#college AU

[smolerthanthediagram]

First nap of the day.

Needed to do a college AU Jayvic piece since i saw this one.

[demonic-x-sorcerers]

"Really? Then...I got models back home, you will love! I haven't opened them yet, but I was planning to. But be warned, it's a long time to put everything together, but...it helps me relax. Like building a sculpture." Rioto said.

"Usually..when I spend time with a person..I uh...really like." Rioto blushes a little, "I just like hanging out with them and going wherever they like to do. Just relaxing and um...holding hands."

"Oh come on, it's not boring. I wouldn't mind seeing you working on one of your mecha models. Maybe some new ones that you have. Or maybe I can help you build one together." Yuta looks to him but he didn't mind that. "As for the other things, i would still find whatever you wanna do something to keep us busy. It still something fun.."

[mintish0]

P2 is out on Patreon 🫡

[frid4y]

the big brick frat house that you always pass on your walks to class, seemingly silent during the day time. mainly because your class is at 8 am sharp. but the loud party music and sound of drunk college kids buzzing in your ear after 10 pm every night never goes unnoticed.

you've been inside a few times, always during a party, and while you were on the verge of blackout drunk. your memory is very faint on the boys in the frat, only knowing of the most notorious, satoru gojo. he's the apparently typical whore, the rumors of him fucking everything in sight swirling around. you never took the time to listen, it wasn't any of your business.

until you met him at one of his parties. you got a vibe from him, and it didn't scream slut. although his attempt of it was painfully obvious. the subtle attempts to talk about how rich he was, how he's always partying with girls, how everyone is dying to hang out with him, how "experienced" he was..if this was his way of attracting women, they must all be fucking idiots. and you mayy be one of 'em.

it wasn't until you were in his obnoxiously large bedroom, straddling his muscular thighs in an intense make out session that you realized.. "he's anything but a whore, he's a little virgin..” what made it obvious? his nervousness when you entered his bedroom, his inability to figure out where on your body to keep his hands, and the wet patch forming at the front of his jeans. he came in his pants, just from kissing you.

"o-okay.. i may have exaggerated.. but i can figure it out! i'm a fast learner! just s-show me what to do.." he stammers out, the space between his brows creasing as he stares up at your expression. you giggle at his flustered reaction, i mean.. it was obvious to anyone who paid enough attention past the facade.

"it's okay... for now, just sit there and look pretty. k?" you say, your fingers at the hem of his shirt, lifting it off his upper body. he obediently nods while watching his t-shirt quickly be thrown somewhere in his room. fuck, you were gonna have fun with him.

and that you did. his loud incoherent moans and whimpers about how good your pussy feels. satoru lays under you, his eyes glazed over as he stares into yours as you ride him. he keeps his hands on your hips to guide you up and down his length, seeing how it was a struggle to get his thick cock inside you. it's always the virgins, isn't it?

“n-nghh, so good..fuck I cantt—be gentle..” satoru whines, his toes curling at the newfound pleasure he’s experiencing. his fingers dig into your skin as he babbles on, his mind foggy and only focused on the feeling of you wrapped around him. his white lashes fluttering as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

his delirious words of encouragement trail into soft moans as his grip slips from your hips to your thighs, using his big hands to guide you along his dick again. his abs flex as he feels your cunt clenching around him, causing his lips to part in pure desire and arousal.

satoru’s moans get louder at every roll and bounce of your hips. his brain is genuinely fried, reduced to base instinct. he whimpers as you slow your movements, feeling every inch of his cock while it throbs inside you. “shit.. j-just like t-that. i’m gonna c-cum baby—don’t stop..” his voice gets higher as his eyes get low and glossy.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck—” is the last thing you hear before you feel his cum fill you, his cock twitching inside you and his hips bucking up to chase the feeling. such weak pullout game. satoru lies there, his chest heaving as he comes down from his high.

“i think i love you-“

[seafoamheart]

College Fiddlestan !!

AU by @golden-berry <3

[heyitsnaardi]

JayVik based on my recently uploaded fanfic "Collaborative Work"! A slow burn 00s romcom inspired college AU. Yes, it is basically that lmaooo. Link for it on the replies!

[lukosei]

I’ll take this model…… and DRAW IT 🗣️🗣️✍️

(erm so I accidentally made light left handed here because for whatever reason I flipped the ref pic of him writing I guess ???? And I don’t want to flip the final image cause it just wouldn’t feel the same so I suppose maybe he’s just trying to show off here and that’s why he’s not holding it with his dominant hand. Explains why he ends up dropping it too)

[cherry-coffees]

Head Over Heels

academic rival!Caitlyn x reader

cw: 7.7K words | 18+ mdni, academic rivals, college AU, rivals to lovers, drunken confessions, college parties, mentions of drinking, kissing/oral sex/tribbing, top!Caitlyn, slight praise kink, fluff and smut with angst if you squint

Part 1 | Part 2

You get the party invitation on a Thursday night.

“Did you see this?” Your roommate, Powder, squeals as she enters the dorm room, shaking the leftover rainwater off of her boots before setting them on the shoe rack by the door. She emerges into the double room that you share, holding up a small piece of paper. “Someone slipped this under our door. There’s a huge rager tomorrow, and they’re letting anyone in.”

You’re sitting on your bed, your laptop open to some homework that’s due in a few hours. “I don’t know,” you straighten up to stretch out your back. “Ragers aren’t that fun. Everyone’s just drunk and messy.”

“That’s why you’ve got to get drunk and messy,” Powder grins, stepping over to your bed to tug at one of your blankets teasingly.

You just roll your eyes, barely glancing up from your assignment. “And get super hung over so that I throw up all night? No thanks.”

“Come on,” Powder’s voice turns whiny as she pouts. She hugs the edge of your bed frame as she flashes you her signature puppy-eyes. “Please? We can get ready and walk together. And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone you like there.”

You don’t miss the insinuation in her tone. “I don’t need to like someone,” you claim, tapping away on the keys of your laptop. Though, you can’t help the brief flash that goes through your mind: the memory of Caitlyn guiding you around the ice rink in her arms and holding your hand as you walked back to the dorms. 

That was the last time you saw her outside of class. Caitlyn Kiramman: the girl who once seemed to be the most annoying person in all of Runeterra, your fiercest academic rival, had now claimed a soft spot of her own in your heart. You hate to admit it, you really do. But you can’t deny that she’s gradually taken up more and more space in your mind over the past week or so, carving her initials into her mind like she’s staking a claim on your affections. Maybe she is.

Powder, of course, doesn’t know this — given as she’s not the biggest fan of Caitlyn herself. All she knows is the way you used to vent about her like you were getting paid. Now, you can’t seem to stop thinking about her like you’re getting paid.

“Of course you don’t,” Powder huffs, maintaining her puppy eyes. “Just— please? You need to get out more, get away from studying all the time.”

“Fine.” You can’t help but give in to your roommate’s demands. You’ve always been too fond of her. “I’ll go. Just let me finish my homework.” 

You ignore her cheer of celebration, opting to turn back to your unfinished work. Maybe the party will be a good distraction from all your feelings towards a certain Councilor’s daughter.

|------» ~~~ «------|

“You okay?”

“Huh?” You glance up from where you’ve been taking notes on what your professor’s been lecturing about in class today. You had barely noticed when he called for a five minute break, the other students chatting amicably around you.

“You looked like you were spacing out,” Caitlyn’s icy blue eyes are laser-focused on you right now as she tilts her head in question. Her navy blue ponytail swings to the side, and gods, why does she look so good with a messy updo? It’s unfair, really. Who gave this girl so much beauty? 

“Oh,” you blink, shaking your head slightly as if to clear the fog from it. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a long day.”

“I see,” Caitlyn murmurs, her gaze seeming to study you. Strangely, you feel the urge to squirm under it. Holy shit, what is happening to you? Thankfully, she continues to speak. “You should sleep earlier tonight. Get some rest.”

“Ah,” you bite the inside of your cheek, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall of the classroom once more. “I was going to, but my roommate’s dragging me to some party.”

Caitlyn’s dark eyebrows furrow, trying to discern if she’s heard about this before. “Party?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning your elbows on the desk in front of you. “Some huge rager. Everyone will be there, according to her. I think she just wants me to meet people or whatever.”

Meet people.

Those two words stick out in Caitlyn’s mind, and her not-so-helpful brain decides to conjure up an image of you in some hot dress being hit on by all these guys. Or girls. Or anyone, really.

She doesn’t like it.

“Meet people as— as friends, or…?” Caitlyn chooses her words carefully, not wanting to tip you off as to why she’s so curious about this in the first place. That would lead to a very long, awkward conversation about her feelings for you, and she has no idea what your response would be. Maybe you’d be weirded out and never talk to her again, and that would be the worst case scenario. 

“I guess,” you shrug, eyes dropping back down to look back through your carefully-taken notes. “It’s whatever. I’ll just go for a little and ditch when everyone gets too drunk to function.”

