging in conversation about your thoughts, why certain events happened in the episode, motives, thought processes— you love how he carries the conversation with you. You enjoy watching the show a little too much with him that time seems to fly right on by despite the hour-long episodes. You'd laugh and giggle when San pouts and whines when he's guessed wrong, resulting in you two sharing cute, little intimate kisses in between. After you both finish your wine and go through most of his charcuterie board, you snuggle up closer to San. You've got your legs folded up on the couch, with San's hand grazing your thigh every time he dips forward for a kiss. You've gone through 2 and a half episodes before you're yawning and giving San tired eyes, so he pauses the show; hand gently rubbing at your thigh.

"Tired?" You nod.

"Kinda tired, yeah." He chuckles and shuts off the TV.

"Let's get upstairs then." You help him clean up the wine glasses and the board even though he insisted he had everything under control. But, as he steps back and takes a moment to watch you rinse out the dishes and load them into the dishwasher, he finds his heart skipping a few beats. He likes seeing this; he likes seeing you, in his kitchen, as if you were always meant to be in this home. With him. It just felt so.. natural and domestic. It's been so long since he's genuinely felt that way. You give him a small smile when you've finished, beginning to climb up the steps as San shuts off his lights and makes sure all the doors are locked. You head into his room and start to brush your teeth, San following suit next to you. You don't even think twice about the whole thing, even as you walk towards his bed with him. He pulls back the covers and you slide in, staring at the ceiling above while he cozies up to you.

"San."

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm ready to ask the next question. But, you don't have to answer if you don't want to." You turn towards him and lay on your stomach. He chuckles a bit and brushes your hair back, reassuring you to continue on. You said you'd wait for him to open up, but you couldn't help it— you were curious, and you felt like you were getting deeper into this thing with San. Maybe it was time.

"I'll answer, but I might not go into detail. How about that?" He already knows where this is going. And with you, he wants to be as transparent as possible without having to relive that part of his life again. Despite his feelings for you, he still needs to hold space for himself especially with that aspect. He doesn't wanna undo the work he's done on himself.

"Okay."

"Go for it, angel."

"What was your relationship like with her?" He lets out a breath as he rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, elbow propped up on the pillow. 

"Mm, well. I'd say it was good until she realized it wasn't me she wanted this entire time. We were one of those couples who moved quickly and unfortunately, it just didn't work out well for us at all. We ended just as quickly as we blossomed." You look at him.

"So, when did you meet and when did everything happen?"

"We met in grad school. We started going out maybe a year after we had met and been good friends. Me, her and Yunho were always together. Another year after that, we're married. Things were good even though things were moving fast. Parents liked each other, we bought this house. It felt like things were falling into place. We were doing a lot of 'future' talks, even thought about kids at one point." You continue to listen intently while San goes on, his hand tracing faint shapes on your clothed back. "But then, the postdoc years happened. We were both busy, but me especially. I hadn't realized it then, but I was putting work and the lab before anything and anyone else. I kinda can't even blame her for acting the way she did because I should've paid more attention to her as her husband."

"You can't blame yourself, San." 

"I don't." He smiles a bit. "Not anymore, at least. In general, I should've just paid more attention." He lets out a small sigh. "I knew her and Yunho had gotten close so I didn't think much of it when I started to see them hanging out more without me, or starting things without me. The busier I got, the more she leaned on Yunho. He was there for her when I wasn't. That's what she wanted and needed the most, and he was there to provide that for her. He was able to." 

"Did she ever talk to you about it?"

"She was the type who couldn't communicate well. She'd harbor everything until that one thing triggers her and makes her blow up." You nod. "Whenever I felt tension or whenever I felt her being off, I'd ask, and her response was always 'i'm just tired' or 'too many things going on with my project, it's overwhelming.' There were only a few occasions when she told me she felt like I wasn't there for her enough. I wanted to fix it, but she brushed it off and said it was fine, that this was just our life together." San shakes his head. "Not once did I ever wanna give up on her. I wanted to fix it. I tried everything to be better for her, but I was too late, I guess. I found out about her and Yunho seeing each other behind my back, I called the divorce. She tried running back a few times but we'd always end up worse than the last time. We'd yell, we'd argue. I'd be hurt all over again, re-opening that same wound over and over again. Had me thinking I had a chance to actually fix us, only to be shot down. Then later, her and Yunho eloped and got married."

"Fuck." You mutter. "Sorry— I just, I don't even know what to say."

"The worst part is that she blamed me and painted me to be the bad guy. It got so toxic, it really messed me up. She would tell people this false narrative that I always fought with her and that I was unfair. My priorities were everywhere. She told people she properly broke it off before seeing Yunho when that wasn't the case. I dunno why she said and did all those things. Maybe she was angry at me for not trying the way Yunho did? Maybe she just hated me?"

"You and Yunho are two very different people, and you did try to fix it. She just wanted to be a brat about it. She wanted to have her cake and eat it, too." You frown. "I'm sorry, San."

"For what, baby?" He laughs a bit. "It is what it is, it happened and I'm past it."

"Yeah, but still." You play with his hair. "What was Yunho doing in all of this?"

"Denying the affair even though I caught them. He kept trying to apologize but there was always a 'but.' I mean, what else can he do? That's his girl so he's going with it."

"Sick." You sigh. "Can't believe them. They don't deserve you anyway."

"You're right. They don't. I have my people by my side." He taps the tip of your nose. "Now, you."

"You do have me." You lay your head down on the pillow while looking at him.

"I do?" He teasingly leans forward, inches away from your lips.

"Mhm."

"Good. That's all I need." His eyes shift down to your lips briefly before shifting back up to you. "Is there anything else you wanna ask?"

"Hm. Do you really mean that?"

"What? That you're all I need?" You nod. "I don't lie. Ever." He chuckles, caressing your cheek sweetly.

"Just kinda hard to believe hearing it from you."

"That's okay. I mean—" He whispers, pressing light, feathery kisses to your cheeks, corner of your lips. "I can show you instead, if you'd let me?"

"Show me." You whisper back, tilting your head back to give San more access to your neck, to you. One second, he's kissing up on your neck with your hands tangled in the ends of his hair; the next, your tongues are fighting for dominance in a heated kiss. Everything feels so calculated, so full of genuine emotion and desire. San's hands travel up your shirt, massaging your breasts before letting his thumb play around with your nipples. You let out a breathy moan in between kisses, back arching in response to his touch. He carefully removes your shirt and tosses it aside, mouth now latching onto one hardened bud. His tongue flicks around, working in circular motions before pulling back with a pop— earning a louder moan to slip from your lips, goosebumps rising on your skin. He repeats the motions on the other, taking his time to lick and suck around your nipple before pulling back. 

San is quick to reattach his lips to yours; this kiss holding more fervor, more intensity, as his hand slides down to completely slide your bottoms off. You work to remove his shirt, the both of you bare in a matter of seconds.

Clothes littering his bedside.

He tries not to break the kiss, even as he crawls on top of you, fingers dipping into your heat and in between your folds to get a sense of how wet you already are. 

"Oh my god." You cry. San's cock is painfully hard, hitting your thigh while he continues to pepper your jaw, neck, with kisses.

"Can I have you, baby?" He whispers in your ear. 

"Y-yes." You can barely make out from the overwhelming desire, excitement. Thrill.

This was actually happening.

San hovers slightly to slide his nightstand drawer out, but you stop him before he can grab a condom. 

"I'm on the IUD." You shake your head. "Don't need it."

"You sure?" He asks once more for final confirmation, and you give it to him with a nod. He pauses, eyes skimming through your features again before pecking you on the lips, hand coming down to stroke his length. You drool at the sight, admiring how perfectly long and thick he is. He smirks, tapping his heavy cock against your pussy a few times. 

Just to be a fucking tease.

He starts slow— pressing his cock in between your folds, gliding up and down. 

"Mm— god." He huffs. "You feel perfect already." San watches the way your eyes roll back, mouth open as you let out small whines and whimpers at the feeling. He nudges your clit with his tip as he continues to slide up and down, earning a loud mewl to release from your lips. His other hand is now gripping your jaw to force you to maintain eye contact with him— it's not a harsh grip, but it's enough to keep you clenching around nothing. Enough to keep you writhing for more underneath him. He rubs the tip against your sensitive nub directly, another shaky moan releasing from your lips. 

"Fuck, San." You hiss, feeling the pleasure build right at your core with the way he's rubbing against you; legs cocked all the way open for him.

"So beautiful. Think I can make you cum like this, angel?" You take your hand and wrap it around his base, letting him thrust into your hand as he continues his movements between your folds. "Feels so fucking good. Can't even imagine how you'd feel wrapped around me. Hm?" He hums, head kicking back in pleasure while trying to maintain his composure. Because fuck, he can feel himself dangerously close to the edge, but he's hanging on so he can feel you— all of you.

"San, San— oh god, San." You cry repeatedly, feeling your clit ready to explode. His tip is hitting it at the right pace, hitting you in all the right spots at the right pace. You move your hips upward, grinding into his length as he continues; mouth slacked open from the overwhelming pleasure. "You're gonna make me cum." 

"Yeah? Use me. Wanna see how pretty you look when you cum." He stills and watches as you use his cock to reach your first orgasm of the night, pressing him down with the right pressure onto your heat as you grind at a quicker pace— finally toppling over the edge. His eyes glow when he watches your mouth slack open from the silent moan you release, hands coming down to ease your twitching body. "God, you're perfect." He presses feathery kisses across your jaw, chin.

Neck.

Coming right below to your sweet spot below the ear.

"Ready for me?" He asks near your ear, gently nibbling your earlobe and giving you chaste kisses on said sweet spot. You nod, giving him the green light to move further. He lines himself at your entrance before gently pushing himself in, loud moans escaping the more he buries himself to the hilt. "Baaaby." San's moan drags out as he eases himself into you. "Shit, you're so tight." He slowly pumps in and out, eyes glued to his cock as you coat it with your slickness. "Feeling okay?"

"Mhm. Feels so full." You almost whine. His hands are now pressed onto your inner thighs to make sure you keep yourself open for him. He rolls his hips into you as he hovers over your body and locks you into another kiss. He doesn't waste any time picking up his pace, the way you whine and beg, beg and whine— it drives him crazy. 

"Take me. You can do it, sweetheart." His thumb presses down on your bottom lip, tongue licking into your mouth just as he devours you in a sloppy, wet kiss. You let out a strangled, lewd moan when he starts pounding into you harder, deeper; sounds of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the walls. Pussy squelching. San's name being repeated like a song, a mantra.

The noise is nothing short of pornographic.

"Please. More. Give it to me." You plead. "Feels too good."

"Shit— Y/N, jesus fucking christ." San groans when he slowly pulls out just to the tip, creamy mess lathering the top of his dick like icing. "Gonna make me cum." He pounds back into you at an angle where he can reach all your spots. He lowers himself back down to kiss you, fucking into you while expertly rubbing away at your aching clit.

San is so, so good.

"Want you to cum in me, San."

"Yeah? You did so well for me, baby. I'll fill you up real good. Just how you want it."' After two, three more hard thrusts, you find yourself unraveling for the second time. And this time, it comes crashing down harder, your walls squeezing and constricting around him. You're digging your nails deep into San's back, moaning into his mouth as he continues to chase his high. "I'm cumming— fuck." He lets out a loud, breathy moan as he stills; milking every last bit of himself into you. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses to the surface before coming up to kiss you softly on the lips. "You okay, baby?" He smiles.

"Mhm." He presses a few more repeated, tender kisses to your lips before running off to the bathroom to help clean you up. You lay back on your tummy as San slips himself back under the sheets, sitting back against the headboard. He sighs, black glasses perched on his nose while the sheets are pulled up to his hips. You watch as he pulls his laptop and sits it on his lap before typing away, letting out a small giggle at the way he's working.

"Do you always work naked like that? Especially after what just happened?" You tease. San smirks before giving your head a playful but gentle rub.

"Only if you're around."

"You're sick." He laughs.

"Why, is it distracting?" You giggle and shake your head, shoving your face further down into the pillow to avoid eye contact.

"No." You mumble into the pillow. 

"Then, why can't you look at me?" You peek from the pillow, catching San looking straight down at you with a small smile on his face. "Gotta beg for a kiss, too?" You roll your eyes and shift upwards to give him a peck on the lips before sinking back down into the sheets. "Good girl."

"In all seriousness though, do you always have a ton of work to catch up on at night?"

"Mm, I just prefer to catch up on things at night. Sometimes, it's easier to get through it when I'm winding down." He lets out a small sigh as he continues to scroll through his inbox and reply to a few emails. He also needs to work on some more grant-related things that he's been kinda putting off. "No biggie, though." He looks at you. "Getting sleepy now?"

"A bit. Good thing I caught up on everything before leaving."

"How'd you know you'd be busy?" He laughs a bit.

"You're so annoying. Plus, I'd rather not do my homework around you."

"Why? I can be of help."

"No, Professor Choi. Leave me to my own work." You mutter as you turn the other way and shut your eyes for a little longer. San lets out a small laugh before typing away on his laptop. It isn't long before you've stopped moving and he hears your soft breathing against the pillow, causing him to smile to himself. He leans over to press a kiss against your head, whispering a quick 'goodnight beautiful' before resuming his work. He works for another 15 minutes before he feels exhaustion taking over his body. He shuts off his laptop and sets it aside, snuggling under the covers and pulling you close as he quickly drifts off to sleep with you in his arms.

When the next morning comes, you wake up from the best sleep you've had in awhile. The sheets are keeping you warm and cozy, the mattress feels perfect against your body— everything feels perfect, except there's no San and you're yearning for him already.

You've barely been awake and all you want is San.

Luckily for you, you hear his footsteps as he comes up the steps right at that moment. When he turns into the room, he's already dressed in today's attire: a cream-colored long-sleeve henley top and jeans.

"Hey." San sits on the edge of the bed and runs his soft hand up and down your bare back. You look at him lazily, threatening to fall back asleep with the way his fingers lightly run across the surface.

"Hi." You look at him sweetly and he feels his heart melt. He could get used to this.

"Going back to sleep?"

"Mm." You stretch a bit and sit up, grabbing the covers to shield your naked body. "I should probably get up and get ready to head back."

"Do you have to?" He whines.

"Yes." You giggle. "My friends are probably gonna try and bother me before class. And in case you've forgotten, sir, I have to help Sunwoo fix the 2P for our work in your lab."

"Sexy."

"You're too much." You tease, making San chuckle. "Do you have meetings in between class today?"

"Mm, yeah. A few. I have to meet with Chris and Jongho about this ongoing collaboration discussion and some last minute symposium things, then I have to meet with some donors."

"Goodluck."

"Thank you, baby." He caresses your chin before kissing your forehead. "Come downstairs when you're done getting ready."