“Right,” Caitlyn clears her throat. She can’t help the words that fall from her lips in that moment: too focused on the possibility of someone winning you over tonight. “I’m actually going, too.”

You glance back up at her, thoroughly confused. Hadn’t she just asked you what party you were talking about? “You are?”

“Yeah,” she nods enthusiastically, and once she’s started talking, she can’t seem to stop. “I think I heard about it earlier in the week. I forgot about it, but if your roommate says that everyone will be there, then I should go too. My friend will, um, be there. Probably.”

You can’t help but smile in spite of yourself. Caitlyn’s always so composed and proper with that posh accent of hers, but somehow, she’s grown more awkward around you lately: fumbling her words like a pre-teen talking to their crush for the first time.

You quickly blink away that thought as soon as it occurs. You can’t even entertain the idea that the way Caitlyn’s been acting around you is something akin to a crush. Sure, she taught you how to skate last week, but…

But that doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. No, that can’t be possible.

“Oh,” you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. Now, you have a whole other worry about tonight: the worry that Caitlyn is going to be there. So much for a distraction from your growing feelings for her. “I guess I’ll see you there, then.”

“Yeah,” Caitlyn’s eyes are drawn to your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling a sudden spark of desire flicker in her chest. As the professor stands back up to continue on with class, she turns back to her own notes. “I’ll see you then.”

|------» ~~~ «------|

Clang!

You curse silently, bending down to pick up the hanger that had fallen from your closet. You’ve been going through outfit ideas for the past twenty minutes, unsure of what you should wear to a huge college party. A dress seems too formal, but you don’t want to be too casual either. 

And now? Now that Caitlyn, your longtime academic rival turned crush, is going to be there? You have to look decent.

“Why are you so stressed?” Powder leans over your shared sink, applying shiny, blue eyeshadow to her eyelids. 

You huff, continuing to rummage through your clothes. “I don’t know what to wear. I can’t look like a mess.”

“You didn’t even want to come until I forced you.”

“Yeah, well,” you roll your eyes. “Things change. Now, what the hell am I supposed to wear?”

Powder pauses her makeup, coming up beside you took look inside your closet. “That top’s cute,” she comments, pointing to a light, blue-grey top. The upper half of the top is solid material, while the bottom half that covers your abdomen is a soft mesh. It’s strapless: highlighting your collarbone just right.

You consider this, grabbing the hanger from the closet rack. “What bottom would go with it, though?”

“Maybe a skirt,” Powder ponders out loud, shuffling through the hangers until she finds a short, black skirt. The sides are laced up to accentuate your waist, and the length is short enough to be suggestive without being explicit. It pairs extremely well with the lighter top — though you hate to admit that Powder was right.

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking the skirt as well and darting off to change. Sue you if you want to look presentable in front of half the school.

Though, it’s really only about one person.

|------» ~~~ «------|

“Stop tugging at your hair,” Powder elbows you as you walk up the steps to the party’s location: a big house that’s a few blocks from your dorm. “You’ll mess it up.”

You stop at her protest, opting to adjust the face-framing strands on either side of your cheeks instead. “Okay, okay. Let’s just go in, already.”

At that moment, both of you enter through the unlocked front door of the house. It’s already wild: music blasting and red solo cups full of alcohol being passed around. There’s a group of people crowded in one of the common areas, dancing in front of the speakers, and couples paired up around the place to make out.

You can barely hear anything, not knowing where to go as Powder pats your shoulder. She says something about wanting to say ‘hi’ to some people before she darts off, leaving you alone in the middle of the party.

You just roll your eyes, heading off to find the kitchen. As much as you don’t want to be around your totally-wasted peers, you’re not sure if you can make it through the night without having a few drinks yourself.

As you manage to find the kitchen, pouring yourself a cup of what looks like vodka, you thankfully recognize someone you know from one of your classes last semester. “Mel!” You wave her over, grinning at the sight of your friend.

“Hey!” Mel greets you cheerfully, gold dust adorning her cheeks. “You look amazing.”

“You’re gorgeous,” you beam at her. “As always. I’m so glad I know someone here.”

“Know someone? Almost everyone is here,” Mel laughs, clinking her cup with yours. “Let’s just relax and have a good time. Yes?”

“Yes.” You sip from your cup, making a face of disgust as soon as the vodka hits your tastebuds. This is going to be a long night.

|------» ~~~ «------|

It turns out, in fact, to not be such a long night. It’s a very short one, actually.

You’ve had alcohol before, but not like this. You aren’t even aware of how much you’ve had — it’s hard to calculate how many shots deep you are when you had poured some vodka into a red solo cup without thinking. You’re laughing with Mel and a few of the friends she’s introduced you to before you feel a tap on your shoulder. You spin around, your smile slowly turning into an expression of surprise.

“Oh,” your breath catches as you come face-to-face with Caitlyn. She’s dressed differently, too, with her light-wash ripped jeans and cropped, navy blue top that’s held up by thin spaghetti straps. Her matching navy hair falls to her shoulders. And, with her icy-blue gaze piercing yours, you only have one thought.

Oh, I’m so screwed.

“Hey,” Caitlyn’s eyes are practically glued to you, too busy taking in your appearance to notice your reaction to her own. “Um, I hope I’m not interrupting. I just wanted to say ‘hi.’"

You shake your head, quick to reassure her. The alcohol hasn’t hit super hard yet, so unfortunately, your nerves of being around her still surface.  “You’re not; don’t worry.”

“Good.” Caitlyn can’t help it when her stare travels down to take in your exposed legs and back up to your shoulders and collarbone. “You look…”

She trails off, and you really hope the flush on your cheeks is from the vodka instead of her. “Thanks,” you mumble, shifting in your black, platform boots. Even with the added height, you’re still short compared to her 6’1” stature. “I love your top.”

“Oh, thank you." Caitlyn seems to realize that she’s staring. She clears her throat, tugging at one of the straps of the mentioned top and eyeing the red solo cup in your hand. She hesitates, not wanting to be too forward. "Did you end up meeting people like your roommate wanted?”

It’s the question that’s been on Caitlyn’s mind ever since she had seen you in class several hours ago. Gods, she really hopes that you haven’t met anyone that you’re interested in flirting with — or even worse: hooking up with. That’s the last thing that she wants.

You sigh, shaking your head. “That was just an excuse to get me to come with her. I’ve just been talking to my friend,” you assure her, gesturing back towards where Mel is standing with a few other people.

Caitlyn’s stomach swoops with relief, her shoulder loosing a little tension. “Well, if that’s the case, do you want to maybe dance together?”

In all honesty, being tipsy around Caitlyn is not a great idea, but you nod anyways. More so, you just don’t want to say no to her. How could you ever? “Yeah, sure.”

Caitlyn starts to turn towards the direction of the living room, but she pauses when she glances back at you again. This time, it’s her turn for her cheeks to flush pink. “Okay,” she mumbles before hesitantly reaching out, slipping her hand into yours. 

Your heart flips in your chest as you allow her to lace her fingers with yours. You glance up at her, almost questioning. As if to ask: is this an okay thing to do? 

Memories come flooding back to you, even in your tipsy haze in the middle of this huge party. Caitlyn taking you ice skating, teaching you how to skate when you admitted to not knowing how to, buying you hot chocolate and walking back to your dorm. How warm her fingers had felt intertwined with yours against the cold, winter air. It was the first time you saw her as more than your academic rival — as someone you could actually develop feelings for.

The corners of Caitlyn’s lips twitch into a slight smile, and she squeezes your hand ever so slightly. It’s a silent response. She just tugs you forward, back towards the common area where people are surrounding the speakers, moving around to the beat of the music. 

You follow her as she makes her way into the crowd. Once you’re closer to the speakers, Caitlyn spins around to face you, flashing you a grin that would make you go weak at the knees if you weren’t so out of it right now. She lifts your linked hands above your head, twirling you just to make you giggle. The space between you doesn’t last long: the distance minimizing as the crowd forces the two of you together. You stay like that for a few songs: just laughing and having fun together. 

The alcohol hits you mid-way: everything suddenly feeling a lot more foggy than usual. Somewhere in the haze, Caitlyn’s hands find their way to your waist, supporting you in the increasingly hot and stuffy room. You feel a rush of gratitude as you lean on her for support. Though, as your sobriety starts to lower, so does your filter.

As Caitlyn feels your weight on her, she lifts her hands to cup your jaw, tilting your face up towards her in concern. “Are you okay? You seem quite tipsy, darling.”

Darling.

It’s the first time she’s called you that, called you anything besides 'annoying' or 'infuriating' to your face. It sounds so right in that accent of hers that just screams luxury. So you can’t help the intoxicated smile that graces your features, your head leaving her hold as it fully rests on her chest. “I like that,” your words are barely audible over the loud music. 