"Okay." You stretch as San heads to his office really quickly before heading back down to the kitchen. You strut to bathroom to wash up and get ready for your day, throwing on the same outfit you had on when San picked you up. After gathering your things and fixing San's bed, you head downstairs and find that San's got a cup of coffee and a breakfast plate fixed for you. He's standing near the counter, sipping his coffee while scrolling through his phone.

"Breakfast?" He smiles at you before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in for kiss.

"Thank you."

Even though things feel too good to be true, you could definitely get used to this.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension

[freakyformula]

Knight in shining armor

Summary: Readers car breaks down on the road and her friend Max picks her up.

Writers comment: Sorry for the inactivity, I had one of my wisdom teeth pulled and developed dry socket lol rip

Warnings: Some fluff

Word count: 2k

You had spent the last week away for a holiday with your family. You lived in Monaco while your family still resided in your home country. You had barely graduated college when you decided to work abroad. Living away from your family was tough, but the week after you moved in, as you walked home, you stopped by the harbour and that's where you met him. Max Verstappen. He was handsome and had the finest smile you'd ever seen. Stating that you fell for him then and there would be an overstatement but you felt something in your heart.

You thought you recognised his face but couldn't place him. When he laid his eyes on you, on the other hand, he stopped in his tracks and studied you for a moment. Then, he walked up to you and introduced himself. And the rest was history, you instantly hit it off as friends. Max was special, you two had something that you hadn't ever felt with anyone else. When he was home from his busy job in Formula 1, you would often spend time together, even sleeping at each other's apartments, although not in the same bed. You lived in the same district as him, Fontveille, only a couple of buildings apart.

"Yeah, yeah, Max! I'll be at your place in about an hour." You laugh as you hear Max's worried voice on the other end of the phone.

"Please drive carefully." He pleads.

He'd insisted on picking you up from the airport or ordering an Uber but you politely declined.

As you grab your bags, you walk straight to the car rental. You glanced at the cars available and decided on a small black Audi. You had to admit that you were tired. The long flight had taken its toll, and you started to regret insisting on driving home but you felt like you had to prove to Max that you could take care of yourself.

You pay for the car and drag your heavy bags out. Getting them into the small car was a task itself but you managed, somehow. As you started your 20-minute drive you felt the fatigue in your body. When you made it onto the highway you felt relieved, because you were one step closer to home and Max.

You'd barely made it halfway when the car started to lose power, leaving you stranded at the edge of the highly trafficked highway. "Fuck… What do I do.." You panicked, you didn't have any numbers saved and didn't know French that well yet so calling for a tow was out of the question. You didn't really care about the car at this point, but rather about how you were supposed to make it home safely. You had to think for a few minutes, listing your options in your head. Then, as if by a miracle, the phone called. Max. Shit, what was she going to say, that she was a damsel in distress and she was stuck on the highway?

"Hi, Max." You said.

"Hi lieverd, are you home soon? I was getting worried."

"Ummm, so, I'm kinda stuck on the highway… The damn car broke down. But I'm figuring it out, I promise!" You blurt the last part out. Silence. You waited for a reply for what felt like a minute. You hear the sound of keys clinging. "I'm on my way. Y/N, please for the love of god, stay in the car and turn your location on." Max quickly and shortly replies before he hangs up.

"I…" You start before you realise that he ended the call. You did as he'd told you and looked around. The cars drove past at such fast and close proximity.

This was Max in a nutshell, always there, having all of the solutions to the world's problems up his sleeve. You felt so pathetic at the fact that you couldn't even make your way home by yourself.

15 minutes later, you see a car that you quickly identify as Max's car speed by on the other side of the highway. He quickly makes his way to your lane and parks his car behind yours.

He walks up to your broken-down car, minding the traffic. "Need a ride?" He teases.

"Shut up!" You step out, giving his side a nudge. You open the trunk where the bags were, and Max drags them to his car, placing them in the back with care.

You lock the Audi and step into Max's luxurious and grand Aston Martin. It smells like him.

"Ready to go?" Max asks and grabs the wheel.

You take his hand into yours and stare into his eyes as he turns to look at you in confusion.

"Thank you, for this." You thank him, making him huff.

"Of course Y/N, I told you I should have picked you up. I want to spend all the time I can with you before the next race weekend." You smile at him and you start the drive to Monaco and Fontveille. The whole way home, he held your hand tightly, as if he was scared to lose you. The gesture made your heart even warmer than it already was.

Max parks neatly and effortlessly in his parking house and carries your bags out, insisting on handling them. You walk behind him like a puppy, letting him lead you to his apartment.

As you walk in, you instantly toss your shoes and crash on his sofa, with him following, laying down beside you.

"Wanna order some food?" You whisper, looking at him.

"Someone's hungry, I see. What do you want, princess?"

"Something really unhealthy, preferably. Pizza, maybe?"

And with that, you ordered your food with Max, playfully arguing whether pineapple was acceptable to put on pizza.

"Do you want to do something in particular tonight, schat?"

"Anything that includes you sounds good to me." You smile at him.

"Does snuggles sound good to you? You look tired." Max says.

You nod as an answer, as you switch on the TV, leaving on the random rom-com in the background. You grab a blanket that was left on the sofa and lie down with your head in Max's lap. You both sigh contently. He slowly rubs your head, giving you a relaxing head massage.

You loved his attention to your needs, he had always treated you with respect under this last year that you'd known each other. Max was always extremely clingy with you, holding your hand, and reminding you how much he likes spending time with you. You didn't think anything of it at the time but lately you started noticing how caring he actually was. He wasn't like this with anyone else of the girls from your mutual friend group either.

As you were thinking about the signs Max gave you, he must have noticed how distant you were because he took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

"You okay?" He asks with concern in his voice.

"Yes, I am, Max." You chuckled and gave him a squeeze back.

"How was your holiday? Tell me everything." Max asks of you.

As you tell him all of the gossip and details he starts to rub your hands, creeping up your arms. And then, he pulls you into his arms, leaving a quick kiss on the top of your head.

You pulled away. You weren't against the affection, but you needed some clarity. Max was like a closed book when it came to his feelings and emotions, rarely talking about what he felt, regardless of whether it was positive or negative.

You quickly gather your thoughts and Max seems to do the same.

"W-what are we doing?" You ask him.

He looks you in the eyes and cups your cheeks, unable to keep his hands off you. You didn't protest, vice versa, you leaned into his touch. This was new but it felt right.

He sighed. "What I'm going to tell you is something I've been waiting to say for the last year or so. I should have told you sooner but I was scared you would reject me. Y/N, I really really like you… More than as a friend, and I've been trying to ignore my feelings for you but I'm simply unable to keep this to myself any longer."

You were speechless, you had your suspicions but it still came as a surprise.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way about me, but I couldn't keep it in." He continues.

"Max…" You break the eye contact. "I like you too, I mean… A lot."

Max eyes warm up with joy, and he gives you the warmest smile you'd ever seen. His smile reached all the way up to his eyes, and you thought it was the most adorable thing you'd ever seen.

You wake up in a bed. The sheets smell fresh, like citrus, and Max's cologne. You turn around, rubbing your eyes, but find no one on the other side of the bed. You find your way downstairs, to the living room and kitchen. Max is standing at the stove with his back turned to you. What is he possibly doing, you think. It's common knowledge that Max sucks at cooking.

You sit down at the kitchen island, getting lost in his beauty. It's quiet, the only exception being Max's swear words as he manages to burn himself and whatever is in the pan. After a while, he breaks the silence, "You know, Y/N, it's not polite to stare." He says as he turns around to face you.

You were embarrassed and sat there stuttering, not quite knowing what to say. "I-I-I swear I wasn't!"

Max laughs, "Uh huh..." And scoops two eggs onto each plate. One for you and one for himself. "Thank you, Max, this is too much..." You say, still blushing. He walks around the island and takes a seat next to you, giving your temple a light kiss while holding his arm around you.

"No, Y/N. This is barely enough." He smiles.

"So... What happened last night?" You ask. You really didn't remember, you must've dozed off.

"We talked about your holiday, and what happened last night, you know, you ending up on the road, and you fell asleep. I carried you to my bed, and I slept on the sofa. Nothing happened, by the way." He clarifies, holding his hands up. You look at him, and you can't make out if you were shocked or happy, or something else. One thing you knew for sure though, you were thankful for him. As he gets up again to get some juice and bread, you walk up to him, not saying anything. "Y/N, what's wrong?" He asks, worried.

You're lost in his eyes, and stand there like a fool. Just studying his beautiful stance. You had no idea what got into you, but you fall into his arms, holding him tightly, not letting go.

Max laughs nervously, "What are you doing?" While hugging you back, or rather squeezing you. You were unable to even breathe while he was holding you. You stay like that for what feels like forever, both of you fusing together, not being able to let go, not wanting to let go.

When you finally part, you're both out of breath from holding each other so hard. "Shall we?" Max asks, pointing to the eggs. As you eat, you don't say anything, neither does Max. You're processing what just happened and Max seems to do the same. You didn't regret hugging him, on the contrary, you were happy with yourself.

"I think I love you, Y/N." Max admits while washing the two plates, not daring to look at you.

Hearing the words, you freeze. You know exactly what to say, but the words don't come out. Max finally turns around to face you, and you're sat with the blankest of expressions, further worrying him. "Y/N?" He walks up to you.

"I... I think I love you too?" You ask yourself, already knowing the answer. You did love him, there was no question. You'd always loved him.

Upon hearing your words, Max lets out a sigh of relief, while walking up to you, and embracing you.

"Thank fuck." He sighs. You can feel him almost trembling, or rather vibrating from nervousness. His grip on you tightens, pulling you closer, before he lets you out of his grip. "Let me rephrase that, I don't think I love you, I love you."

[hiraethwrote]

A TICKET IN YOUR NAME

pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : the charity auction you're in charge of is closing in, and there's still a ticket reserved in his name. your executives are on your neck about wanting a clear answer if the pro player will be able to attend - with no regards for the fact that you broke up three months ago cw : pro player!kageyama, break up, post-timeskip, reader wears a dress, angst, bittersweet, heavy yearning, regret, slight profanity, lowkey self indulgent lol, no use of y/n word count : 5.8k

“Kageyama? Hey, it’s me.”

A ray of cold ran down his spine as your all too familiar voice rang in his ear, tearing painfully at his heart from the first syllable. God, how he had missed those melodic vibrations he now only heard in his dreams.

When the unknown number popped up on his phone screen, his first instinct was to let it go straight to voicemail. But for whatever reason, the voice in the back of his mind told him he should pick it up — he definitely didn’t expect to be greeted with the unforgettable tone of your voice, causing his heart to bang against its cage.

And you had called him Kageyama, instantly pulling out the amateur stitching he had applied to the tears in his heart.

It made him feel a little sick, his last name sounding foreign on your tongue. You never did that, because he hadn’t allowed it. When it came to you, he wanted to be close, intimate, especially since distance came so naturally to all of his relationships. And one thing that separated you from the rest, you called him Tobio.

Or you used to.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything-“

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “No, you’re good.”

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase-“ the sentence came to an abrupt halt when he swore he heard you take a sharp breath, as if you had to contain deep emotions that threatened to overtake your sense of calm. “Management keep bugging me about your ticket for the charity auction.”

“Right,” he said it so quietly he wasn’t entirely sure the microphone picked it up.

“I don’t even know if you’re in town then,” lie — a complete and utter fabrication to try and convince him, but also yourself, that you weren’t still hung up on the past — like you didn’t have his schedule for the next seven months logged into your phone, knowing very well he was in fact still available that evening. “But the ticket is still reserved in your name, and I promised my executives I would provide them with a clear answer if you were attending or not.” Again you cut yourself off, a shaky breath traveling the line, something he had learned long ago was a clear indicator that you were fighting back tears. “Told them I’d have an answer by the end of the week.”

Of course he hadn’t forgotten about the auction — you had stressed about it for months even before you broke up, being in charge of putting the whole event together. The red circle in his calendar marking the date kept coming closer and closer, and he had wondered if you would reach out to ask about it — now he had his answer.

“I’m in town,” he muttered simply, closing his eyes as he just waited for your voice to return.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you into attending or anything. If it’ll make you uncomfortable, I’m sure I’ll figure something out-“

“It won’t make me uncomfortable.” He was a little surprised by how soft his voice came out, but it was true — he would never be uncomfortable around you. “Next Saturday, right?”

“You remembered?”

“Got it circled.”

“Figured.” Silence swallowed the conversation, and it felt so unnatural. It was only with you he was able to engage in a conversation that flowed like a peaceful stream. He had been deprived of that privilege for so long, and his strangling feelings were slowly piling up inside him, weighing heavy on his heart.

He could picture you so clearly, down to the smallest detail. Right now you were probably sat behind your desk in your office, resting your forehead in the palm of your hand. And if he was still able to interpret your behaviour correctly, simply based on your tone, he suspected there were salty pools welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over any second.

At this hour, you were probably left alone in the company building, everyone else having gone home already. And he pictured you were longing to go home too, so you could change out of the boring corporate attire he knew you hated with a fiery passion. The second you were to set foot inside your apartment, you would walk straight for your closet to put on your favourite slacks — maybe, if you hadn’t thrown them out already, you would wear his old hoodie as well. “They feel like home,” you always used to say before melting into the piece of clothing that was too big for you.

It was most likely a naive fantasy, but Tobio liked to toy with the image nonetheless.

You stole his attention from his spiralling when you sighed, shifting the entire tension of the conversation into something more serious, deprived from emotion. “Black tie event. Prepare for press, the company won’t be shy about any notable names. Pro player Kageyama Tobio is one of those names. Just let me know where you’re staying, and we’ll send a car to take you to the location.”

The business voice had taken the phone call hostage, barely recognising the voice on the other end of the line. The only time you used it for not work related occasions was when you were mad at him...

“Great, thank you.”

A beat of silence. “Again, sorry to bother you. I know it’s late.”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t… bother me.”

It felt awkward now. The ice was broken, the no-contact had failed, and now neither of you wanted to let go despite not being able to find any words to feed the conversation.

For a split second Tobio was overcome with courage, having to clear his throat before he opened his mouth, “hey, how are you-“

“I’ll see you next Saturday.” His attempt was shut down instantly, rushing to hang up after blurting out your goodbyes.

Your phone hit the desk with an obnoxious rattle before your hands came flying to cover your face, aggressive sobs tumbling past your lips.

Even though you missed him, his voice, the comfort he provided, you just did not have the strength it required to indulge in casual conversation with him. It hurt too much.

Time heals all wounds — what a load of bullshit, because here you sat, three months after the most earth shattering heartbreak you had ever experienced and it still served as an aching gash in your life.

Since that horrid night, you had delved head first into work to distract yourself as best as you could. It had been a privilege to be able to fill your time so you could ignore dealing with the issue at hand — a privilege you had taken for granted as your sobs filled the vacant space of your lonely office.