“You like what?” Caitlyn bites her lip. She’s unsure of what you mean, and she’s even more unsure of what to do now that your head is on her chest. It’s something straight out of one of her recent dreams (though, admittedly, those usually involved quieter, more intimate settings). Now, surrounded by many of your university peers, she doesn’t know what to do. You’ve clearly had a little too much to drink.

“You calling me that,” you hum, finding some weird contentment amongst the chaos. Somehow, when you’re practically nestled against your academic rival, no one else seems to matter. “It’s nice.”

“Ah—“ Caitlyn’s eyes widen, her words getting caught in her throat. Sure, she’s held your hand twice now, but this implies something more. It implies that you like her more than just academic rivals turned friends. “You’re drunk,” she exhales, her hands moving to your waist again. 

“And you’re warm,” you nudge your nose into her neck, which seems very warm and very appealing right now. 

Caitlyn has to swallow thickly and take a deep breath in order to compose herself. It’d be so easy to bring her lips to yours right now, to take you away from this party and have you in the way she’s wanted to for so long — but she doesn’t. You’re drunk, and if there’s one thing Caitlyn values, it’s your consent.

But oh, how she wants.

“We should—“ her voice shakes slightly. “We should get you out of here. You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to get hurt or—“

“You’re sweet,” you mumble, barely noticing as Caitlyn gently moves you back through the throng of people. “But I wanna dance.”

“I know, darling, but we can dance another time. I’m going to walk you back to your dorm now, okay?”

“What?” You tilt your head in an almost-protest as she guides you towards the door. “You don’t have to do that. ‘M fine.”

“No,” Caitlyn’s tone is gentle, but she’s firm in her decision. She pushes open the front door, ushering you into the cold, night air. “I want to, so please let me. Just let me take care of you.”

“Mnh–“ You're not in any state to argue as she leads you out of the house. "'Kay."

|------» ~~~ «------|

It’s not long before you’re fumbling for your keys outside your dorm, attempting to stick the key in the doorknob a few times before you can unlock it. It opens with a click, and you stumble over to the light switch.

Caitlyn keeps a firm hand on your arm as she shuts the door and guides you over to your bed. Now that the room is illuminated with light, she takes in the decor. Soft, fuzzy blankets are piled on your bed, and printed-out photos adorn the wall next to it. In between the strands of fairy lights that glow faintly, she can see the camera-ready smiles of your family and friends. Cute.

She helps you into your lofted bed, in your party outfit and all since you’re in no mood to get ready for bed. Once she’s sure that you’re settled and laying down, Caitlyn crosses the room, turning the lights back off and fishing in the cabinets under the sink for a paper bag. When she finds one, she sets it next to your water bottle on the desk beside your bed. “If you have to throw up, just use this, okay?”

Your eyes are half-closed already as you glance at her hazily from your pillows. “M’kay.”

“Right,” Caitlyn mumbles. “Goodnight, then.” She lingers by your bed for a second, unwilling to leave you. She doesn’t want you to be alone, but staying in her crush’s room when she’s drunk would be inappropriate. After a few moments, she sighs reluctantly, moving to the door.

“Caitlyn?”

Her head whips back to look at you in an almost comical speed. “Yes?”

Your eyes slip shut, already half-asleep. “You’re really pretty.”

“Um,” a pink hue springs up on Caitlyn’s cheeks almost immediately. “Thank you. But you should probably get some rest—“

“You don’t get it.” You huff almost indignantly, eyes still closed. In your tipsy state, you don’t comprehend how she’s not understanding. “You’re really pretty. Whoever you’re with is so lucky.”

…

What?

“Whoever I’m—?“ Caitlyn chokes out in complete surprise, her eyes blown wide. She takes a few steps until she’s beside your bed again. Your expression is sleepy and relaxed: giving nothing away. “What do you mean?”

Unfortunately, the land of dreams is calling to you, and you’re only conscious enough to let out a sleepy hum in response. Seconds later, and you’re gone.

Caitlyn stands frozen in the middle of your dorm room. What the fuck was that? What did your words even mean? You probably just meant that whatever girl she dated was lucky to have someone to walk her home.

Or, her brain supplies helpfully, she could have meant that any girl that I date is lucky because she gets me entirely.

You couldn’t have meant that. Could you?

But the more Caitlyn stands alone in the dark room, pondering the hidden meaning behind your drunken words, the less she can deny the obvious. You have to feel something, you just have to. Up until a few weeks ago, all you would do is glare at her whenever she walked into a classroom. But now…

Now, something has changed. She casts a final glimpse back at you before she’s stepping out into the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind her.

She’ll be damned if she doesn’t find out what that something is.

|------» ~~~ «------|

You wake up with a pounding headache.

Shit. You hadn’t wanted to go to this party in the first place because of all the drunk idiots. How had you turned into one of them?

You bring a hand up to rub at your temples, trying to recall what had happened last night. Arriving with Powder, laughing with Mel, vodka, and… oh.

Caitlyn.

It doesn’t take long to recall the basics. How she had complimented you in your outfit, taken your hand to lead you to dance, how you had ended up leaning against her chest until she walked you back to your dorm. 

Your stomach drops, in particular, as you remember your parting words to her. Whoever she’s with is lucky? You might has well have just shouted from the rooftops that you’re in love with her. Gods, what have you done?

You sit upright in bed, wincing as your head continues to pound. No vomiting, thankfully, but you sure as hell need water and a few Advil pills right now. 

Once you’ve retrieved the essentials in your bathroom, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Makeup smeared, messy hair, and your outfit from last night still clinging to your tired form. You groan, grabbing a makeup wipe as well before you walk past a sleeping Powder and back to your bed — where your phone awaits.

You have several message notifications from various friends and classmates. Some from Mel, asking where you had gone last night, and some from your family at home. Most noticeably, a single notification sits at the top of your screen.

Caitlyn Kiramman: Hey, How are you feeling?

You curse silently as so not to wake Powder, biting your tongue as you think of what you could possibly say to the girl you were fawning over last night. 

Hey. I’m okay. 

You hesitate, your thumbs pausing over your phone keyboard before you send a follow-up message.

Thanks for helping me last night.

You stare at your screen, waiting on bated breath for her response. You see the little three dots pop up on her end, indicating her typing. Yet, seconds later, it disappears. You barely have time to frown down at your phone screen before it reappears.

Caitlyn Kiramman: No problem.

Then, silence.

That was it?

Your phone screen fades to black as you set it face-down on your desk. You lay down on your bed, bringing your knees to your chest to curl up in fetal position. Maybe you did ruin everything. Back when the two of you were just academic rivals, such short conversations were the norm (though they were far more passive aggressive). 

However, in recent times, Caitlyn had been much more attentive over text. It’s yet another one of the things you’ve come to love about her: when her perfectly-poised composure falters, and you can see the awkward girl underneath. It’s endearing. And now— now, you have a hangover, and an empty stomach, and Caitlyn is being dry after your subtle confession.

You will yourself into sleeping for another few hours, tossing and turning as your mind fills with thoughts of her and only her. How good, how right it had felt when you were pressed against her, and how much you had hoped to feel that again. When the images of all the possibilities that could entail flood your mind, you finally open your eyes again.

“What’s with you?” Powder asks groggily from across the room, sitting up in bed with a blue tuft of hair falling in front of her face. “It’s not even ten, but you can’t even lay still.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, staring at your turned-off phone as if you can physically will another text to come through. Namely, from a certain navy-haired sharpshooter.

“Did something happen at the party?” Powder guesses correctly, her tone not unkind as she eyes your expression. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

“You won’t like my answer.”

“I won’t?” She tilts her head, curiosity peaked. “Well, now you have to tell me.”

You just sigh, too tired to push back. “It’s Caitlyn.”

“Caitlyn Kiramman?” Powder wrinkles her nose. She’s not fond of Caitlyn — often chalking her up to some rich girl that thrives off of her mother’s money and name. “Your academic rival? Who cares about her? Don’t let her work you up; you’re better than her.”

“She’s not—“ you cut yourself off, reminding yourself that you’re supposed to be explaining rather than defending the woman. “Look. I know you don’t like her. But she’s the one who helped me back here last night. She’s walked me home and paid for me and been so sweet and respectful towards me. As I’ve spent more time with her, I— well, I guess I—“

“You like her,” Powder finishes. Her gaze is just a tinge softer than when you had started.

You drop your head, staring at the blankets covering your lap. “Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before Powder continues carefully. “So…what happened?”

“I fucked things up,” your response is immediate, and unwanted tears burn your eyes. You know it's stupid to cry over this, but being hung over is not helping. “I think she knows I like her. I was so messy last night, and I’m worried that I crossed a line and that now she hates me.”

Too busy staring at your bed, you don’t notice Powder getting up until a soft thump is heard from her side of the room. Your eyes dart up to see her weary form cross over to your bed. “Look,” she pats your knee. “This isn’t me saying that I like her — or that you should be with her. But I think you should talk to her. Otherwise, you’re never going to know.”

“Do I even want to know if she hates me?”

Powder just shakes her head. “Look, I doubt that she hates you. If she’s really done all the things you say she has, then it sounds like she likes you too.”

You hesitate, picking at your fingernails anxiously. “She’s just always been... more forward than I am, I guess. Then I make a drunken confession and she isn’t acting the same.”

“Then isn’t it your turn to be forward?”

A beat passes before you nod slowly. Powder’s words make sense. As much as you dislike the anxiety of actually confessing to Caitlyn, you owe her as much after all she’s done for you. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Powder grins, evidently happy that you’re actually listening to her. “Then go find her.”

“Like this?” You pout slightly, gesturing to your outfit and messy hair — though your face is now clean from the previous makeup.

“Yeah, the outfit’s cute. Because I picked it out, of course.”

“Alright, alright,” you can’t help a roll of your eyes, finally succumbing to the urge to pick up your phone and send a message.

Can we talk?

|------» ~~~ «------|

You find Caitlyn on a bench outside of her dorm building. 

It’s nice out, especially for winter: the sun warming you despite the cold air. She had responded to your text only a few minutes after you had sent it, so you’re still wearing the same outfit from the party — as Powder had suggested.

Caitlyn doesn’t miss this detail. Her blue eyes seem to shine in the sunlight as her gaze flits over your top and short skirt, though her eyes flick back to yours a second later. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you respond quietly, sitting on the opposite side of the bench. There’s distance between you two: distance you long to close. But you don’t. Instead, it’s quiet for a few moments, the only sounds being the distant sounds of other college students walking around the campus.

“I want to apologize,” you shift slightly, head turning slightly upwards to meet her eyes. “I wasn’t paying attention to how much I was drinking last night, and I was careless. I’m sorry if anything happened that crossed any boundaries.”

Caitlyn shakes her head. “No…” she starts, then clears her throat. “No. You didn’t upset me or do anything bad. It’s okay.”

“Okay…” you trail off, having no idea where to go with this. It’s quiet again, and your stomach swoops with nerves. “I also, um, wanted to talk about what I said in my room last night.”

“Yeah,” Caitlyn exhales, strands of navy hair escaping her messy ponytail. “I had some questions about it, but I wanted to let you rest.”

“Thank you for that,” your voice lowers into a mumble. “But, well, I meant what I said.” You turn your body to fully face her on the bench. If you’re going to confess, you’re going to at least do it properly.

“You did…?” Caitlyn repeats slowly, almost a question.

“I know we’ve always been rivals,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “And we always fought each other for the top grades, but then we got to know each other and went skating that night. And somewhere along the way, the old feelings faded, and I really saw you as a person. I liked you as a person. So when everything got hazy last night, I guess I just was a lot more honest about it.”

“Wait, so,” Caitlyn’s sharp features narrow, as if she’s trying to discern what you mean. “You like me as a person. Does that mean—?”

“I like you,” your lips curve into half smile, looking up at her almost shyly now in spite of your anxiety. “A lot. I was just worried that I messed things up last night because you didn’t feel the same. And if you don’t, it’s okay, we can still be friends and—“

“Wait,” Caitlyn gently interrupts you, placing a hand on your arm as your words halt. “Why would you think that I don’t feel the same?” Her eyes implore yours questioningly.

“I—“ You stumble in your words, your cheeks growing hot under her gaze. You don’t really have a reason as to why she wouldn’t return your feelings, but of course if you’re nervous to confess to your crush. “I don’t know.”

Caitlyn has to bite back a smile as her heart soars at your shyness. It’s adorable, and she couldn’t ask for anything more. “Of course I like you. It’s why I wanted to go skating with you in the first place. All that bullshit I made up about a competition,” she mindlessly traces circles on your arm. “I just wanted to spend time with you.”

You freeze, words failing you. All that comes out of your mouth is a small, “oh,” and Caitlyn smiles fully at this.

“And when I went to the party, I just went because I knew you’d be there. Maybe it was selfish,” she admits, “but I wanted to be the one to take you home at the end of the night. Not anyone else.”

Your cheeks continue to darken, and your eyes drop, unable to meet her gaze. “I didn’t want anyone else to, either.”

Instead of a verbal response, you feel a light pressure under your chin, and your eyes widen when Caitlyn tilts your head up with a single finger to meet her eyes. Gods, that’s hot. “So, if we only want to be with each other in…that way, maybe we should be.”

“Yeah,” your eyes curve up into little eye-smiles that Caitlyn may or may not be totally obsessed with. “I think so.”

“So, let me do this properly then,” Caitlyn announces suddenly, standing in her casual hoodie and jeans before reaching out her hands to help you up off the bench. When you place your hands in hers, she gently guides you to your feet. She doesn’t let go, only closing the distance between the two of you with her hands holding yours. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you beam, barely able to restrain yourself from bouncing on your toes in compete joy. It’s what you’ve been dreaming of — what you’ve both been dreaming of — for weeks now. You feel sixteen all over again: enthralled by the joys of young love.

Caitlyn’s expression matches yours: sparkling eyes and cheeks hurting because she’s smiling so hard. “I really want to kiss you,” she confesses, bringing one of her hands up to cradle your jaw while the other remains in yours. “But I know we’re still on campus.”

“Who cares?” You just shake your head, far past the point of giving two shits about who sees. It’s just a kiss: people can deal with it.

That’s all the permission that Caitlyn needs before she’s leaning down to capture your lips with hers. It’s a sweet, innocent kiss at first: both of you smiling and giggling too much to get anywhere else. But gods, it feels so nice, and you force yourself to contain your happiness just so you can do it all over again.

Caitlyn seems to be following the same thought pattern, and she uses the hand that’s holding yours to tug you flush up against her chest. The new angle allows for your lips to meet in a deeper kiss, her tongue teasing at the seam of your lips. Her height advantage allows her to take most of the control, and your lips slant against hers as you return her kisses with equal fervor. 

“Wait,” Caitlyn mumbles, reluctantly pulling away to catch her breath. Your lips chase hers, tugging into a pout at the feeling of being ripped away from her mouth. “I— we should probably move this somewhere else.”

“Your dorm?” You suggest, eyeing the building next to you. It’s the closest space that’s private — because of course Caitlyn Kiramman has a dorm to herself. 

“We could,” Caitlyn’s tone is displeased as her gaze follows yours, evidently not satisfied with the idea. Why should she settle for a twin bed when she has a huge bed at her parents’ house? “Or…we could go back to my place.”

“With your parents?” You gape at her, slightly mortified. Her mother is the Councilor Cassandra Kiramman, and the last thing you want is for her to know about what you’re doing with her daughter. That’s the worst way to meet your new girlfriend’s parents.

“Relax,” Caitlyn huffs out a laugh, already pulling out her phone to call an uber. “They’re not home. Promise.”

“Okay,” you give into her wishes, leaning your cheek on her shoulder as she taps away on the screen. “I just want you.”

“Oh, darling,” Caitlyn tilts her head to the side to press a kiss to your forehead, and your body glows like you’re walking on sunshine. “I’m all yours from now on. And when we get back, you’re all mine.”

|------» ~~~ «------| 

Caitlyn practically yanks the car door open when the driver pulls up to the Kiramman manor, mumbling out a hurried “thank you” before dashing over to your side. She’s clearly in a hurry: wanting to get you alone to make up for lost time. Though, she does, admittedly, insist on opening the front door for you so that you can enter first because Caitlyn Kiramman is nothing if not a perfect gentlewoman.

You barely register entering the house, barely register the walk up to her room. The only thing you’re focused on is when she leads you into her room, shutting the door and immediately pushing you against it. Her hand cups the back of your head, careful not to let it slam onto the wood: a tinge of tenderness in a heated moment.

Her lips are back on yours before you can even speak, her tongue wasting no time on finding its way past your lips. She explores your mouth like it’s something to be studied, taking careful time to entwine her tongue with yours. This pulls a soft whimper from you — one which Caitlyn swallows.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” she mumbles as her mouth breaks from yours: a single strand of saliva connecting the two. “Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“That would— ah— be you!” You gasp, your head tilting back against the door as her lips move to kiss the corner of your jaw before they trail down to your neck. 

Caitlyn doesn’t bite; she’s much too attentive to your wants and needs to risk anything that hurts right now. She’s a possessive woman, though, caused by being an only child who had all the wealth that she never had to share. So, in place of a love bite, her lips trace over your pulse point before darting her tongue out to meet it. She sucks softly at your skin, just hard enough to leave a mark that everyone will know is hers. More importantly, that you will know is hers.

Her hands are on a journey of their own, sliding down to your hips to give them a squeeze. “No one could ever compare to you,” Caitlyn mumbles against your neck in response to your last comment. “Can’t believe I have you now. I want to make you mine in all the ways I can.”

“I wouldn’t stop you,” you pant, helpless to do anything but take in just how good her mouth and hands feel all over you. Vaguely, you wonder how they’d feel in certain other places, too.