In less than two weeks, you would be forced to look him in the eyes again. You had to paint your face with a smile, smother your sorrows for the sake of the company as he was expected to stay at your side for the evening.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to pull this one ashore after all.

As promised, a fancy black car had pulled up exactly at the time you had texted him.

The entire car ride was spent in a one sided conversation, where the driver tried to initiate polite small talk only to be met with quiet sounds that barely confirmed Tobio was even listening.

He was too busy trying to plant his feet back on the ground, nerves traveling his body from head to toe. Every ten seconds he tilted his head to check his phone just in case you had sent him any further information about tonight that he needed to be aware of. He was left disappointed every time when there never appeared a notification with your name attached.

Sooner rather than later, flashing lights surrounded the car and he knew they had reached the destination.

This was a part of the job he had never gotten used to, and some part of him would probably always struggle with the attention that came with his career path.

Reluctantly stepping out of the car, he braced himself for the overwhelming noice of the press shouting to grab is attention.

It was only so much his PR training sufficed. He would wave awkwardly, try to smile and present himself as nicely as possible so his managers wouldn’t be on his neck about the bad impression he’d given off — but no amount of training was able to calm his nerves.

Only you did that.

Whenever he had to make public appearances, you were the one to help his feet back on the ground and remind him it wasn’t scary. You would lace your fingers with his, gently press your body against his side with such grace. And you would look at him, your eyes whispering quiet affirmations; you’re doing great, okay? I’m with you every step of the way.

Deprived of your safety, he was overthinking every move he did. Was it obvious how fake the small tilt of his lips were? Who was he kidding, they probably didn’t even see what was his attempt at a smile. Was the outfit okay? Had he picked out the wrong outfit, showing up underdressed to your special night? No, he had purposely chosen a safe option, one he knew you liked. Was his steps towards the entrance too slow? No wait, shit- now he was walking too fast.

He couldn’t be too sure he had been able to pull off the image his managers wanted, but he had at least gotten himself through the doors of the venue.

He had no time to react before he was approached by a neatly dressed individual with a clipboard in her hands. “Mr. Kageyama? Follow me.”

Croaking a quiet ‘okay’, Tobio didn’t know what else to do than do as she said, eventually ending up in a secluded, yet spacious hallway. There were only a few people scattered about, all seemingly rather busy.

Then his eyes landed on a familiar frame that he would recognise any time and any place, forever burned into his memory. Your bare back facing him, phone to your ear as frustration pulled your shoulders high.

Everything else seemed to disappear when he heard your voice, “no, no, it’s supposed to be four-“ you spun around, and the sentence died instantly once your eyes automatically locked with his.

He fell for the temptation, trying to be as subtle as possible as he let his eyes travel you up and down. You were breathtaking, all dolled up in a floor length, satin gown in deep maroon. There was a shy slit in your skirt, and your exposed arms were decorated with the prettiest jewlery.

But what had his breath catch in his throat was the familiar pendant resting right on the centre of your chest — the dainty necklace he recognised as his gift for you for your first anniversary.

“Mr. Kageyama, as requested,” the stranger said before hurrying away to attend other tasks.

“Just… I trust you’ll be able you fix it,” you spoke softly into the phone before hanging up, never breaking eye contact.

He swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed the moment he had seen you again, “hey.”

“Hi,” you said weakly, your nerves driving you to pull at your own fingers. The action captured his eyes which instantly had you hide your hands behind your back. You knew all too well what was running through his mind at the moment, having a nearly primal desire to interrupt it.

One could cut the tension with a knife, thick and suffocating, with so many lingering feelings resting in the prolonged eye contact.

You reached within yourself, closing your eyes for a second to force away your uneasiness. Once they opened, and met his again, all evidence of previous sentiments were gone and replaced with business. Your shoulders lowered slightly, arms moving in front of you again and your entire stance straightening with a newfound sense of confidence.

“Great! You picked a good outfit,” was the nicest compliment you were able to pay him without completely succumbing to the sadness that was walking a fine line, ready to overtake you at any second. “It’s perfect for the evening.”

He tilted his head forward bashfully to hide the small smirk of amusement that formed at his lips because he knew you were being modest in your observations. It wasn’t unintentional that he’d put on the all black, three piece suit you had helped him purchase when he was first signed.

It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but he remembered how you had gladly joined him when he was in such a desperate need for a formal wear he could pull out on special occasions. He would never forget how your lips had parted and eyes widened when he came out in that suit, unable to peer your eyes off of him. He’d watched as you had actively swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding in approval, rather enthusiastically.

“Glad to hear it,” he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You look great, by the way. But that’s no surprise.”

For a split second your front wavered with a weak smile. You wouldn’t allow the fragility to settle — you could not afford that tonight, of all nights.

You spun on your heel, walking down the hall in the opposite direction. Tobio didn’t hesitate to follow.

“They’re opening the doors for the other guests very soon, and in roughly twenty minutes I have to go up on stage to welcome everyone. The auction will start shortly after that.” You stopped abruptly outside a huge door, nearly causing him to crash into you. Resting your hand on the handle, he watched how it clenched around the metal. “I’ll find you after. You’re technically still my da-… my plus one.”

Without sparing him another look, you simply opened the door and entered the ballroom, leaving the word ‘date’ hang unfinished in the air.

How had the two of you gotten to this point?

His future used to be so clear — he saw his entire life headed in a direction he had never dared to dream of, based on the fear of its unlikelihood. You brought safety and comfort to his life, which had grown somewhat turbulent after garnering some fame within the world of athletes — no matter how things turned out, it would be okay, because he still had you.

But now he had to control how he didn’t let his gaze linger for too long, because it could be crossing a boundary that previously didn’t exist. He had to hold his tongue so he didn’t bombard you with all the affection he still had for you, because that wasn’t his job anymore.

Slowly but surely, the ballroom started to fill up with an assortment of characters, all ready to spend their money on the extravagant auction. Tobio found himself standing awkwardly in the same spot you left him, along the outskirts of the growing crowd, feeling beyond uncomfortable.

And though he knew he should mingle, all he was able to do was let his eyes follow you when you eventually made your way onto the stage. The music came to a slow stop, the crowd calmed down and everyone’s eyes were on you.

To everyone else, you probably seemed in control of yourself, confident even — but Tobio was still able to read you like a book, rarely having seen you as nervous as right now. Your smile was bright, but very clearly forced as your eyes roamed the audience frantically.

Suddenly you looked at him, meeting his eyes that were always so soft — a feature that somehow always caught you a little by surprise. He was often so stoic, his eyebrows always just slightly tilted in a frown. But his eyes betrayed his cold exterior, conveying a tenderness you had never really seen in anyone else.

With the familiar safety of his gaze, your breathing evened out and shoulders relaxed, which he noticed. He flashed you a small smile before giving you a reassuring nod, telling you there was nothing to be scared of — because after everything, he would still catch you if you were to fall.

Exhaling deeply, you started the welcome speech, your smile now genuine. He followed every single word that fell from your lips with immense professionalism, and every once in a while when your eyes found him in order to ground yourself, his heart would skip a beat.

“Once again, thank you all for attending and I hope you all enjoy the evening.” The crowd erupted into polite applause while you walked down from the stage gracefully.

“You did great,” Tobio breathed as you had joined him again.

“Thank god,” you sighed. “That speech has kept me awake all week.”

“No, it was good. Very professional.” You turned to look at him, a beautiful smile painting your lips as old habits steered your hand for his face.

When you realised what you were about to do, your face fell, hand freezing inches before making contact with his cheek. In all the stress of being up on that stage with everyone’s eyes glued on you, you had forgotten the nerves caused by your ex boyfriend.

It had just come so naturally to you, to caress his cheek. It was a gesture you always did whenever he would come with one of his simple compliments.

“Sorry,” you whispered, quickly retracting your hand.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he stuttered sadly. Tobio had held his breath from the moment he’d noticed your hand raise from your side.

He had frozen still once he realised what was about to happen in hopes that if he didn’t move, you would continue in your trance and he’d eventually feel your flesh pressed against his face. He’d been deprived of the sensation for so long, and he was left disappointed when the feeling never arrived.

Was this how the evening was going to play out? Standing beside each other for hours in an awkward and unnatural silence, both too scared to do anything in fear of offending the other?

Tobio wanted to say something, but small talk had never been his strong suit — that was always your area of expertise, fill the void with chatter so no one was left feeling uncomfortable.

“You planning to bid on anything?” It was as if you had been able to read his mind, saving him from his ever spiralling mind.

“No, not really,” he said simply. “You?”

He turned to look at you, feeling a sense of relief as you let out a small snicker, observing how the auction was about to start.

“I may be in charge of this entire thing, but that doesn’t mean I have the money to get any of the things they’ve put up,” you sighed. “That trip to the Maldives looking really good right now, though.”

For a split second, Tobio heavily considered putting all his money on that trip for you. He imagined being able to walk beside you along the crystal blue shores of the Maldives, peace and relaxation washing over you to the point where you would finally have the time to take proper breaths.

But it was but a mere dream, only a reality in the depths of his mind where he was allowed to fantasise that you were still his.

For the next three hours, you stood side by side as you witnessed all the luxuries items being auctioned off one by one. Every once in a while you would shoot a casual comment in hopes it would lighten the looming cloud that hung over you — it remained persistent.

It didn’t go unnoticed, how the tension in your shoulders never completely evaporated. Even when your bosses came to shower you with praise for all the hard work you’d done, or when you were updated on the insane sum of money that would be donated, your shoulders remained permanently raised half an inch.

He could only suspect it was his presence that caused the strain. Maybe it had been a bad idea of him to attend.

In hindsight he could see how it was nothing short of selfish — because what other reason for attending would he have than only wanting to see you again? He didn’t serve any more purpose than decoration. His name wasn’t even among the most noticeable, so it wasn’t like he brought any more traction to the event than it already had.

Maybe it would be best if he just bolted, let you be able to enjoy what could be considered your evening. You should be proud, celebrate the success of your hard work.

As the auction had slowly evolved into a party, several pairs had decided to move along to the beautiful rhythm that filled the ballroom. Tobio would shoot shy glances towards you, spotting how you were staring longingly at the dance floor.

“You want to dance?”

“What?”

Shit — he hadn’t meant to blurt it out. He genuinely thought the question simply floated in his mind to entertain his fantasy. Seemed like his subconscious had more power than he thought when the words slipped past his lips.

And now you were stood ogling him in shock, arms wrapped around yourself as you were visibly trying to comprehend his question.

He cleared his throat, trying to find the confidence he used to have with you once upon a time. “Would you like to dance?” He asked again, voice steadier than he would have anticipated.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you considered his request. “Okay,” you whispered, his heart skipping a beat.

This was not the time to let his confidence waver, offering his elbow like a gentleman, holding his breath as he waited for you to hook your arm with his.

Stood in the middle of the dance floor facing each other, you tried to calm your rapid breathing as you waited for him to take the lead.

With slight hesitation you placed your right hand on his shoulder. And it seemed like he picked up on the reluctance in your movements, because his right hand grabbed a hold of yours to have it stretched out — reminding you how big they were compared to yours.

But when you felt his left hand make contact with your bare back, you couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath, igniting memories you had so sorely tried to forget.

In the dead of night, when it seemed like the two of you were the only people left in the world, he would place his lips tenderly along your back, pulling soft giggles from you as his breath tickled you when it brushed against your skin.

And now his warm hand was resting within the ghost of those kisses, reminding you not only of the private and intimate moments shared together, but also just how gentle he was with you.

To say Tobio was a little rough around the edges was an understatement. He could definitely be crass, tone bordering on cruel when talking to someone, despite having no ill intentions whatsoever. His face was nearly permanently stamped with a frown, seemingly always in a bad mood to the untrained eye.

The Tobio people saw on court was also ruthless. Always giving it his all, whether if it was his calculated sets or his powerful serves — he never showed his opponents mercy.

But the second a match was over, and he was reunited with you, all edge seemed to disappear. Same strong hands that had recently performed fiercely on the court, would now cup your face with utmost care while you shied away from prying eyes.

Same tender touch was pressed lovingly against your back in this very moment — and it felt so safe. The security he always supplied in his embrace came to show so easily. Taking care of you was second nature to him, even now after everything.

“Never known you to be a dancer,” you said carefully as he started to take the lead, moving surprisingly graciously along to the music.

“I’m full of surprises,” he dared to joke with the faintest smirk.

“Never known you to be a guy of surprises either,” you quipped, having his smirk stretch a little wider.

He turned to scan the other couples, leaving you to just admire him.

He really was beautiful, and he didn’t even seem to be the slightest bit aware of the fact. When going about his day, he never brought attention to himself so it was easy to forget — until it struck you like lightning from clear skies, suddenly and all at once.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight,” he breathed, shifting his attention back to your face. It caught you off guard, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, scared he caught you in your admiration.

“You really think so?”

“Definitely. I’m really impressed.” Again you had his heart skip a beat, when for the first time this evening, you flashed him a wide and genuine grin.

“Thank you.”

“Then again-“ he began, a little scared to continue when you raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “You’ve always been impressive.”

Finally your stress released. Your shoulders lowered and you relaxed in his arms, a softness in your features he had been waiting to reunite with.

This was Tobio — the person you had shared countless conversations about all and nothing with, who knew you inside out. There wasn’t any reason for it to be uncomfortable. Why not make the best out of the situation?

“Volleyball’s going great, I hear,” you breathed, a newfound, though a little unsteady, contentment in your voice.

He nodded slowly, “yeah, you could say that,” a shameless smile of pride curling his lips upwards.

“Bet you can see the end of the road to being the best, now?”

“Staring to spot it,” he mused, acting a lot more humble than you were used to.

“Only Oikawa ahead of you now. Heard he’s still considered to be a remarkable setter-“

“Oh, shut up,” he said with a roll of the eyes, your words trailing into soft giggles.

“You know I’m just kidding. I’ve known you to be the best all along,” you said softly, slowly melting into his embrace more and more by the second.

And by the way he was looking at you right now, with a sense of safety that would always make you feel some sort of belonging, no matter what, you’d never be entirely lost when with Tobio.

It seemed like he felt it too. So many shared moments was coming back to him when being allowed to gaze into your eyes again, especially after all this time — he was scared he might end up spiralling if he let himself sink too deep in the familiar comfort of you.

You couldn’t help but flinch when he broke the eye contact, clearing his throat when he once again observed the surrounding crowd. “Do you think…”

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think they’ll write about this?” He scoffed, nodding in the direction of the not so subtle press who had very clearly been snapping pictures of you.

You shrugged. “I’m not worried,” you breathed, “we were never really public enough to be prolific, were we?”

The soft sound of your nervous chuckle drew his attention right back to you. He shouldn’t be too surprised that something as simple as the sound of your laugh and the twinkle in your eye could threaten to have him fall back in again — he knew he was weak. He felt it every day, with every beat of his heart, how it pulled at him to return to you.

You were dangerous that way, both to him and yourself. Your eyes would always betray you when they were staring at him, your devotion clear as day. It was always simmering just below the surface no matter how far apart you were.

“Besides, I mean, I am really just some nobody working behind the scenes in some big company. I’m no one really cares about-“

A frustrate groan shot past his teeth, spotting how his eyebrows narrowed in the angle he so often sported. “You’ve never been a nobody.” He drew a breath, a distinctly sharp one, his lips drawing in a thin line as he churned what words to say next. “You’re more than a nobody. You’re more than a somebody. You matter. You’re the only one who matters.” His voice was stern, but surprisingly calm — which only made it worse.

You couldn’t wrap your head around how he managed to serve such insanely deep and powerful declaration as it was nothing. It was like he had no idea what kind of weight his words carried, no regard for what impact it might have on you.

And there was a very simple explanation to that — because to him it was nothing. It was just the truth, which always came easy to him.

He noticed the inner corners of your eyebrows tighten, painting your face with sorrow as the corner of your lips drooped south.

“There were reasons, right? Reasons we broke up?” He asked carefully. As his volume lowered, he tilted his head forward, bringing him so painfully close.

Your sad eyes flittered between his, his crystal pools of blue that always enforced the intensity of his messages, and you began to think.

When you could feel his love still pulsating off of him, and his slightly calloused thumb sending sparks throughout your body as it subconsciously moved back and forth in soft swipes along your spine, it was hard to remember any one reason for why things ended at all.

“Yeah,” you sighed solemnly, nodding slowly, “yeah, I’m sure there was.”

The deep breath he took brushed against your face, and you had to swallow the little sob that harboured deep in your throat. “Do you miss it?”

You instantly knew what he really asked — did you miss him — the real meaning wasn’t hard to deduce, Tobio had always been horrible at hiding his real intentions.

“Sure, some days more than others,” your voice cracked slightly. It was only for a faint second, but it flashed across his face how it wasn’t necessarily the answer he wanted, a hint of anger threatening to scrunch his face. But it evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s not easy, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“You see right through me, huh?” It sounded as he was attempting to pull the mood up, but when there was no rise in his tone nor an optimistic twitch in his expression, he failed miserably.

“Well, still know you better than I know myself.”

Silence fell between you, still letting the safety of his arms guide you along to the symphonies that filled the ballroom. You were so close to falling in, completely surrender to the serenity you knew would come over you if you just gave in.

“You know, if there was something I did, I am really sor-“

“Can we pretend?” You cut him off. “Just for tonight, can we just forget everything and pretend?”

His lips parted in surprise. Your antsy nerves creeped back into your body when he slowly pulled back, certain he would turn the request down.

And he knew he should. In a matter of seconds, the healing you’d both gone through up until this point would be undone. But he wasn’t strong enough, especially after having been at war with that antagonising devil on his shoulder all night. With your request egging it on, he was going to let it win.

“Okay,” he whispered, straightening his posture.

With the blink of an eye, you had turned it all off. A smile adorned your lips before simply inching closer to rest your cheek against his chest, reunited with the sound of his heartbeat that you were so used to falling asleep too.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him rest his cheek on the crown of your head, his limbs squeezing you just a little tighter, as if it was somehow going to prevent you from slipping away when the evening came to a close.

You had expected it to pick up its pace, beat like a hummingbird — but it was steady.

Maybe his heart was finally beating steady, after stuttering in his chest for months, lost as it tried to find back to its purpose. And now it had been reunited with it, instantly recognising the euphoria and quickly settling into its supposed rhythm.

Bittersweet — that was how it felt. You were allowing yourself to completely bask in the comfort of Tobio. You hadn’t felt such contentment and rest since the split, and it felt nice to breathe calmly for once.

But he was still your ex, and it would come to an end eventually, again going your separate ways.

Those were sorrows for tomorrow.

You allowed yourself to dance with him, your tears quietly wetting the fabric of his jacket until the evening came to an end.

Looming in the shadow of the auctions success was a sight no one had expected to see.

She’s the cute face behind the whole event, having worked countless hours to pull it all together for it to turn out the way it did, and it’s safe to assume she is probably thrilled with the sum they were able to rake in for the sake of a good cause.

However, you’re probably reading her name and finding it awfully familiar — but you can’t seem to understand why; there’s no reason for you to know the name of some random employee at a big shot company. The name probably rings a bell because she is better known as the ex girlfriend of star player Kageyama Tobio, seemingly home in Japan for a visit. Was the reason for his unexpected return solely to attend the big evening of a special ex-someone?

During their time together, they rarely made headlines as they were notorious for keeping their relationship private. But once the handsome Ali Roma setter became available, people were quick to show their interest.

Though we were not lucky enough to be of attendance at the charity auction, we’ve gotten our hands on exclusive pictures from the night. Not only were they spotted together for the majority of the evening, these photos show they didn’t seem shy when sharing a rather intimate moment on the dance floor.

One can start to speculate if the corporate sweetheart has once again swooned the sought after Kageyama.

Fret not, because we got a rare statement from the woman of the hour, and she says : “I have nothing but respect and adoration for Kageyama, but-“

Tobio shut the magazine, unable to finish the article.

tags : @hiraethwa ﾉ @shouyuus (hope you dont mind i added you love)

an : dedicated to tobio nation <3 lets go with the angst, it is obvi what i love. idk if you guys picked it up, but to me it's sooooo clear where my writers block started to disappear lol comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[fanboyoff1]

Landoscar College Fic (2.4k words)

Inspired by this post. It was supposed to be a little drabble but it spiraled

@complementaryhalves Hope I did it justice. It’s not really a meet-cute since they both know of each other (or maybe that counts, idk how meet-cutes work) but I tried my best lol

Oscar really needs to set a second alarm.

He’s several months into college, so you’d think he’d have figured out a good sleep schedule by then. Unfortunately, that has not happened, and Oscar wakes up to sun on his face.

“Ughhh,” he groans, rolling over and pulling his sheets up over his head. It takes him a few seconds to realize there’s no annoying beeping that usually greets him in the morning.

“Shit.” He grabs his phone from the bedside table and jolts up when he reads 8:25 on his lockscreen. “Shitshitshit.” 

He tosses his sheets to the side, the old mattress creaking loudly as he stands, rushing because his bus is literally about to leave. Why did he sign up for early classes? Why, why, why? Even his professor Mr. Webber told him it was a bad idea once he’d heard about it, but he’d insisted that it would be fine.

Right now, it’s definitely not fine though. He brushes his teeth at lightning-speed in the communal bathroom, and throws on a navy blue sweatshirt and pants, nearly forgetting his watch. He’ll get a bagel or something for breakfast at school.

Thankfully, he likes to pack his backpack the day before, so all he has to do is put it over his shoulders, rushing down the stairs and out the door into the parking lot to see… His bus rolling away down the road without him.

Oscar drops his hands down from his backpack straps to his side in defeat. He curses the ground and his stupid clock under his breath, kicking at a loose rock. What is he gonna do now?

Well, he could call Logan, ask if he can give him a ride. Or maybe Charles drove today? He glances across the parking lot, but there are around three other cars that look just like Charles’, so that won’t be very helpful.

He’s about to pull his phone out when he hears a car pull out of the lot, wheels making a grainy sound against the asphalt. Oscar quickly backs away from the middle of the road and goes back to his quiet crisis.

“Hey, you need a ride?”

Oscar looks up to see the car that had been leaving stopped in front of him. The person behind the voice is a handsome guy with dark curly hair and tan skin, sitting behind the wheel with one hand dangling out the window. There’s a small flicker of recognition in Oscar’s brain, he must have seen the boy around campus before.

The driver seems to have taken Oscar’s silence as hesitancy, starting to talk again. “I-um, I saw your bus fuck off into the distance, and I figured you could use some help. I live right over there.” He points vaguely to another one of the student campus buildings behind them.

Oscar opens his mouth to politely decline immediately, but stops himself. Does he really for certain have another way to get to school? He remembers how he knows this guy now, he’s friends with Charles. Anyone who’s friends with Charles gets an automatic thumbs up from him, but being in a car with them…

“Yeah, I could use a ride,” he finds himself saying, not totally sure the words are coming from his mouth. The curly haired guy seems equally surprised, but masks it quickly. “O-okay. Just come over to the passenger seat.”

Oscar walks out in front of the car, and opens the door. Any move to sit down is paused by the fact that there’s a football in the seat. The boy turns when Oscar opens the door, looking through his eyelashes at him, and his eyes are really blue from up close. A bit of green too- okay, stop analyzing his eyes, he tells himself.

The driver- Oscar decides to coin him Car Guy- notices Oscar’s predicament and grabs the football, promptly chucking it into the backseat and patting the now empty seat for Oscar, who sits.

He twists his body to face the back of the car. “Do you think you damaged anything with that throw?” he asks, trying to find the football amongst the clutter of the car. There’s a few random clothes, a cardboard box on the right.

“Eh, it’s fine,” Car Guy says with a wave of his hand. Oscar turns back to the front, buckling up. Car Guy notices what he’s doing and buckles up himself with a guilty smile. Oh God, Oscar’s totally going to die.

“Just college campus, I assume?” Car Guy asks, adjusting his rear-view mirror that has a car freshener and a necklace hanging from it. The necklace has a big 4 hanging by the end. 

“Yeah,” Oscar sets his backpack down between his legs, and braces when Car Guy starts to drive away. However, he actually seems like an okay driver, despite that seatbelt incident that may haunt Oscar’s nightmares. 

After a few streets, he chills out enough to get a proper look at who’s driving him. He has a Texas Bulls shirt on, a hoodie under it, and to top it all off, a green letterman jacket with the number 4 on it. Huh. 4 again. Maybe the number 4 has some kind of significance to him. 

He’s really pretty as well, especially up close. His long lashes, his freckles, his hair that looks like it's attempting to be a mullet. 

Don’t you dare fall for a jock Oscar, he tells himself. Because that’s what he has to be, right? He has a Bulls shirt, a sporty jacket, and a freaking football in the passenger seat. There’s nothing else he could be.

And he’s still terrified about a stranger driving him somewhere, pretty or not. He takes out his phone and pulls up his messages, finding his last conversation with Dad 2.0 (an inside joke the two of them have.) He frantically texts Charles, asking, ‘Is curly haired boy a serial killer??’

A moment later, he gets a response back, a lot of question marks. Oscar sighs, running his hand through his hair and trying not to let his thoughts spiral into how he may or may not be getting kidnapped.

# # #

Lando’s trying to be cool. He really is. But Oscar’s in his car. He wants to squeal and kick his feet and giggle.

He’s had a crush on the Australian-born boy for a while now, ever since he’d seen him actually. They’d just been passing by each other while walking across campus, but it felt like a world-changing event for Lando (okay, he may be overreacting just a little, but have you seen the man?!)

Once he learned that Oscar was friends with Charles, he came out to his friend as bi and proceeded to spend his entire time with Charles ranting about how pretty Oscar was, or what Oscar was wearing today, or could he get some pictures of Oscar pretty-please?

Needless to say, the Monegasque was tired of his pining fairly quickly. “I don’t understand why you do not just talk to him,” he’d said one day during their lunch break.

“I can’t just talk to him, Charles.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird!”

“How? It’s just talking,” Charles had retorted, biting into his protein bar. “You can say it’s because you are both friends with me or something. There are ways.”

“Well, it- it’s complicated.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a good argument for that Charles, but just know that you’re wrong.”

So Lando had just watched Oscar from a distance (not in a creepy way or anything, just in an adoration way.) Until this morning, when he saw Oscar miss the bus, which was admittedly a little funny, he’d gotten the courage to ask if he wanted a ride. He hadn’t been expecting him to say yes, but he was ecstatic that he had.

Now they’re in the car together, and Lando’s tongue feels like lead whenever he attempts to make small talk. Oscar’s aggressively texting someone, and Lando has had to stop himself multiple times from looking at Oscar instead of the road.

Oscar sighs, running his hand through his swoopy hair. Now’s his chance. “Everything okay?” he asks, drumming a finger against the steering wheel as he waits behind a stop sign.

“Hmm?” Oscar looks up, raising his eyebrows, and Lando might die on the spot. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just texting a friend. You know Charles, right?”

“Leclerc?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I was gonna ask him to drive back and pick me up but… Well I don’t know if you know this, but Charles likes to jog to school sometimes. I wasn’t sure if he had today or not.”

Lando barely processes what he’s said, which feels extremely rude even in his head. But Oscar’s smiling and it looks so cute, and the way his voice changes as he’s trying to stifle a laugh is addicting. “Oh, I think I’ve heard him talk about jogging to class sometimes. One time he texted me at like 6 am, I was so confused when he told me he was at school already.”

Oscar laughs again, and Lando tries to stop the butterflies growing in his stomach. “Ha, yeah, he’s like that. I think he just likes to be early.”

“I know, but 6 am??” 

“I’m not defending him!” Oscar says, throwing his hands in the air, the two of them laughing together. Lando feels joy spread through his chest, because Oscar seems more comfortable, he’s smiling and laughing and blushing and he looks so cute.

“Oh my gosh, I have this selfie of Charles he sent to me when he was on a run,” Oscar turns on his phone and started to scroll through his photos, eyebrows furrowed in determination. His hair droops down on his face, and Lando fights the urge to reach out and push it back.

After a minute or so, Oscar bursts out laughing. “Did you find it?” Lando asks. Oscar nods, shoulders shaking, and holds his phone out for Lando to see. It's perfect timing, they're stopped at a red light, so Lando turns his head to inspect the picture.

Charles has a headband and glasses on with no shirt. He must have been running when he took the picture, everything’s blurry and the background is just a mass of green and gray. The most noticeable thing is his face. He’s trying to wink, but it’s more like a squint, and his eyebrows are high up on his forehead. He looks partially like he ate something sour, and like he’s getting chased by a wild animal.

Lando snorts, and Oscar pulls the phone back. “I know right? Apparently, he took the photo and sent it to me without checking what it looked like, so now I have this treasure saved in my phone forever.”

# # #

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, and Oscar regrets thinking Car Guy was someone scary or a jerk. He seems really sweet and funny. And he’s attractive. But that’s besides the point.

Charles had been blowing up Oscar’s phone ever since his vague text about Car Guy, most of it consisting of ‘who the hell are you with’ and ‘answer your phone, you’re freaking me out.’ Oscar replies to his flurry of messages with nvm. It's fine. I’ll explain later

“Is this a good place to drop you off?” Car Guy asks him, and Oscar’s head jolts up. He parked just a few minutes away from his first class.

“Oh yeah, this is perfect,” Oscar grabs his backpack and opens the car door. “Thanks for this,” he says, turning back.