It’s not long before Caitlyn’s tugging you over to the bed, guiding you onto the mattress before moving on top of you. “Can I take this off, darling?” She tugs at your blue-grey top, making eye contact with you to ensure that this is what you really want.

You nod almost desperately, unable to wait much longer. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Begging already,” Caitlyn hums, almost absentmindedly. Her naturally authoritative aura comes from her desire for control — in every sense of the word. You’ve noticed this about her, even fantasized about it, but you’ve never had it turned on you before. Gods, is it attractive.

Caitlyn makes quick work of your top, tugging it over your head before shrugging off her sweatshirt to reveal her bra underneath it. This makes you lean up on your elbows, eyeing her breasts like they’re something to be devoured. They are.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, is entirely focused on your now exposed bra. It’s a tiny, lacy little thing that you had chosen specifically to go under your party outfit from last night. She caresses the detailed edges, barely restraining herself from ripping off your skirt, too. Caitlyn could go feral just thinking about the likely matching panties that she bets show quite a decent amount.

She settles for unclasping your bra, instead, sliding it off to reveal your breasts. Caitlyn immediately brings her mouth to one of them, lavishing your nipple with her tongue while one of her hands comes up to pinch the other.

You grip onto her shoulder, your knuckles turning white with the pressure meant to offset the pure pleasure that’s coursing through your body. “Cait!” You gasp as her mouth parts from your nipple.

She watches it pebble under the cool air, gently blowing on it just to watch it harden for her. She coos at your gasp, too. “So perfect,” she murmurs. “So good for me.”

“Please, Cait, I need you!”

“Oh, you need me?” She reaches to undo her own bra and slip off her jeans. “How do you need me, darling? Tell me what exactly you need.”

“Anything,” you counter, your tone whiny and pleading. “Everything.”

“Anything and everything, huh?” Caitlyn muses, lifting your skirt just enough so she can see the wet spot in your black panties underneath. She reaches out to touch it, the light pressure of her finger making you gasp. Her eyes darken. “We’ll see about that.”

Your skirt’s being tossed to her bedroom floor in a flash, Caitlyn’s hands lifting your hips off the bed so she can tug your panties down. “Beautiful,” she breathes when she sees your fully exposed core, now dripping from how she had worked you up. She only admires it for a moment— diving in when her desire overwhelms her restraint.

You keen as her tongue meets you slick folds. You squirm, unable to keep your hips from jerking at the relentless onslaught of pleasure that your girlfriend’s giving you. Caitlyn, for her parent, rests her hands on your inner thighs, spreading them to give her better access to you.

She licks, sucks, and nips at your folds before she traces her tongue all the way up to circle around your clit, pulling another gasp from you. “That feels— mmnh— so good!” Your voice shakes, growing increasingly uneven as Caitlyn continues to toy with your sensitive nerves. 

But at the height of it all, just when you’re about to come, she separates her mouth from your core with a small pop. You instantly whine in protest, shifting your hips back towards her talented mouth. Caitlyn just tuts at you, clicking her tongue in ways that make you clench around nothing. “Patience, darling. I want our first time to be together.”

Before you can even fully process what she means, she’s moving her hands back to her own body to slide her panties down her legs. Caitlyn throws them to the ground without a single spare glance, moving forward to balance herself on top of you. “Tell me, love, have you ever scissored with a girl before?”

You shake your head up at her, your eyes blurry from your building orgasm that had been denied. 

“Oh, perfect,” she continues to coo. “Then let me show you how this goes, darling.”

When both of your legs spread and your dripping cunt meets hers, your mouth drops open. You’ve never felt pleasure like this before — even with how well she ate you out. Your eyes practically role back as you gasp out a moan.

Caitlyn also falters in her composure, hissing when she starts to continuously grind her slickness against yours. “Shit, you feel so good. Just like that. Just lay there and take it.”

And you do — half because you want to listen to her and half because you doubt that you’re physically capable of doing anything else. You won’t last long: not with the way Caitlyn’s shaky sighs and the movements of her hips combine to form the hottest image you’ve ever seen.

“I can’t!” You gasp after several more moments. “I can’t go much longer.”

“It’s okay,” Caitlyn’s exhale resembles more of a soft moan. She’s grinding her hips faster now, chasing her own release. “We’ll come together, okay darling? Just come for me, show me how good it feels.”

You come at her words, falling apart under her touch like you’ve wanted to do this whole time. Your hips move up desperately, riding out your delicious high while Caitlyn lets go with a grunt of her own.

A few seconds pass in which all the two of you can do is rut back against each other, stealing every last bit of pleasure that you can manage. When you start to come down from your orgasm, Caitlyn maneuvers herself next to lay next to you upon her silk sheets. She slings an arm across your torso, manicured fingers splaying across your abdomen.

You pant, still trying to catch your breath after your mind-blowing first time with Caitlyn. “You’re really good at that,” are the first words you manage out. 

Caitlyn laughs, throwing her head back against the pillow in her own afterglow. “You’re a natural too. Best sex I’ve ever had,” she pauses to press a kiss to your cheek. Then a second. Then a third. “Best woman in the entirety of Runeterra. All for me, all mine.”

“Yes, all yours,” your laughter comes out as an amused, tired huff. “But I don’t know about me being a ‘natural.’ Sounds a little cliché.”

“Well then,” Caitlyn adjusts your positions so your head is tucked under her chin. She’s keeping you warm, safe, and protected — just how she likes it. “Guess we’ll have to practice some more.”

You smile against her collarbone before press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to it. “As much as you want.”

“Of course, my love,” Caitlyn lets out a deep, contented sigh, throwing the comforter over both of you and settling into her little cocoon. Silk sheets, plush comforter, and you. What else could she ever need?

“We have all the time in the world.”

Longest fic I've ever written! Glad it was for academic rival!Caitlyn...I love her sososo much!

Thank you for all the love on my fics lately, my lovelies. You guys are the sweetest, and I appreciate you so much <3

~Cherry 🍒

[youthguk]

Entropy | jjk (m) | one-shot

College AU | Fuckboy Jungkook x Physics Student Y/N 

“The universe tends toward chaos.” You thought that only applied to black holes and entropy equations — not boys with lip rings and midnight eyes. You were wrong. 

genre: smut, one-shot, college AU, fuckboy!jungkook, explicit sexual content, strong language, alcohol consumption, casual hookup, reader is sexually inexperienced but very willing, Jungkook is fully feral and obsessed

Wc: 10k

author's note: there’s a second and final part already finished and available exclusively now on my private telegram channel (through paid subscription)

your feedback means the world to me. 🖤

The second law of thermodynamics states that the universe naturally tends toward disorder. That every system, left to its own devices, will eventually fall apart.

You never thought that applied to people.

By the third week of finals season, everything starts to decay.

Not in any spectacular, cinematic way—no dramatic breakdowns in the hallway or rain-soaked monologues—but in smaller, quieter disintegrations. You begin to lose the will to care whether your iced coffee is more milk than caffeine. Your drawers become a graveyard of crumpled hoodies and socks that don’t match. Your planner, once color-coded with obsessive devotion, now lies somewhere under your bed, abandoned and blank.

Entropy, you think. The tendency of systems to slide into disorder. You remember the diagram from second-year thermodynamics: the universe’s cruel, inevitable drift toward chaos. You’d once found peace in it. A kind of comfort, knowing it wasn’t your fault when things fell apart. It was just nature.

These days, you’re not so sure.

You stand in front of the mirror in your dorm’s bathroom, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth, hair piled into a loose, too-honest bun that makes your ears look uneven. You’ve been wearing the same oversized MIT hoodie for three days straight. Not because it means anything to you—you didn’t even apply there—but because it smells like clean laundry and covers the fact that your bra is somewhere inside a laundry basket you no longer have the energy to dig through.

You look exhausted. Not dramatically so, but in the way that makes people hesitate before asking you for anything. You’ve started getting that look in the lab, in lectures, even from your professors: the quiet, pitying glance that says, You’re doing too much, and it’s starting to show.

And still, you keep doing it.

Physics doesn’t reward soft emotions. It rewards answers. You know how to calculate momentum, how to model projectile motion, how to explain wave-particle duality to a room full of distracted undergrads—but you don’t know how to mourn something that was never truly yours. You don’t know how to feel cleanly. You only know how to function.

You open the bathroom cabinet, close it again, stare blankly at your own reflection. Your eyes are ringed in fatigue. Your lips are chapped. Your last kiss was over a month ago and didn’t even taste like goodbye.

You don’t miss him. Not really. He was nice. Predictable. Gentle. He always held your hand like he was asking permission. But the moment he ended it—voice calm, like he was discussing his meal plan—you didn’t feel heartbreak. You felt relief.

And maybe that’s worse.