“No problem,” Car Guy says with a smile. He’s got a little gap between his front teeth. “See you around?”

Oscar gives him a thumbs-up and steps out, walking down the winding sidewalk to Mr. Webber’s class in room 222.

Epilogue

Oscar still needed another alarm. He just kept forgetting. And now he was running late again, this time far too late to even try to catch the bus.

He sits on the parking lot curb, about to call Charles (he’d taken his car today,) when a familiar voice calls out to him.

“Dude, you really need to wake up earlier.”

Oscar gives Car Guy a withering glare. He leans back in his car in response, a look of barely concealed fear in his eyes. “Well, do you want a ride or not?” 

Oscar sighs and stands, getting in the passenger seat. “No football this time,” Car Guy says with a grin. Oscar can’t help but smile back.

This car ride is a lot less talkative than the last one, a playlist of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus from Car Guy’s phone playing loudly. Oscar puts on an excellent act of pretending his ears aren’t bleeding from the music.

“Thanks again,” he says once they arrive at his stop. He gets his backpack and is about to leave when Car Guy speaks up.

“Hey um, I was wondering if maybe you could repay me by going on a date? With me?”

Oscar blinks once, twice. Car Guy obviously takes this the wrong way, his face reddening. “Never mind. Just… forget I said anything.”

“No,” Oscar says. “I don’t want to forget that. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Car Guy says, his eyes lighting up. “Okay, here’s my number.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a folded Sticky-Note, pressing it into Oscar’s hand. Oscar wonders if he feels the electricity when their fingers touch too.

“Uh, this is gonna sound weird,” Oscar says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But can I get your name?”

“Oh. OH. My name’s Lando.”

“Lando,” Oscar says, testing the word on his tongue. “I’m Oscar.”

“I kinda already knew that,” Lando giggles, and now it’s Oscar turn to blush. “You look cute when you blush.” His face gets a thousand times more red.

“OkIgottagoI’lltextyoubye,” he says, almost stumbling out of the car. Once Lando’s car drives away though, he allows himself a bit of a victory dance, before walking to class with a skip in his step and only one word in his mind. Lando, Lando, Lando. 

Okay I kinda hate it 😭 But I don’t really wanna work on it more, so *tosses fanfic at the Tumblr gods and runs*

[punksyeet]

ᰔᩚ Distance ᰔᩚ

Plot: A glimpse into a day in the life of Gianna (OC) when her man is on the road.

Warning: Mature language & over-the-phone smut!

It's 2pm and, since I had a heavy breakfast, I'm currently making a fruit bowl for lunch.

Josh always makes me these when he's home and not on the road, so I decided to make it to kinda bring me some comfort with him being gone.

For context, it's WrestleMania weekend, and he has a match tomorrow for the first night, as well as tonight for SmackDown, so he's been on the road a little extra lately.

Despite how proud I am of him, since a match against his twin brother has always been a dream for them both, it doesn't make me miss him any less.

As I finish chopping some pineapple, I throw the scraps away and hear my phone ding, signaling that I got a text message.

I wash my hands, tap on the screen, and smile as I read.

Joshua 🤍: Hi baby

My Lady ♥️: Hi lovebug <3

Joshua 🤍: How'd you sleep?

My Lady ♥️: Okay. Not nearly as good as I do when you're here.

Joshua 🤍: I know baby. Me too. But we'll be back together soon okay?

My Lady ♥️: Okay 🥲🫶🏽

Joshua 🤍: I miss you lots mama ❤️

My Lady ♥️: I miss you more 🤍

Joshua 🤍: Impossible

My Lady ♥️: Shh it's possible

Joshua 🤍: Hmm yeah? Prove it.

Smirking and raising an eyebrow, I send him some videos and pictures I took last night in my brand new lingerie.

I leave the audio on, which is filled with moans and me whimpering his name.

He'll definitely enjoy these.

My Lady ♥️: [Attachment: 2 videos, 3 images]

Joshua 🤍: Holy fuck

My Lady ♥️: I win 😏

Joshua 🤍: Damn right you do ma 😮‍💨

Joshua 🤍: When did you get that set?

My Lady ♥️: Yesterday at the mall. Do you like it?

Joshua 🤍: I love it baby. You look so sexy. I can't wait to see it on you in person when I get home.

My Lady ♥️: Thank you baby 🥹

Joshua 🤍: [Attachment: 1 image]

Joshua 🤍: Look what you do to me 👀

I'm practically drooling at the sight of his boner very visible in his black sweatpants.

I bite my lip before replying.

My Lady ♥️: Ugh I need that inside me right about now 😩

Joshua 🤍: Mmm soon enough baby ❤️

My Lady ♥️: I miss you so much :(

Joshua 🤍: I miss you too beautiful. And I love you. More than anything. 🫶🏽

My Lady ♥️: I love you too <3

Joshua 🤍: Alright I have a promo with Jon in a few so I gotta go fix this new issue I have in my pants. I'll call you later, okay?

My Lady ♥️: LOL sounds good baby. I'll be watching. 🤍

Joshua 🤍: I know you will babygirl ❤️

You loved "I know you will babygirl ❤️"

Ugh this man drives me crazy.

I set my phone down and continue making my fruit bowl.

Once I'm finished, I take everything out to the backyard and sit at the table.

I unlock my phone and open the kickoff show YouTube stream to my man's entrance music.

He's dressed in a blue YEET crop top, matching glasses, black sweatpants, white air forces, his silver Cuban link chain, and fan bracelets.

I pop a piece of watermelon in my mouth and smile, as he comes out onto the stage and the crowd goes wild.

He's so over with the crowd it's crazy.

I'm so happy for and proud of him. <3

A few minutes have gone by and the promo is coming to a close.

"Tomorrow night," he begins. "Jimmy and Jey. Tomorrow night we stand on business. Man, tomorrow night, you boutta catch this yeet-down."

The crowd follows up his quote with a "YEET!"

"And if you want Jimmy Uso to catch this yeet-down," he continues. "Then lemme hear you say YEET!"

The crowd, once again, answers him with "YEET!" and cheers as his music plays.

I smile and clap my hands, feeling extra proud of him.

I love Jon like a brother, but I just know my man has this match in the bag.

I decide to shoot him a quick little text:

Me: You killed that shit baby. So proud of you! 🥹🤍

I finish up my fruit and, as I'm washing out the bowl, my phone rings. I smile when I see it's from my best friend and Josh's sister in law, Trinity.

G: Hey Trin!

T: Hey babygirl! How are you?

G: I'm good! Just finished watching the guys' promo. You?

T: Ugh me too girl. I'm nervous but, no matter who comes out on top, they're gonna kill it tomorrow.

I smile, nodding in agreement.

G: Agreed! So what's up with you?

T: Not much, girl. I actually called to invite you over. I'm feeling pretty lonely without Jon here and I'd imagine you're feeling the same way about Josh.

I let out a deep sigh.

G: Girl you have no idea.

She giggles.

T: Come over then! We can go in the pool, take some cute pictures, and spend some time together. That way we can keep them off our minds for a bit.

I smile and dry off the bowl.

G: Sounds like a plan girlfriend. I'll be over in about an hour or so.

She squeals and claps her hands.

T: Period! I'll see you soon babe!

We say our goodbyes and I head upstairs to shower and get ready.

I decide on a simple yellow cheeky bikini, throw a tube top and denim shorts over it, then head out.

—————————————————————————————————

I've been over at Trin's for a few hours now.

Our reason for hanging out has been quite the success: while I still miss Josh a ton, she's been keeping my mind off of it.

We decided to order in our favorite Chinese takeout and tune into SmackDown.

Specifically, Josh and his little brother Joseph aka Solo Sikoa’s match.

As my man is about to pin him, Jon comes running in from beside the ring, stopping the count.

I sigh and take a bite of my sesame chicken as Trin sucks her teeth. "He's so messy and for what?"

I shake my head letting out a soft giggle. "Girl that's your man. You're allowed to support him, I'll be okay."

She playfully shoves my arm and we share a laugh, before the crowd's cheering gets our attention and we turn back to the TV.

The camera pans to Cody Rhodes and Seth Rollins running out to the ring.

Eventually, they make it and fight off Jon and Solo, saving my man.

A soft smile appears on my face as Josh climbs to the top rope and delivers an Uso Splash to his twin.

"Girl," Trin says breathlessly, before taking a sip from her wine glass. "This rivalry got me all the way fucked up."

I nod in agreement. "Amen to that. Hopefully after tomorrow they can just hug it out and make up."

She nods and we share a laugh, then proceed to watch the rest of the show.

After another few hours of watching our favorite romcoms, eating, and sharing laughs, it's past midnight and I decide to head home.

"Alright boo," Trin says, leaning against my window once I'm in my car safely. "Drive safely and please text me once you get home."

"I will," I reply, and we share yet another hug through the window. "I love you."

"I love you too babygirl," she exclaims.

We say our goodbyes and I head off.

About 15 minutes into driving, my phone rings and reveals that Josh is FaceTiming me.

I smile, connect my phone to bluetooth, prop it up so that he can see me, and answer.

His gorgeous face pops up on my screen.

He seems to be laid in his hotel room bed, with his arm propped behind his head.

G: "Hi lovebug."

J: "Hey babygirl. Where you headed at this time of night?"

G: "Home. I was at Trin's place for a while. We had a pool day and watched the show together."

J: "Aw that sounds nice."

I smile while stopping at a red light and lift up my arms to stretch, yawning in the process.

He smiles, just sitting there watching me.

J: "Tired mama?"

G: "Exhausted. I can't wait to take a shower and sleep."

He lets out a chuckle.

J: "I bet. I wish I was there to help you relax."

G: "Me too baby. I miss you."

J: "I miss you more ma. But I'll be home before you know it."

I nod, giving him a soft smile and turning onto our block.

Soon enough, I park my car in our driveway and head into the house, locking the door behind me.

I shoot Trin a text while still on the phone with Josh:

Gigi 💗: Hey sis. I just made it home. 🤍

Trin 🥰🫶🏽: Good to hear girl. It was so good seeing you today. ❤️

Gigi 💗: Same here. Love you! 🫶🏽

Trin 🥰🫶🏽: Love you too! Sleep well. 🥰

You loved “Love you too! Sleep well. 🥰”

I smile and close my tabs, going back to the FaceTime with my man.

Assuming he's getting ready for a shower, he peels his shirt off, revealing his gorgeously toned torso and perfectly caramel colored tattooed skin.

Fuck I miss that body so badly.

He must've caught me lacking, because he smirks and raises an eyebrow.

J: "You like what you see, baby?"

I bite my lip, nodding.

G: "You know I do. I miss having that body all to myself every night."

J: "Who says you can't?"

I raise an eyebrow, clearly confused, before he continues.

** tiny smut warning! **

J: "Get those clothes off and lay down for me, mama."

I bite my lip and stare at the screen for a second as he sexily pulls down his sweats and boxers, allowing his dick to spring free.

I prop up my phone so that he can see me and slowly peel off my clothes as well.

He begins to get hard and strokes himself at the sight of my now naked body.

J: "Fuck baby. Your body...the things it does to me...you're so dangerous."

I sit on my knees and massage my breasts, sticking out my tongue and allowing my saliva to drip onto them.

J: "Good girl baby. Play with those tits for daddy. You know just what I like."

After a few minutes of this, we move onto my lower half.

"F-fuck daddy! Just like that!" I moan, my head thrown back, pumping my fingers in and out of my hole.

Josh moans along with me, stroking his now wet hand from the base to the tip of his dreamy dick, never taking his eyes off of me.

J: "I want you to cum for daddy. Let go. Can you do that for me?"

"U-uh huh," I reply, my fingers still at work, except now they're making rapid circles on my clit.

J: "Use your words for daddy, baby."

"Y-yes daddy!" I utter out in between moans, slowly but surely reaching my climax.

J: “Good girl.”

Just seconds later, I feel a pit in my stomach.

“D-daddy! I’m so fucking close!” I practically scream.

J: “Cum for daddy, baby. Gimme that shit.”

My body jerks as warm, white liquid pours out of me and onto the bed.

J: "Pick up your phone baby. Daddy wants to watch all that cum spill out of your pretty lil pussy."

I do as he says and, soon enough, I've made a huge mess all over our sheets.

And as if on cue, he hits his climax as well.

** smut over! **

"Fuck," I whisper breathlessly, laying back and panting like a nut job.

I can hear deep breaths coming through his side of the phone as well.

J: "You did so well for me baby. And once I get home, it's gonna be even sweeter."

I nod, my mouth still hanging open.

He chuckles and cleans up his mess, as I quickly change our sheets and get ready for my shower.

"I'm gonna get in the shower and hop in bed," I exclaim, my voice just above a whisper. "I'll call you in the morning?"

He nods. "Sounds good, mama. Go get some rest. I love you."

I give him a soft smile. "I love you too, baby. Good night."

We say our goodbyes and he even kisses me through the phone, causing me to giggle before we hang up.

I toss my phone aside and head into the bathroom.

I take a steaming hot everything shower, do my nighttime skin care, brush my teeth, all of that.

Once finished, I climb into bed and tuck myself under the covers.

I reach over and grab one of Josh's pillows from his side of the bed and snuggle it.

It smells heavenly - just like him.

The scent brings me automatic comfort, and within minutes, I drift off to sleep.

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𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐩𝐞𝐚┇𝐂.𝐒

𝘱𝘵1. 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴.

⌈after a lifetime of being ignored, and the death of her father, taking out her rage against the world the only way she knows how - murder.⌉

⌈pairing⌉ Chris Sturniolo x Sweetpea!reader.

⌈warnings!⌉ mentions of death, killing, drinking, smoking, smut (in later parts)

a/n: in my sweetpea era. I recommend watching it first before reading this lol. I dont wanna spoil anything. Its the same story line but like my own twist to it, and some similarities too. its been pretty good so far. so this is soley inspired off the show with also my own twist.

(Divider by @bernardsbendystraws)

‘People id love too kill…’ you thought. Sitting on the back of the bus between two men, man spreading ‘Men that lack human decency. Lindsey from the corner store who was never really happy to help’ flashing back to the memory.

“Just these please” you announced, barely noticed by her as she smacks her gum with headphones in “Right and I told her she couldn’t get mad at me just because her man wanted me.” She tells her friend over the phone.

‘My shitty boss. For failing to acknowledge my work, justin from work. For his lack of spacial awareness. Actually everyone from work ’ another flashback hits you. “Night!” You say enthusiastically just to be ignored by your boss and fellow employees.

‘My mom for leaving us and never telling us where she went’ flashbacks of you and your sister standing with your father begging your mother not to leave. Pulling yourself out of your daze you look down at your phone at your long list of messages to your sister typing an ‘I miss you’ message and hitting send.