Your phone buzzes on the sink. You glance down and see Hyeri’s name. Hyeri: I swear to god if you ghost me I’m breaking into your room.Hyeri: Put on a dress. He’s throwing a party.You: Who.Hyeri: Jeon fucking Jungkook.You: No thanks.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. There it is—that name again. A name that lives in the background of your life like ambient noise. Jeon Jungkook: a boy you’ve never actually spoken to, but whose existence seems to follow you in ways you can’t explain. Shared classes. Group projects. Dorm parties where he arrived shirtless and left with a girl on his arm. Mutual friends who describe him with exasperated fondness. A smirk that belongs on someone far less academically average.

You’ve never had a reason to care about him. Not really. Except for that one night at the start of second year, when you sat across from him at a friend-of-a-friend’s birthday and watched him lick whipped cream off his thumb while explaining something about SEO strategy. You’d gone home that night and googled what the hell SEO actually was.

You’d forgotten about him after that. Or tried to.

Until your best friend started playing matchmaker in group chats you weren’t in. Until the campus gossip pages kept posting blurry photos of his arms. Until his name started appearing in conversations he wasn’t even part of, and every girl said the same thing:

Jeon Jungkook fucks like it’s a contact sport.

And maybe, for a fraction of a second, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like to be tackled.

But then you went back to your labs. Your simulations. Your notes. You buried the thought under coursework and logic and neat, contained systems.

Hyeri: Come. Please. One drink. One dance. You’re not allowed to rot in that hoodie forever.

You chew your lip. Look down at the hoodie. Then at yourself. Then at the door.

Maybe it’s not about Jungkook. Maybe it’s not even about your ex. Maybe it’s just… time.

Time to feel something before summer eats the rest of you whole.

You sigh. You: Fine. But if it’s weird, I’m faking a panic attack and leaving.

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*

You don’t know when the universe started to unravel.

Maybe it was the breakup. Maybe it was that lab partner who kept messing up your simulations. Maybe it was all the times you sat through lectures with tears threatening at the corners of your eyes and no one noticing, not even once. But tonight, it feels like something bigger. Like the universe itself has decided to press its thumb against your spine and push.

Entropy. Chaos. Heat death. The natural end of all things.

And what are you doing? Curling your lashes. Half-heartedly, as if mascara could fix the hollowness behind your eyes. You haven’t dressed up in weeks. You barely recognize yourself in the mirror.

Hyeri’s outside your door, already half-drunk, yelling through the crack like she owns the world. “If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m breaking in and dressing you myself!”

You shout back a profanity, then drop your towel and step into the dress she brought you.

It wasn’t made for physics students. That much is clear. It’s navy satin, too short to be safe and too tight to be responsible. The neckline dips like a threat, the fabric clings like it knows something you don’t. You smooth it down your sides, catching your reflection by accident — and then not looking away.

Your hair’s still wet from the world’s fastest shower. You didn’t bother with foundation. Just a bit of liner, a swipe of something sheer on your lips. You look like someone you don’t quite know. Someone who might dance. Someone who might say yes to something reckless.

The zipper sticks halfway up your back, and when you reach to fix it, a strand of hair slips free and falls across your face. You look messy. Unpolished. A little chaotic.

You almost laugh.

Maybe you finally match the universe.

There’s a knock at the door. “I swear to god, Y/N—”

You open it before she can finish, and Hyeri shuts up mid-rant.

“Holy shit,” she breathes.

You grab your bag. “Don’t say anything.”

“Okay,” she says, eyes wide, “but if Jungkook doesn’t try to kiss you tonight, I’m checking him for a concussion.”

You roll your eyes, but something in your stomach flickers — a sudden, sharp awareness of your own body. Of skin against satin. Of the air against the backs of your thighs as you walk.

You ignore it.

You follow Hyeri down the stairs, into the Uber, into the night.

The city feels different somehow. Summer’s here, but it hasn’t settled. The air’s heavy but not warm, like it’s holding its breath. Like the universe is still deciding what kind of chaos it wants to be tonight.

And maybe, for once, you’re not here to resist it.

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*

You smell the party before you hear it.

It’s not unpleasant — not the kind of sour, suffocating stink of undergrad dorm parties you’ve long since grown out of. No, this one smells like summer. Like too-sweet alcohol and chlorine and night air that clings to bare shoulders. There’s music, loud enough to rattle the pavement beneath your heels, bass bleeding through windows too big to hide the chaos inside.

Jungkook’s house is exactly what you’d expect from a rich boy with too many friends and too little restraint. Modern, massive, perched on a hill just far enough from campus to feel forbidden. The front door’s already wide open. People flow in and out like blood through a vein. Someone’s laughing on the porch. Someone else is making out against the railing. You pause before going in.

Hyeri’s already halfway up the steps, turning back when she notices you hesitate. “Don’t look like you’re here to study. Shoulders back. Chin up. You look hot as hell.”

You follow her inside.

The temperature rises immediately. The music hits your chest in waves, something fast and rhythmic that people pretend they know the words to. There’s a sheen of sweat on everyone’s skin, cups half-empty and already sticky with fingerprints. Lights pulse in warm golds and deep reds, designed to make everyone look better than they are.

You keep your eyes low at first, weaving through bodies, careful not to bump into anyone. You’re not used to being seen. Not like this. Not in something this tight, this short. You feel the way the fabric pulls across your hips, how it shifts with each step. You’re suddenly aware of the line of your thighs, the exposed stretch of your back.

And then you feel it. Eyes.

Heavy, deliberate.

You look up.

And there he is.

Jeon Jungkook.

Slouched on the arm of an expensive couch, drink in one hand, tattooed fingers curled around plastic like they’ve never had to hold anything heavier. He’s wearing a black button-up — open halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows — and a pair of dark jeans that might as well be a crime. His lip ring catches the light when he smirks at something one of his friends says, and his head tilts just slightly—

—because he’s looking at you.

You almost miss it, the way the smirk dies and reforms into something slower. Sharper. His gaze lingers, dips — not in a crude, hungry way, but in a way that makes you feel scanned. Like he’s logging every inch of skin, every tilt of your body, every second you hold eye contact.

He doesn’t smile. Not yet.

But he doesn’t stop looking.

Hyeri doesn’t notice. She’s already pulling you into the kitchen, rambling about shots and mixers and “hydrating between drinks, you nerd.” But you feel him. Even with your back turned. Even through the noise and heat and press of strangers, you know exactly where he is in the room.

You try to shake it off.

The kitchen is a mess of solo cups, liquor bottles, and fruit that’s been soaking in something far too potent. You grab a drink just to have something to hold. Cold plastic. Fake safety. You press the rim to your lips and taste cherry, vodka, and regret.

“Come dance,” Hyeri yells over the music, already grabbing your hand.

You hesitate. And then, from across the room — heat again. A pulse.

You glance back once. He’s standing now.

Still holding his drink. Still watching. And this time, when your eyes meet, he smiles.

Not the cocky kind. Not the I’ve-done-this-before kind. Something slower. Curious. Possessive.

Like he knows something you don’t. Like the universe just chose its form of chaos.

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*

You lose Hyeri somewhere between the kitchen and the music.

She disappears into the haze of bodies with the kind of confidence you’ve never been able to fake—throwing her arms around someone you don’t recognize, laughing too loudly, swaying like she’s part of the beat itself. The living room’s been cleared just enough to form a makeshift dance floor, though calling it that feels generous. It’s a swarm. Sweaty, uncoordinated, pulsing with bass and alcohol.

You hover at the edge for a moment, half-expecting yourself to turn back. But your feet don’t move. You feel warm. Lightheaded. A little less real with every second. And you know, before you even look again, that he’s still there.

He doesn’t approach like he’s chasing something. He approaches like he’s already caught it.

You feel him before you see him—something magnetic pulling at the corner of your awareness. Then you turn your head, and he’s suddenly beside you, crowding your space without brushing you once. His shirt clings to the lines of his chest. His breath smells faintly of whiskey and mint.

“Didn’t know physics majors danced,” he murmurs, not loud but close enough that the words slide against your neck.

You don’t flinch. “Didn’t know business majors could form full sentences.”

That earns a laugh. Low. A little sharp. He doesn’t look away.

The song shifts, something slower, bass-heavy, almost liquid in the way it pours over the crowd. His hand doesn’t touch you—not yet—but you feel his presence pressing in, daring you to move first.

“You wanna?” he asks, a single word softened by the tilt of his mouth. It’s not polite. Not romantic. But his tone says he already knows the answer.

You shouldn’t. But then—nothing about tonight has followed the laws of reason.

You nod once.

He steps behind you.

There’s no gap between your bodies. He doesn’t ask permission again. His hands find your hips with casual precision, thumbs brushing the sliver of bare skin between your dress and thighs. It’s not obscene. Not quite. But it’s enough to make your spine stiffen, your breath catch.

You move.

Not with practiced rhythm, but instinct. Letting the music pull your limbs into motion. You’re aware of the weight of his hands, the subtle pull of his grip guiding your pace, the heat radiating off his chest behind you. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. Everything he wants to say is in the way he holds you—like he’s marking you.

His lips graze your ear.

“You’re not what I expected.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. It’s softer. Lower. Coated in heat.

“I don’t know,” he says. “You just… move like you’ve been pretending not to want this.”

You lean back—not into him, not quite. Just enough to let your head fall against his shoulder, enough for your cheek to brush the edge of his jaw.

“Maybe I have,” you whisper.

That makes him exhale through his nose, a near-silent sound of disbelief.

One of his hands slides lower, fingers dragging down the side of your thigh through your dress, subtle under the colored lights. You don’t stop him. Don’t even flinch. You’re past that now—past logic, past caution. You gave up control the second you walked through the door.

Your hips roll against his, slow, testing.

He curses under his breath.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.

You smile, dizzy with the rush of power you didn’t know you had. “Good.”

The beat slows again. He doesn’t move. Neither do you. You're suspended there, in the strobe-flecked dark, wrapped in the tension of something neither of you is ready to name. You can feel the way his body hardens against yours. The restraint in the way he keeps his hands from wandering farther. The storm gathering behind his eyes.

And then someone spills a drink, somewhere close, and the moment fractures just enough for you to step away.

You walk toward the back door without a word. Toward the warm night air, toward the sound of water, toward the next inevitable collapse in this universe gone fully to chaos.

Behind you, Jungkook follows.

The patio is cooler, but it doesn’t help. Not really.

You step out into the night air with your plastic cup still clutched in your hand, the condensation sliding between your fingers. The hem of your dress clings to the backs of your thighs, slick with sweat and static, and your pulse hasn’t slowed since the dance floor. You try to blame it on the alcohol. On the heat. On the music still throbbing behind you.

Not on him.

You don’t dare glance behind you. You don’t have to. You already know he’s there.

The pool glows in blue and gold, lights flickering beneath the surface like someone bottled the stars and poured them into water. A few people are floating lazily, limbs draped over inflatable chairs, laughter drifting up like smoke. The jacuzzi hums beside it, steam rising from its surface, soft and almost cinematic. Someone’s speaker plays a slower song now—trance-like, sensual, too low to sing along to.

And there he is again.

He emerges from the shadows like the night belongs to him. Still shirtless, only now his skin shines with a sheen of sweat. His boxers ride low on his hips, exposing just enough to make your mouth dry. His chest is cut, stomach taut, tattoos black against golden skin. A towel slung over one shoulder. That stupid, crooked grin.

“You look hot,” he says. His tone is casual, but his eyes aren’t. They’re scanning every inch of you, unhurried. “You should cool off.”

You take a slow sip from your drink. “What, in there?”

He nods toward the jacuzzi. “It’s basically mandatory.”

You raise a brow. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

Neither does he, clearly. He steps closer anyway. “Neither do I.”

Before you can respond, Hyeri appears beside you with a shriek, nearly stumbling as she tugs off her dress in one motion. Her red bra and matching lace panties flash under the porch lights like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Come onnnn,” she whines, laughing, already halfway into the water. “It’s just underwear! No one cares!”

“I care,” you mutter, gripping the hem of your dress like it’s the last thing tethering you to reality.

“Then stop being so uptight,” she says—and with no warning, she shoves you forward.

You stumble with a yelp. The cup flies from your hand. Your knees buckle as hot water surrounds you, silk dragging against your skin, heavy and clinging. You surface gasping, soaked from head to toe, hair plastered to your forehead.

“Hyeri!” you snap, voice shrill, but she’s laughing too hard to answer.

Someone whistles. Someone else claps. Jungkook’s smirking as he lowers himself in across from you, water sloshing up over his chest. He leans back, spreads his arms wide across the edge, like this is his throne and you’ve just been delivered to it.

And your dress—god, your dress.

The satin is ruined. It sticks to your stomach, your thighs, your chest. The neckline’s slipped almost indecently low, and you know without looking that the fabric is nearly see-through now, the curve of your bra showing underneath. You tug at it beneath the surface, cheeks flaming.

“It’s not that kind of party,” you mutter, voice tight.

But he’s already watching you like it is. “You’re overdressed.”

You shoot him a look. “Not anymore.”

He smiles, slow and lazy, and leans closer. “Then lose it.”

You hesitate. But the water is warm, the music hazy, the alcohol swimming in your bloodstream like a tide. And your dress is clinging like second skin, dragging with every breath. You sigh. Slide the straps off your shoulders. Shimmy out of the fabric under the surface until it floats around you like a drowning petal. You drape it over the side without ceremony.

Now it’s just you in your bra and underwear. Bare legs. Wet skin. Nothing left to hide behind.

And he’s watching you like he wants to ruin you with just his eyes.

Conversation rises around you—someone retells a wild hookup story, someone else splashes a drink over the jets—but none of it registers. You can feel Jungkook's thigh brushing yours beneath the water. His hand finds your knee. Slides just above it.

You breathe in. Let it happen.

The moment holds like that. Suspended. Like a physics problem with no solution—just two bodies and friction and heat, variables with too much potential energy, waiting to snap.

Then someone splashes. Water flies up into your face, and you blink hard, flinching.

“Shit,” you mumble, rubbing your eye. Your contact is out of place—stinging, burning, blurring your vision.

“You good?” Jungkook’s voice is suddenly sharper, closer.

You try to nod. “Something in my eye.”

Without missing a beat, he lifts himself out of the water. The muscles in his stomach flex as he grabs a towel and holds it out to you. “Come on. Bathroom’s inside. I’ve got eyedrops.”

You hesitate.

He holds your gaze.

“It’s just upstairs,” he says, voice quieter now. “I’ll get you something dry too.”

Your breath catches.

His boxers are soaked. His hair’s dripping down his neck. His hand is still outstretched.

And you go.

The hallway is quiet—eerily so after the chaos of the party below. The music becomes nothing but a muffled hum, thudding through the floorboards as if the house is holding its breath with you. Water drips from your hair to your bare shoulders, your bra clinging uncomfortably to your skin beneath the oversized towel Jungkook threw over you. The soaked fabric of your underwear sticks between your thighs as you walk, your steps squelching against the hardwood.

He walks just ahead, shirtless and dripping, his boxers clinging to every muscle of his thighs. His back is broad, his tattooed arm flexing as he opens a door on the left, pushing it open with casual ease.

“Bathroom,” he says, flicking on the light. “Eyedrops are in the cabinet.”

You step inside. The air is cool, the tile colder beneath your feet. A dim light above the mirror flickers before settling into a soft glow. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror—you already know you look like something undone. Makeup smudged. Hair clumped into wet strands. Skin flushed from heat and embarrassment and him.

You open the cabinet, find the eyedrops instantly. Your fingers tremble as you tip your chin back, blinking the liquid in. The sting fades slowly.

When you lower your gaze, he’s leaning in the doorway, shoulder against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t speak. Just watches. Like he’s cataloging every movement, every breath, every second you give him.

You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

He nods. “Didn’t want your eye falling out on my watch.”

You laugh, quiet. “So thoughtful.”

“I am,” he says, straightening. He steps toward you, slow. Measured. “You should let me show you.”

Your pulse skips. “Show me what?”

His eyes dip. “How thoughtful I can be.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s weak. Your body’s already reacting, legs stiffening slightly, breath catching when he stops in front of you, close enough that the heat of his skin warms yours. The water still dripping from his hair catches the light.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs, glancing down.

“Sharp observation.”

He hums. “Not just from the jacuzzi, I think.”

Your eyes snap up. His are burning now—darker, lower, slow-burning coal beneath thick lashes. His voice dips.

“You gonna let me dry you off?”

You don’t answer.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Or should I make you wetter first?”

Your knees threaten to give out.

He steps back before you can respond, smirking like he already knows he’s winning. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll give you something dry to wear.”

You hesitate. You shouldn’t. You know what this is. But you take his hand anyway.

The bedroom is dim, lit only by a lamp in the corner and the moonlight spilling through half-closed blinds. The air is warmer here. Softer. And everything smells like him—spice, skin, shampoo. The bed is rumpled. There’s a hoodie thrown over a chair, a single black ring on the nightstand, and a half-empty glass of water.

You stand awkwardly at the edge of the room, arms crossed tightly over the towel.

He crosses to a dresser, pulls out a black T-shirt and a pair of soft-looking sweatpants, both oversized. He tosses them to the bed and turns to face you.

“You can change here,” he says. “I’ll be good.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t even believe that.”

He grins. “No. But I like hearing you say it.”

You look at the clothes. You look at him.

And then—very slowly—you loosen the towel.

It falls to the floor.

The air shifts. It goes still. Almost reverent.

His eyes drag down your body in a slow, devastating sweep. Your wet bra clings to your chest, nipples clearly visible beneath the sheer fabric. Your underwear is nearly transparent, stretched taut across your hips, the waistband twisted from the way you shifted under the water. Your skin is flushed, dotted with goosebumps. You don’t cover yourself.