‘My sister for leaving me on read.. on the phone and in life.’ You continue thinking. The man beside you spreads his legs wider knocking you out of your trance. “Im sorry but do you mind closing your legs a little? Im already squished” you ask the man. He just scoffs.

‘My dad. For dying.’ Its not like it was his fault for dying. But he left me completely stranded. On my own. Sure I just turned 21 but im all alone now. My sister leaving me to live with her fiancé in California.

‘My old high school bully. Who made me invisible in school and in life. Christopher Sturniolo. Fucking Christopher Sturniolo. Who made my life a living hell.’ Flashbacks of you walking down the hall. You getting shoved into a locker just for the fucking asshole to laugh with his friends “guys I think I just bumped into a ghost” another time being you being at your locker, he walks over with his friends leaning against the locker by yours “guys did you hear that y/n died? Not like anyone would miss the girl anyways” he announces “I’m not dead I’m literally right here” you say in a hushed manner just for him and his friends to shove past you laughing.

Who subjected me to an endless cycle of psychological abuse. Destroying my self-worth and general context of the world. “Oh my god, do you guys smell that?! It smells like rotting flesh!” He says “shes so fucking weird.” One of his friends chime in. Christopher Sturniolo, for making me pull so much of my hair out, that I had to wear a wig. Christopher Sturniolo, for turning me into a ghost.

Making me forever invisible, and afraid.

*itty bitty time skip*

“We gather here today in honor of the late David Sharp. Who was not only a son to the lovely Barbara sharp. But a father to his two beloved daughters Jasmine and y/n Sharp……” the pastor says as he brutally mispronounces your name. “Thats not my name…” you whisper “hush.” Your sister says nudging you with her knee. “A man of many talents, a man of many friends, a man of many loving employees” you turn looking towards Aj giving him a small wave, just for a little head nod in response.

You’ve known Aj for roughly 2 years. Him working as an assistant to your father. You guys have also hooked up quite a few times. The last time being 2 weeks before your fathers passing. You’ve texted Aj in your down time. Mainly when you’ve felt lonely. Just to receive shit ass responses.

Y/n:

Hey… do you maybe wanna come over tonight?

Watch a movie or something?

Aj:

Cant. W the boys.

Y/n:

Oh okay!

Maybe some other time!

Aj:

👍🏼

Before you know it the funeral is over and your standing out front with your sister. Thanking people for coming. You hear a group of guys laughing. ‘Who the fuck laughs at a funeral?’ Looking towards the laughter you see him. “What is he doing here?!” You ask your sister. “Him and his brothers came back to pay respects to dad. Since Jim was a close friend of dad’s…” she says

“Matt, Nick, Chris thank you guys for coming!” She says giving the three boys a hug. You stood there with your head low. “Of course sorry for your loss. I cant Imagine how hard it must be for you guys right now…… hey y/n” Nick says while returning the hug to your sister and patting your arm gently. “How have you been kiddo?” Matt asks. You feel his eyes on you. Looking up you see chris staring at you. “Well my dad died so…” you say “y/n dont be weird” your sister says while nudging your arm. You start messing with the stands of your hair on the back of your neck

It is weird though. You haven’t seen the triplets since you all graduated high school. You getting a normal job at you local newspaper office and them moving to L.A. to be youtubers. I mean of course you guys always had dinners at each other’s house due to your parents being high school friends and your sister being best friends with Matt.

Probably because they’ve also dated in high school for about 10 months. Breaking it off because they both decided being friends would be much easier “You’re not still doing that are you?” Chris asks. Snapping you out of your thoughts you quickly move your hand letting out a small gasp. You look at him before excusing your self and walking away.

“Hey… Ive tried looking for you… when did you start smoking?” She asks with a disgust look on her face. “Since dad died. Only thing helping me stay focused. It was good catching up” you say. “Yea I havent seen the boys in ages. Ive missed them… So ive been thinking we need to sell the house y/n” Jas says breaking the silence “and dads business probably” she adds. “What? B-but I live in the house Jas.” You stammer out. “There are other houses.” She says bluntly

“Well Tom and I wanna buy a place for the kids and us so…” she says “why dont you move back? We could be like a little family!” You try to lift the mood. “Are you serious?” She asks rolling her eyes. “Its settled. Chris is helping. He has a friend in real estate so its final” she says looking down at her phone “Jas no. You cant. Not him.” You say as she cuts you off getting into the back of her uber “lets talk about this later okay? Ill call you… hey the boys are going to luckys tonight for a reunion drink. You should go.” She says trying to make you feel better

“Are you serious?” You ask “what?” She asks “he pretended like he was better than me. Did you not hear what he said to me. He hates me.” You ramble on. “Who chris? Maybe he doesnt. This could be good for you, ya know? A new start?” She says “well dads dead so” you state clearly annoyed and mad at everything thats happened in the past 10 minutes “yea I know. He was my dad too. You need to get over this whole Chris thing. Go to Luckys you might actually enjoy yourself.” She says rolling up the window as the car pulls off.

*another itty bitty time skip brought to you by yours truly*

‘There is no fucking way I actually showed up to this.’ You thought standing outside of the pub. Already a few glasses of wine in. You dont want to be labeled as a lightweight but you just turned 21 so ofc you’d get drunk easily not participating in underage drinking and high school parties.

Walking into the pub, you see many people. Some old cliques from school. Then you see him. Having that liquid courage and already leaving heated voicemails on your sister’s phone you stomp your way over to him.

“Christopher! CHRIS!” You yell grabbing onto his arm. “I need you to fuck off and stay out of my life” you say grabbing onto his forearm pulling him towards you “Oh hey y/n… are you good? Do you need some water?” He says with a smug grin on his face. “No I dont need fucking water I need you to fuck off!” You say “I have no idea what your talking about kid.” He says stepping towards you. Leaving little to no space between the both of you.

“You know exactly what im talking about! You ruined my life in high school you made my life a living fucking hell. My dads dead. Your selling my house! And now your ruining my life again!” You yell. Drawing attention from Matt and Nick as they walk over “Hey y/n… you dont look too good right now. Are you drunk do you need a ride home?” Matt asks “No what I need is for Chris to fuck off and stop ruining my life!” You yell tears welling up in your eyes. “Listen kid. I didnt give a shit about you in high school and I dont give a shit about you now. So all your shitty life problems thats on you. Get the fuck off me.” He says shoving you back.

“Hey are you-” you cut Nick off snatching your arm away from him stumbling out of the pub. Walking across the road a man bumps shoulders with you causing you to stumble some more. You walk down a flight of stairs that lead to a creek under an overpass. Sitting there lost in thought you dig through your purse finding your dads old pocket knife. “Lifes shit without you.” You mumble.

You get lost in thought when a man comes up behind you, taking a piss on the wall and hitting you with his piss “hey! What the fuck?! Did you not see me sitting here?!” You yell at the man “Oh shit sorry sweetpea didnt see you sitting there.” He says chuckling as he turns around to walk off.

Clearly still pissed off with your interaction with Chris and at the man that just pissed on you. You walk up behind him kicking him in the back of the leg “Do you see me now?!” You yell at the man “what the fuck, oh your in some shit now” he says walking towards you. Walking back your back hits the railing and hes getting to close to you.

With the knife in hand you jab it towards his stomach “Ah fuck! You fucking cut me! My favorite shirt! You ruined it! Your so done!” As he steps towards you, your mind goes blank as you jab him in the neck. The man falls to the ground and you straddle him as you stab him repeatedly “do you see me now?! Huh?! Now do you see me! Do you see me now!” Watching the life fade from his eyes you snap back into reality.

“Ohh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You say with panic in your eyes. Dropping the knife looking down at your body. Your covered in the mans blood you can taste it on your lips. In a rush you push the mans body into the creek picking up the knife. You look down at your outfit again zipping up your rain coat and pulling up the hood making a beeline straight to your home.

Walking into your home and hurriedly locking the door you run straight to your bathroom looking at yourself in the mirror. Closing your eyes you get a flashback from your last conversation with your father.

“What happened here?” He says pointing at your hand “oh nothing, justin just bumped into me” you say “you need to stop letting people piss all over you kid. You need to be more ‘RAHR!’ You know?” He says. Shaking your head you open your eyes looking into the mirror.

“RAAAAAAAAHRRRRR” you scream.

a/n: pt 1 wooo. It feels long and ive skipped a lot of parts from the show but I swear this is just the beginning. Pt2 idk when we’ll see how this does. My hands just hurt from all the typing lol.

[uceyliyahh]

SOMETHING BOUT’ US

Summary: "I want you more than anything in my life." After being in a difficult relationship with Carmelo Yasmine decided to move on from him and become the next big thing while getting drafted on the smackdown roster she always thought she would never find love again due to her commitment issues until she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 4605

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Yasmine

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi

6.

JEY I was in the garage at home doing my workouts for this upcoming PPV that is happening this weekend. Jon and I got a tag team title defense against the New Day during that time, so I had to be prepared for it.

I hope Yasmine will be able to debut around this weekend during the PPV because I heard that someone would be making their long-awaited debut for a title-shot match against Liv Morgan.

As I was doing my bench press reps, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, which made me put a pause on my workout. I grabbed it from my pocket,  seeing that Yasmine had texted me.

Yasmine🩵 sent 2+ messages and two attachments IMESSAGE 💬 Yasmine🩵: bestie butt I miss you Yasmine🩵: it's sooo boring without you here hopefully I get to see you at work. Yasmine🩵:

'I felt myself getting hard at these pictures she just sent me damn she looked so fucking cute.'

Joshua🤍: Yasmine you're really testing it right now. Yasmine🩵: whaaaaaat? All I did was send some pictures 🙄 Joshua🤍: yeah, they're cute but that's not the problem minks. Yasmine🩵: then what's the problem? 🤨 Joshua🤍: Yasmine stop playin dumb with me Yasmine🩵: these pictures are getting you hard right now? Joshua🤍: bingo I feel like you sent them on purpose Yasmine🩵: maybe....maybe not🙂🤭 Joshua🤍: you wanna keep playin? Yasmine🩵: what? Ion' know what you're talking about Bestie Joshua🤍: A'ight bet since you wanna act dumb and keep playin I got'chu later on Yasmine🩵: wait Josh I was kidding Yasmine🩵: JOSHUA!! 🥲🥲

I chuckled as I left her on read, staring down at my hardened member and then back at her photos. Her images made me want to pound my dick in so badly. After putting away all of my exercise gear and heading upstairs to my bedroom, I lay down on my bed and took down my shorts, watching my dick pop up and land on my stomach as I started to stroke it up and down while daydreaming about her.

MINI SMUT WARNING

While I kept my eyes closed, I was groaning Yasmine's name and imagining how wonderful it would feel to be within her at that moment. I was going crazy thinking about her in this way, especially when I had wet dreams about it. My legs were squeezing together, and I could picture her bouncing up and down on my dick while groaning my name. I could feel my breath becoming unsteady as I continued to stroke my dick up and down.

"Fuck...Yasmine...Fuck.." I moaned softly as I kept stroking it in a steady pace.

I was rolling my eyes in the back of my head yearning for more of her, her touch, her rubbing all up on me. I instantly grabbed my phone and started to record a video of myself stroking my dick up and down so I could send it to her.

I kept stroking the tip feeling myself edging on as I continued to moan her name, I just couldn't wait to be all up in that whenever I get a chance.

"Ouuuu fuck mama..." thinking about beating her shit in while pulling on her hair choking her as I pushed my dick deeply inside of her wanting her to feel every single inch of me.

I clenched my legs some more feeling sweat coming down my cheeks with my face being all flushed. I felt myself shaking as I sped up the pace a little bit more.

My mouth was parted opened as I felt myself getting close to my climax as my dick twitched in my hands.

I kept imagining Yasmine stroking it for me swirling her tongue around my tip before going down on me while my tip was hitting the back of her throat gagging on it.

"Fuck, I'm finna nut fuck.." I moaned.

I chuckled as I let out a satisfying sigh and saw my nut trickling from my hand as I gently stroked the remaining portion out, cursing under my breath after a few more strokes.

MINI SMUT OVER.

I used my available hand to stop the video recording as my chest was heaving up and down. Getting up from the bed, I went towards my bathroom and took a shower.

'Damn that shit felt so good.'

✧˚° YASMINE I was at the performance center today in the ring practicing with Bianca for my debut this weekend at Crown Jewel. Nobody knew but the girls. I was so nervous and happy that I was finally debuting at my first-ever PPV.

I was on top of the turnbuckle doing my finisher move on Bianca, landing on her stomach and hearing her groan in pain at the feeling. That's when I pinned her shoulders down, counting in my head.

I let go of her leg as I felt my face flushed. My chest was heaving up and down, getting up from the ring, and I placed my hands on my hips as Bianca did the same.

"Damn girl you're really good." Bianca said.

"Man I know I believe what Shawn Michael's was saying that I'll be the next star in this company." I said wiping the sweat off of my forehead.

"I see the vision of you being a champion girl and when you do you better give me the opportunity." I nodded my head chuckling at her letting her know that I'll make sure to give her a title shot.

I went to grab my phone as I saw that Jey had sent me a video. When I went to go open it, my eyes went wide as I saw him stroking his dick up and down, hearing him moaning my name.

I made sure to put my AirPods in so I could listen to it more clearly; as I predicted it his dick was big as fuck and now I gotta wait until later to see what the fuck was he talking about earlier when I sent those pictures.

After watching the video, seeing his nut spilling out from the tip and dripping down on his hands, it just made my body feel warm and fuzzy seeing that he's thinking about me.

I turned the phone off, hearing Bianca's footsteps coming behind me. "Are you ready, girl? Let's go see what your gear is looking like." I nodded my head while grabbing our bags and our water.

✧˚° After Bianca and I checked out my ring attire for Crown Jewel, all I can say is that it looked good, like really good. We were at the catering area, seeing Trinity and Jonathan sitting there at our table eating.

We walked up with our plates as they both looked at us and smiled I tried to scan the area to find Jey but he was nowhere to be found so I just shrugged it off.

Trinity and Them didn't know about my debut match for the weekend because it had to be a secret that would surprise everyone, including the crowds.

"Trinity have you seen my bestie?" I asked.

"I think he's in him and Jon's locker room right now I don't know why?" She said while stuffing her face with food.

"I just wanted to know that's all I was hoping to see him today." Trinity nodded her head as we all continued to eat our foods together. Meanwhile, I felt my phone buzz. When I pulled it out, I saw that Jey had texted me.

Joshua🤍 sent a message IMESSAGE 💬 Joshua🤍: come holla at me for a minute when you get done minks.

I was nervous, to say the least. I didn't know what he had planned, and when I went towards his locker room, all I could think about was what he had said earlier before we came into work.

After I finished eating my food, I got up from the table and went towards the trashcan, throwing away my plate in the process, before heading towards his locker room.

Meanwhile, I heard someone behind me calling my name. I could recognize that voice from a mile away. When I turned around, I saw Carmelo standing there with his arms crossed.

"What Melo?" I asked giving him a stern expression.

"What the fuck is goin on between you and Jey? I saw what you posted on your page talking about a favorite person; it better be me." He said sternly as I smacked my teeth because I didn't have time for this shit right now.

"Melo? Can we not be delusional for once, like seriously, you knew who I was referring to." I was beginning to walk away until I felt him grabbing me by the wrist which made me turn around a smack the fuck out of him.

By this point, I was getting sick of him snatching me up like I was some kind of fucking Barbie doll or something. I watched as he staggered back, clutching his cheek in disbelief. Carmelo was stunned when I turned to leave for Jey's locker room when I approached his locker room I knocked on the door like usual waiting for him to open it.

When I heard his footsteps approaching the door, I heard him opening the door, and I saw myself standing there, looking all innocent. I gazed up at him, smiling.

He let me in, closing the door behind us. I wrapped my arms around his neck while he wrapped his around my waist, and we made eye contact.

"I missed you bestie butt." I said.

"I missed you too mamas." Jey said as he gave me a peck on the lips.

Hoping that he would forget what he had said earlier, I unwrapped my arms around his neck before walking away to sit down on the couch. That's when I felt him pull me back into his arms, scooping me up by the thighs.

Now I was straddling his lap like I was one week ago. He placed his lips onto mine as we passionately made out with each other. Our tongues were fighting for dominance, knowing he had won that fight, feeling him rubbing his hands all over my body.

Next thing I knew, our clothes were on the floor as the cold breeze hit our bodies. It was like we had lost control in the moment, feeling my body grinding on his hardened dick.

Hearing him hiss at the feeling, we stopped what we were doing as we looked at each other, I couldn't wait any longer for this begging him with my eyes just to fuck me right there.

"We don't have to do this mama, ion want you to feel uncomfortable or being forced." Jey said trying to read my facial expressions.

I shook my head, "I want too Josh...I wanna do this...I trust you..." I was shocked at myself for even saying this despite my trust issues but with Jey it felt so different he's been my peacemaker.

SMUT WARNING He kissed me on the lips, trailing them down onto my neck and giving me wet kisses as I threw my head back in pleasure, letting him do whatever he wanted to do to me.

He was sucking on my neck like a vampire that needed blood supply as he marked me up good, at this point we reached our limit knowing that we both wanted more from each other and not just some kissing and teasing each other.

I felt him rubbing my soaking folds against his tip as I sat down on it, letting his dick fill me up well as I gasped, knowing that he was finna be all in my shit. He pulled me closer to his body and held onto me tightly, giving me nothing but sweet kisses on the cheek.

"You goin' to ride this dick fo' me baby?" He said in a low tone that gave me shivers I nodded my head, looking into his eyes

I slowly moved my ass up and down on his dick, trying to adjust to his size, feeling his hands guiding my hips to my movements. I never felt so full before, especially when I was with Carmelo again. Something about Jey is different.

I had my eyes rolling in the back of my head as Jey watched me bounce all up on his dick I could see him having his bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth.

"Damn, mama...this some good ass pussy.." Jey Groaned as I sped up my pace a little bit.

I saw him throwing his head back as he continued to watch me become a moaning mess for him and only him.

"F-fuckk Josh..." I moaned breathlessly maintaining eye contact with him as I bit the bottom of my lip.

"You so fucking pretty baby, taking papi's dick so well." He was a much better talker than melo was it just turned me on even more. We stopped in our tracks as we heard the door knocking as me and him looked at each other.

But then I felt him thrust his hips upward, causing me to gasp while he covered my mouth, continually thrusting his hips so deep inside of me.

"Yo Uce! we gotta do this segment in like 20 minutes!" Jon said.

"Shit...A'ight then uce I'll be out there in a few!" Jey managed to speak as he pounded into my wet cunt. He looked dead into my eyes, giving me a warning.

At the point, his dick felt like it was all in my guts as I let him take control of the situation, feeling pull my face closer to his as we passionately kissed.

"Ouuu papi...you're so deep. " He liked the way I sounded, and I practically begged him for more—more of him calling out his name.

"Yeah? Keep bouncing on it then mama, make me nut." I did what I was told to do and went back to bouncing on his dick on the couch.

I felt my walls gripping onto him, hearing him cursing under his breath, spanking my ass in the process, getting a handful of it.

I felt a pit going down my stomach, knowing that I was going to be coating my cream all over him as we continued to tongue kiss each other.

His hands were guiding my hips to speed up the pace a little more as skins were slapping against each other, which sounded out the entire room. I could feel his tip hitting my cervix driving me crazy.

He was so deep inside of me it had me seeing stars knowing that this man drives me crazy. I could feel myself coming closer to my orgasm.

That's when I felt him get up flipping us over, now my back was on the couch while my legs were pinned to my sides as he began drilling my shit.

I couldn't handle it anymore as I tried to push him by his stomach but he slapped my hand away fucking vigorously. "J-Joshhhhuaa oh my godddd." I moaned his full name rolling my eyes in the back of my head.

"Mhm...give me this shit mama...cum all over this dick..." He grunted firmly grabbing me by the throat not wanting to hurt me.

The air was thickening with our breathing and sweating making it feel hot inside the locker room. Jey circled his hips hitting my spot over and over again as I felt defeated by him.

Our foreheads were touching each other staring into each other's eyes deeply as he pecked me on the lips letting me to relax and that he got me.

"Uhnnn Josh I-I'm finna C-cum..!" I mewled weakly feelin' tired and overwhelmed.

I heard him whispering something in my ear that made me came all over this man, "C'mon cum fo' papi baby...daddy's got'chu pretty mamas." I felt my legs shaking as I let out a gasp cumming all over him rolling my eyes deeply in the back of my head while he was watching too.

My entire body quivered underneath him as I saw my cream coat his dick so well while he continued to beat my shit in.

I felt so overwhelmed that I had tears running down my face due to me being sensitive around my area, using my hand to push him away, but that just made things worse.

He kept my legs over his shoulders, pounding into me so deeply to the point where I couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore, covering my face in the process.

"Move yo' damn arm away from yo' face minks lemme' see how good I'm fucking you." He demanded as he removed my arm away from my face.

He liked the way I was looking so miserable underneath him, holding onto the couch for dear life and feeling his dick twitch inside of me.

His movements became slower and sloppier with every single thrust he gave me; he wanted me to feel every inch.

"Fuck minks I'm finna nut..." Jey placed a soft kiss on my lips as he moved his hips deeper into my gushy insides.

After a few more thrusts, Jey pulled out of me, letting out a satisfying groan escaping his lips while he came all over my stomach, stroking the rest of his nut out.

'This is some of best sex I ever had.'

SMUT OVER.

I was panting heavily as my chest was heaving up and down; my legs felt like jello shaking violently. Jey had taken notice of that and began massaging my thighs, planting kisses over them.

He grabbed a napkin so he could wipe his nut off of my stomach, after he did that we began putting on our clothes as I attempted to walk towards the mirror fixing my hair hiding my hickies in the process behind my hair.

My legs felt so weak I could barely stand, 'damn, this nigga fuck me good way to good.' He walked up behind me wrapping his arms around my waist placing a kiss on my cheek as we looked at each other in the mirror.

"You good minks?" Jey asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine my legs just feel like jello now because of you sir." I said rolling my eyes at him as I heard him chuckling softly.

"My fault mamas, you just felt so good I couldn't help it." I punched him in his chest before placing a kiss on his lips.

He pulled away from me, grabbing his phone and checking the time he had to leave for this segment before Jon starts to get pissed like a little ass kid. With that he gave one final kiss before heading out to meet with Jon.

Meanwhile, I saw my phone light up as I saw that Bianca had texted me.

Breezy🫶🏽 sent 2+ messages IMESSAGE 💬 Breezy🫶🏽: Yasmine wya? Breezy🫶🏽: oh never mind you with Joshua?

I just chuckled at the messages and began texting her back.

Minnie🧃: yeah, I was spending time with Josh Breezy🫶🏽: girl what was yall doing in there?😭 Minnie🧃: well see about that😭😭 Breezy🫶🏽: OMG BITCH YALL TWO IS NASTY Minnie🧃: we couldn't control ourselves okay😭 this is what we wanted Breezy🫶🏽: I understand girl completely but hurry up before Montez get back in here Minnie🧃: I'm otw now 😭

I made sure that I've gotten everything before leaving towards Montez's locker room, while walking down the hallway I ran into him yet again but this time I just ignored his ass not wanting to hear what he has to say.

As I made it towards my brother's locker room, I opened the door and saw Trinity and Bianca sitting on the couch like always. They both looked at me, darting their eyes behind me.

When I turned around, I saw Carmelo standing behind me, which made me jump a little bit before I turned around and sighed deeply.

"Melo what the fuck." I said.

His eyes darted towards my neck seeing all of my purple hickies on my neck that Jey had applied on me I could read his facial expressions and he looked pretty pissed.

He moved my hair to the side, getting a better view of the hickeys on my neck, "Yasmine, why the fuck are there hickeys on your neck?" I rolled my eyes at him, folding my arms in the process.

"Why does it matter? Get it through your head, Melo. We are not together." Carmelo tried to grab me by the arm, but Trinity came just in time to stop him, slapping him in the face and causing him to stumble backward while shutting the door in his face.

I sat down on the couch, rubbing my temple, feeling frustrated with all of this. The girls could see how stressed I was.

"Girl, you gotta get a restraining order on him or something or he'll just keep harassing you." Bianca said.

I nodded my head agreeing with them I had to do something or this will get worst.

✧˚° OMNISCIENT After work, Yasmine decided to go home and chill for the rest of the day since her body was sore and still recovering from the session she and Jey had earlier today.

When she pulled up in the driveway, she turned off the ignition switch in her car, grabbed her keys and bags from the backseat, and exited the car.

She had thought about what Bianca had said about getting a restraining order against Carmelo. It would probably finally give her some piece of mind if he stayed away from her, and if he went against it, he could go to jail.

It made her smile to think about him being in jail and away from her, especially since she and Jey have been getting close.

She unlocked the door, wiping her feet on the mat before coming inside. She held onto the wall, taking off her shoes and placing them on the rack.

Meanwhile, she sat down on the couch, sighing in relief, feeling her phone vibrate and seeing an unknown number calling her.

OTP Yasmine: hello? Unknown number: Hey minks Yasmine: who the fuck is this? Unknown number: girl it's Trick damn did you forget me already Yasmine: Nigga how did you get my number? Ion want nun to do with you Unknown number: c'mon you know what you told me wasn't true he didn't do that Yasmine: Trick fuck you like honestly your own best friend literally fucking raped me in my locker room and choke me the fuck out and you wanna call up my phone saying that I'm making it up? Unknown number: Minks c'mon now Yasmine: don't fucking call my number again Unknown number: Minks—

CALLED ENDED

Yasmine felt her cheeks getting wet as she wiped her tears away. She couldn't believe that this man didn't believe her and believed that she had made this all up just to ruin Carmelo's reputation.

She blocked Trick's TextNow number while bawling her eyes out on the couch, she had flashbacks of what had happened that day it always give her nightmares at night that's why she always wanted Jey to stay with her because he was her comfort person.

Yasmine wiped the rest of her tears away as she texted Trinity.

IMESSAGE 💬 Minnie🧃: hey, Trin? Trin🤭🫶🏽: yeah, girl what's up? Minnie🧃: is Joshua with yall? Trin🤭🫶🏽: no, him and Jon went out for drinks with the guys why what's wrong? Minnie🧃: sigh, I'm having a mental breakdown right now and I just need him here but ion' wanna be a burden if he's with the guys Trin🤭🫶🏽: hey! Don't say that about yourself you're not a burden to nobody not even Joshua Minnie🧃: I'm trying to calm myself down I can't believe that this man thinks I made it all up Trin🤭🫶🏽: who Trick? He called you? How? Minnie🧃: from a TextNow number Trin🤭🫶🏽: omg he's so weird for that honestly but let me see what time they're coming back okay? Minnie🧃: kk thank you Trin Trin🤭🫶🏽: ofccc I'll do anything for you

After she texted Trin, she went upstairs and went towards her bedroom, not knowing when Bianca and Montez were coming home. She lay down in her bed, curled up in a ball.

She didn't feel safe at work with Carmelo walking around, even though she had protection. She believed that her protection wouldn't help as much since they wouldn't really be around.

She again felt tears running down her face, hoping that Jey would come and comfort her, but she was also scared, wondering if she was pushing him away or scaring him off with her issues.

Wondering if she was enough for him in his eyes, Yasmine wiped her tears away, seeing her phone light up as she saw a text from Jey.

Joshua🤍 sent 2+ messages IMESSAGE 💬 Joshua🤍: hey, mama Trin had texted me saying that you were looking for me Joshua🤍: you okay?

She smiled at the messages but it went away due to her overthinking about what she had thought about.

Yasmine🩵: yeah, I'm okay bestie Joshua🤍: you don't have to hide it from me minks Yasmine🩵: I-I'm not hiding anything... Joshua🤍: Yasmine don't be doing that what's wrong? Yasmine🩵: it's nothing ion' wanna be a burden I'll see you tmr Josh goodnight Joshua🤍: Minks

Yasmine turned off her phone while getting up from her bed and going towards her dresser. She took off her clothes and threw them in the dirty bin right next to her dresser.

She heard her phone going off knowing that Jey was calling her but she didn't want to answer it ignoring her phone ringing, since she already took a shower at work she changed into something comfortable while getting inside her warm blankets.

In the dark, she tossed and turned, not feeling comfortable. Her bed felt empty without Jey cuddling her. She saw a car light approaching the house, probably thinking that it was Montez and Bianca coming home, but she heard the door knocking, which is something that they don't do when they have a key.

She got up from her bed walked downstairs towards the front door, opened the door seeing the person that she wanted to see and be with.

He looked good wearing all black along with his gold chain and white Air Forces including his piercings that hang from his ears.

He had his arms folded over his chest as she let him in before shutting the door behind him, standing there like a little kid.

Her eyes watched him sit down on the couch, curling up his finger in the process as she walked up towards him, going between his legs.

"C'mere Yasmine." Jey spoken.

She looked down at her feet, fiddling with her fingers, as he pulled her onto his lap, grabbing her chin and making her look at him.

Jey noticed that she had been crying, showing concern in his eyes. "Talk to me, mama. What was all of that about?" Yasmine opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

She sighed, knowing that she wasn't going to get away from this, so she explained what had happened and why she was acting like that, expressing herself that she didn't want to be a burden or worried that she was scaring him away with her issues, wondering if she was enough.

Hearing her vent and let out her feelings just broke his heart. Listening to this, he knew that he loved her deeply; she just didn't even know it.

"Minks, you're more than enough for me. You aren't a burden, mama. Don't ever say that." He reassured her while placing a kiss on her shoulder.

"I'm here for you, mama. You don't have to be afraid to tell me things." Yasmine nodded her head while lying down on his chest.

She knew that Jey was her true comfort person, her peacemaker, and she felt a sense of relief that Jey wasn't going to leave her or judge her for what she had gone through.

Yasmine knew that she would be loved by him.

Something Bout' Us.

A/n: I honestly understand Yasmine completely I know Jey is going to love her downnnn but Trick ass just a damn disgrace like how can you believe your best friend's lies over Yasmine? When you wasn't even there?

Idkk but he's pissing me off honestly.

But I hope yall enjoy the chapter lmk in the comments below.

Stay Ucey.

[bookish-library]

Got bored in teacher observations, so here are some doodles from then! (Close ups under the cut)

[tearfest]

sorry to log on n rant but i need to rant

[secretlyofthefeywild]

lol my father had another temper tantrum and kicked me out of the car on the way to work slay 🤪

[lucky-draws]

15.7.23

[aralisj]

I had to call my bank about a purchase I didn't recognize. 10 dead, 47 injured.

[yongseungkim]

.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RING. RING. RING. 

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

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

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

Probably not. That would be far too lucky. 

~~~

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

It was too much of a risk. 

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

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

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky. 

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking unfair. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I want us to do that—” 

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

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

It didn’t. 

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

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

“I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you calling me self absorbed?” 

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

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

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

God he’s even pretty when he blushes. 

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

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

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

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

“Do I have any other responsibilities?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something you knew very well. 

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

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

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

You blink, “how’d you know that?” 

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

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

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

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

“What students?” 

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

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

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

“No,” and he only smiles wider. 

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

“I’m not—“ 

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

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, this wasn’t a dream was it? 

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

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

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

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

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?” 

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. 

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

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

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

“Nothing,” you insist. 

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

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

Nothing good ever came from your want. 

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

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

But you can’t be. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you make the decision for both of you. 

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

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

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

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

No, it didn’t matter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But why did it hurt so goddamn much? 

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

Was it really not a big deal to him? 

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

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

Just fine. 

“There was a problem with your reservation,” 

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

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

One. Bed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re both adults—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. God. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was going to be a long weekend. 

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

Fuck his life. 

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

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

God, he sighed, it was such a mess. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t. 

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

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

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

Not when it was you. 

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

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

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

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

You hated how much you loved it 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Professor—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of him?” 

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

“Not your type?” he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just for a moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for sticking to your sides. 

Fuck.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could this possibly get worse? 

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

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

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

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

Oh, what the fuck. 

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

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

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

But you didn’t know how to begin to. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you realize how close you are to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RING. RING. RING. 

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

The department head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was this fate versus free will? 

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

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

And so maybe he should let it. 

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

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

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

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

Just as you always were it seemed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-” 

“It was unspoken—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RING. RING. RING. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

[obsesssedblerd]

"Who's your new teacher?"

Synopsis: Toji meets Megumi's new preschool teacher and immediately develops a crush.

Pairings: single dad! toji x f! reader

Wc: 2.3K

Contains: plenty of fluff, crack, a tiny bit of angst, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, toji is still toji (but like he's soft for his kids and he takes care of them), reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, toji being soft, mentions of shiu, shiu and toji work together, shiu being an idiot (lol sorry he'll get love in another fic) , everyone is happy bc I said so

a/n: omg, first fic, we made it! barely proofread, sorry for mistakes. also, tysm for 1,000 followers here! the other two fics that were on that poll will be coming soon!

update: pt 2 here

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Toji’s Fushiguro’s muscles ache. The job he took was harder than he anticipated, and it took way longer than it was supposed to. After confirming that the payment from the job is in his account, he calls Shiu Kong so he could check in on the kids. “About damn time,” Shiu scoffs when the line connects. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from you until sunrise.” 

“Job’s done,” Toji says as he gets into his car, settling into the drivers’ seat with an exhausted sigh. “I hear the TV in the background. Better be cartoons or something age-appropriate.” 

Shiu laughs. “Of course, what else? ‘M not getting cussed out by you. Anyway, you comin’ back with Megumi? Can’t believe you took him on the job with you. Once you’re back, I can get out of here.” 

Toji’s heart nearly stops. He sits up in his seat, gripping the phone so hard that the screen nearly cracks from his strength. “The fuck did you just say?” 

“Huh?” 

“Megumi isn’t with you?!” Toji’s voice booms in the car. On the other line, he hears Shiu gulp. “I… I thought he was with you.” 

“You idiot! I asked you to pick him up from preschool around the same time you pick up Tsumiki from her school because I knew this would take a while!” 

“You did?!” Shiu asks, and then it goes quiet; him more than likely flipping through his messages to double check. “...Shit,” he breathes out. 

Toji inhales sharply, then exhales shakily in an attempt to calm the rage, and even the fear that pools in his gut. “If anything has happened to my fucking son, Kong, I will murder you and make your death look like an accident. Keep an eye on Tsumiki.” 

“Fushiguro, I swear, I-” Toji hangs up before Shiu can explain himself further, then he starts the car. 

He grips the steering wheel hard, and his breathing picks up as his mind spins with every horrific scenario possible. The preschool closes at six thirty. It was close to nine. He didn’t see any missed calls from them. On a normal day, he’d be done before work with plenty of time to pick up his four year-old son, but today’s job was far more difficult and required more time. 

The car speeds down the street leading to his destination. He’s half-expecting to see Megumi sitting outside with his backpack, clinging to his dog plushie and crying. Or worse, he’s not there at all; because this world is full of terrible people, and they won’t hesitate to steal a small, unsupervised boy. His heart aches at the thought, and he shoves it away before he feels the need to throw up. He’ll be okay, he thinks to himself. Everything is going to be fine. 

—

When Toji arrives at the preschool, he rushedly parks lopsidedly in the lot, then exits the car. His eyes scan the steps leading up to the front, and when he doesn’t see Megumi outside, he rushes to the door. 

He sees a security guard in a booth, and before Toji can even ask any questions, the guard gives him a small smile and nod, pressing a button that unlocks the door to the preschool with a click. Toji’s shoulders slump in relief. They were expecting him. That meant Megumi is still here and safe. 

Toji nods back at the guard in thanks, and rushes down the dimly-lit hallway. He sees a light coming from a classroom that still has its door open, and he slows his steps when he hears a child giggling. His child. 

Then it’s followed up by a beautiful, melodic laugh that makes him stop in his tracks. It’s a lovely sound; one that his heart skips to, and one that gently rings in his ears even plenty of seconds after it stops. 

Toji peeks into the classroom to see Megumi comfortably resting in a pillow fort, and you, kneeling beside a lamp and using your hands to make shadow puppets on the wall to entertain him. “Alright,” you say softly as you rearrange your hands and fingers. “What’s this one?” 

You smile as you watch Megumi hum thoughtfully, and Toji is transfixed by you. Who are you? Where did you come from? Since when did Megumi get a new teacher? Why is your smile so bright and so beautiful that the sun would envy? Why is his heart beating wildly in his chest at the sight of you? Fuck, why is he staring? 

“Ooh!” Megumi gasps as he figures out the animal you made with your hands. “Rabbit!” 

“Correct, great job!” You reach forward and give him a high-five. “I think you’ll really like this next one,” you say, and Megumi giggles again as he sits up, completely focused and ready to guess. “Ready?” You ask, and the boy nods. 

Toji crosses his arms, quietly leans against the door of the classroom, and watches, unaware of the soft smile that creeps onto his face. When you put your hands in front of the light, and the shape of the animal displays in front of Megumi, he squeals excitedly and stands up. “Doggy!” He shouts with a wide grin and pulls up his favorite dog plushie that he takes with him everywhere, imitating the sounds a dog would make. You break out into laughter, and Toji nearly stops breathing so he can fully take in the sound of it again.

Beautiful, he thinks. You’re so fucking beautiful. 

Megumi’s eyes flicker towards the door, and he gasps before running as fast as he can towards Toji. “Papa!” 

“Hey, Megs.” Toji kneels down, hugs the small boy against his chest before picking him up in his strong arms, sighing in relief as he runs a hand through his dark hair. He’s okay, and he doesn’t look too upset that he was here for this long. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Are you alright?” 

“Yeah!” Megumi pulls away, then gestures towards you, who watched the tender reunion with a sweet smile. “Ms. [Y/L/N] played so many fun games with me!” 

“Aw, I’m so happy you had fun, Megumi.” You take a step closer so you’re standing in front of Toji, slightly lifting your head upward to meet his eyes due to his height. “We tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail. Megumi said that it does that sometimes. He took a nap earlier, but I’m sure he’ll be sleepy soon after all of those games. I also gave him dinner earlier.” 

“That’s… I just-” Toji struggles to find words, especially when you slightly tilt your head to the side and blink slowly. He exhales, then snaps himself out of his daze. “Thank you so much,” he says. “Are you new? I swear, I’m not usually this late.” Great. Megumi’s pretty teacher might think I’m just the worst parent on this damn planet. 

You nod. “Yes, I’m new. Today was my first day with this angel,” You use a finger to gently boop Megumi’s nose, and he smiles, shyly burying his face into Toji’s shoulder, “and the other kids. I figured you might’ve been held up at work or something. It’s okay. Things happen. Besides, he’s such a well-behaved kid. I didn’t mind spending this much time with him.” 

Toji places Megumi on the ground, then gently taps his shoulder. “Let’s grab your stuff, okay?” As he helps Megumi pack his backpack, Toji bites back a smile when he sees you watching him out of the corner of his eye. He notes the way you fiddle with your hands and avert your gaze after catching yourself. 

You walk over to your desk and open a drawer, pulling out three suckers from a sealed jar. Once Megumi had all of his things packed, you kneel before him, handing him the suckers one by one. “Here you go. One for you, one for your sister, and one for your dad. I can tell he works really, really hard.” 

Toji doesn’t hide his smile this time; it was impossible, especially when Megumi accepts them excitedly. “Candy! Thank you!” He hugs you gently, and you return it, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “You’re so welcome. Thanks for being so sweet today. You made my first day so fun.” 

A muffled gasp coming from outside has the three of you looking towards the window. Toji sees Tsumiki’s face squished against the glass with her usual, excited smile, and Shiu Kong standing beside her, looking relieved when he sees Megumi safe and sound. He purposely avoids Toji’s glare. 

The sound of Megumi’s small yawn gets his attention, and Toji’s gaze softens when the boy rubs his tired eyes. “Aw, ‘m sorry. It’s past your bedtime. Let’s get you home.” He leans down to pick him up again, and once you have your belongings, the two of you leave the building together. 

When you three make it outside, you face Toji and Megumi. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Megumi,” you say quietly to him, who is slowly beginning to drift off. Then you look up at Toji, who is softly smiling at you. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, too, right?” You ask.

“Yeah, you will.” 

You wave goodbye, and Toji makes sure you get into your car safely. “Hey, Megs,” Toji gently shakes Megumi as he watches you drive out of the parking lot. “Do you know her name?” 

“Ms. [Y/L/N]” 

He chuckles. “No, kid, her first name.” 

“I dunno,” Megumi mumbles before closing his eyes and resting his cheek on Toji’s shoulder. “Sleepy, papa.” 

“Ah, there they are!” Shiu exclaims, and Toji would’ve thrown a punch if his son wasn’t in his arms, and if his seven year-old daughter wasn’t happily skipping towards him. “Hi, papa!” 

“Hi, sweets, how was school today?” 

“Good,” Tsumiki says, then grins mischievously as she points to the spot where your car was just a minute ago. “You like her!” She teases. “You wanna hug her and kiss her and give her chocolates!” 

“Alright, you.” Toji rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he uses his free arm to lift up a giggly Tsumiki, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “Both of you should be in bed. Let’s get home.” 

“Aw, okay.” Tsumiki then leans forward to gently kiss her sleeping baby brother’s cheek. “Night, Gumi.” 

Toji secures both Tsumiki and Megumi in his car, and then faces Shiu, who is smiling nervously. “Well, look at that. Megumi’s doing great and you even developed a crush. How cute. All’s well that ends well.” 

“Very cute, but guess what?” 

“What?” 

Toji finally throws a swift punch at Shiu’s jaw, greatly holding back his strength so it wouldn’t break. Shiu stumbles, then groans, cupping his face with his hands. “Okay, fine, I deserved that.” 

“Damn right,” Toji says as he opens the door to the driver’s seat. “See you later.” 

—

Toji almost never stresses about his appearance in the mornings. After all, it was just dropping off the kids. But this morning, he frets over which shirt would look better with the jeans he picked out, if he should wear a different type of cologne, or if he should slick his hair back. 

All because he’s seeing you again. 

He decides to skip the new cologne and go for his usual, simple one, dresses in a dark shirt to match the jeans, and also ditches the idea of slicking his hair. Once the kids are ready for the day, he leaves early and goes to a coffee shop to pick up a medium cup of coffee. First, he drops Tsumiki off at school, then he takes Megumi to preschool. 

Toji spots you almost immediately. You were out in the front amongst the other preschool teachers, parents and their kids, wearing a gorgeous yellow top and simple blue jeans. When you see Toji and Megumi approaching, you pause your conversation with your coworker and walk over to them. Toji decides that he likes that, and that he loves the way you kneel in front of Megumi to meet his eye level, telling him good morning and asking if he was excited for the day. 

You raise to your feet, Toji hands you the cup of coffee he purchased earlier. “For you,” he says, “As a thank you for everything yesterday.” 

“Aw.” Your eyes light up as you accept the cup. “Mr. Fushiguro, this—” 

“Toji,” he corrects softly, and he ignores the way his heart stutters when your smile grows. 

“Well, Toji, this is lovely. Thank you so much.” 

“I never caught your name last night.” 

You tell him your name, and Toji tests it once. From the way you shyly avert your gaze, he can tell you that like the way it sounds in his voice. Megumi clears his throat, and Toji looks down to see him staring up at him, his brow raised in suspicion. “You never stay this long. Don’t you have to go to work?” 

Damn, kid. Thought we were on the same team. 

You laugh as Toji rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Megumi—a gesture that the four year-old returns immediately. “Well, he’s right, gotta get going,” Toji says, looking back up at you. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yes.” You nod, then point to the warm cup in your hands. “Thanks again for the coffee. Have a great day at work.” 

“You too.” Toji then gently ruffles Megumi’s hair. “Be good.” 

He doesn’t realize how big he’s smiling until he’s back in the car, and he sighs as he remembers Shiu’s words from the night before. A crush. That word seems so silly. He’s not a teen in high school. Toji looks up just in time to watch you take Megumi’s hand and lead him inside the building with the other children, and he chuckles to himself as he starts the car up.

Maybe “silly” was okay when you’re this pretty.