He doesn’t move.

For a moment, he just stares—mouth parted, throat working as he swallows hard. His cock twitches in his boxers, and the fabric can no longer hide it.

You speak first.

“Thought you were gonna be good.”

His gaze lifts—slow, hungry. His voice is hoarse when he answers.

“I lied.”

He sits on the bed, legs spread wide, his cock hard and obvious beneath the wet fabric. He leans back on his hands and looks at you like he already owns you.

“Come here.”

You step forward.

One pace. Then two. He watches your legs move, the sway of your hips, the way your soaked bra clings like temptation. When you stop in front of him, he exhales like it’s costing him something.

He tilts his head. “Can I touch you now?”

You nod. It’s barely a breath.

He reaches forward, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, then over your hips, thumbs brushing the waistband of your underwear.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up. “You don’t even know.”

“I think I do,” you whisper.

And he grins, wild and crooked and starved. “Good girl.”

His eyes are on your mouth when you breathe.

“Come here,” he says again, voice husky, deeper than it was downstairs. There’s no playfulness in it anymore. Just want.

You step forward, letting your knees brush the outside of his. He doesn’t move.

Then, slowly, deliberately, you lift one leg over his thigh, then the other, and lower yourself into his lap.

The second your hips meet his, you feel it — the hard line of his cock pressing against the thin cotton of your panties. You both freeze. His breath stutters, jaw flexing as his fingers curl into the sheets beside him. He looks up at you like you’ve just ruined him.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what you do to me.”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t look away.

He reaches for your waist, fingers spreading wide as he guides you gently — forward, then back. The friction is slow. Torturous. His cock slides along the soaked crotch of your panties with every pass, dragging over your clit in a way that makes your thighs twitch.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, like it’s a confession. “You’ve been wet since the dance, haven’t you?”

You open your mouth to argue, but it comes out a moan instead.

His hands roam. Over your waist, your ribs, thumbs grazing the undercurve of your breasts. He doesn’t touch your nipples — not yet. He’s savoring. Mapping you like something rare and sacred. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for balance, and he lets his head fall forward, lips grazing the slope of your neck.

“You smell like heat,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your pulse. “Like you’re meant to be fucked.”

The air leaves your lungs in one sharp exhale.

He sucks at your throat once — soft, then harder — enough to leave a mark. Your hips grind down harder by accident, and he groans into your skin.

“God, baby,” he breathes, voice crumbling, “I want you to ride me just like this. Slow. Fuck—just like that.”

You drag your hips again, letting your soaked panties rub over his cock, and his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“You like that?” you whisper, breath shaking.

He looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, and smiles like the devil.

“You have no idea.”

He rolls his hips up into yours once, sharply. You gasp.

“Wanna feel you come on me like this,” he mutters, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “Make a mess all over my lap. Let me ruin these pretty little panties you wore just for me.”

You whimper. His cock pulses beneath you, hot and thick and aching against your soaked center.

“Say you want it,” he whispers. “Say you want me to fuck you.”

“I want it,” you gasp, breathless. “Jungkook—please…”

And he groans, deep and raw.

“I’m gonna take my fucking time with you.”

You don’t realize how hard you’re breathing until he stills you.

His hands slide beneath your thighs, gripping them firmly, and with a strength that shouldn’t feel as gentle as it does, he lifts you. You gasp as he lays you back across the bed, your legs draped over the edge, your hair fanning against the pillows like you were made to be framed like this—bare and gasping beneath his stare.

He follows you down slowly. Drops to his knees like it's instinct.

Not cocky. Not rushed.

Like he’s been waiting to kneel here since the second he saw you.

Your thighs tremble as he presses them open, fingers leaving faint imprints against your skin. He slides his palms under your knees, pushing them farther apart, and for a second, he just looks at you. At the damp curve of your panties, the way the fabric clings, the way you shift slightly under his stare like the heat between your legs has turned unbearable.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathes.

His hands grip the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips without thinking. He peels them down slowly, watching them drag over your skin like he wants to memorize every inch. When they reach your ankles, he tosses them somewhere behind him—but his eyes never leave you.

Then he leans in.

The first touch of his tongue is almost too soft to process. Just the tip, a teasing flick across your clit that makes your entire body jolt. You clutch at the sheets, your back arching when he does it again—firmer this time. He groans the second he tastes you.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue from your entrance all the way up. “How the fuck do you taste like this?”

Your thighs twitch. He presses his palms against them to keep you open, steady, and lowers his mouth again.

This time, it’s not soft.

His tongue laps at you with purpose, flattening against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that make your legs tense and your fingers curl. He moans against you like he’s the one being pleasured, and the vibrations send shocks through your entire body.

You cry out. It’s instinctual—your hips trying to buck, your hand flying to his hair.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you run.

He wraps an arm around your thigh, holds you down, and slips two fingers inside you without warning.

Your moan is wrecked.

The stretch, the heat, the way his tongue moves faster now—circling, pressing, teasing just to the edge of pain. It’s too much. Not enough. Everything.

Your head falls back against the mattress.

“Jungkook—” It’s a whimper, broken. “Oh my god…”

He groans again, tongue working faster, fingers curling inside you like he knows exactly where to find you, exactly how to press until you’re gasping like you’re drowning.

“That’s it,” he rasps against you. “Fuck, baby… let me feel you come on my mouth. Right here. Come for me.”

You’re so close. You can’t breathe.

Everything tightens. Spirals. Your hands clutch his hair, your hips grind against his mouth despite yourself, and then—

You come.

Hard.

It hits you like a wave — back arching, thighs shaking, lips parting in a cry you can’t control. You feel yourself pulse around his fingers, your orgasm ripping through you in hot, wet pulses that make you sob his name.

He groans low against you and keeps going, tongue flicking as your body shudders, milking every second out of it, chasing every last twitch of pleasure until your hips collapse and your legs fall open.

He finally pulls back, face glistening, lips swollen, pupils blown.

You’re panting.

He stares at you like he’s just won a war.

And then—without giving you a second to recover—he grips your thighs and says, voice rough, “Get up.”

You blink, dizzy. “Wha—”

“Mirror,” he says. “Now.”

You’re still catching your breath when he grabs your wrist.

Not harshly. Not with force. Just enough pressure to tell you you’re not going anywhere.

Your skin is hot, oversensitive, your thighs still twitching, and he’s already pulling you upright like he hasn’t just made you come with nothing but his mouth and two fingers. You follow, unsteady on your feet, your knees weak. Your bra is twisted around your chest, half-askew. Your hair’s stuck to your neck. You feel undone.

And he’s still hard.

You catch a glimpse of it as he steps in behind you — the thick outline of his cock straining against the wet cotton of his boxers. You must’ve soaked through his lap earlier, because the front of them is completely dark, clinging to every inch of him. Your throat goes dry.

“Come here,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, already steering you toward the mirror in the corner of his room. Full-length. Gold-rimmed. Slightly fogged at the edges from the humidity of your bodies.

“I can’t—” you start, still dazed, and his hand cups your jaw from behind.

“You can,” he says, soft but firm. “You’re not done. Not yet.”

He stops you just a step in front of the mirror.

“Look,” he tells you. His voice is low, breathless now. “Look at yourself.”

You do.

And the girl in the reflection is… not you.

Her lips are swollen. Her bra half-off. Her thighs gleaming. Her chest rising and falling like she’s been running for hours. You can see Jungkook’s frame behind you—tall, shirtless, flushed—his arm reaching around your waist, the other pressing flat against your lower back.

Then his hand slides down.

Over your stomach. Your panties are gone. You’re bare for him, wet and pulsing and still aching from before.

His fingers dip between your legs again.

You gasp. Your head drops forward—but his voice sharpens, right against your ear.

“No. Eyes up. Watch.”

You do.

You watch the way your mouth falls open when two fingers slip back inside you, slow and deep. Watch the way your body rocks forward slightly, forced to brace against the glass as he curls them perfectly, his palm dragging over your clit just enough to make your knees buckle.

He wraps his other arm around your waist to keep you upright.

“Good girl,” he whispers, lips brushing your neck.

Your hips twitch. The angle is too perfect. Too much. Every thrust of his fingers sends you crashing forward against your reflection, breath fogging the glass, lips parting with every ragged moan.

“Look how pretty you are when you fall apart,” he murmurs. “You see that?”

You nod, barely.

He pumps his fingers harder. Deeper. You feel them hit that spot again, and your entire body shudders. His hips are pressed to your ass now, his cock grinding against your skin with every movement, leaking through his boxers as he fingers you mercilessly.

“You like being watched?” he growls, voice breaking. “Like seeing yourself like this?”

You whimper. “Yes…”

“You wanna come again, don’t you?” His fingers slam into you harder now, knuckles wet, your slick echoing obscenely in the quiet. “You wanna do it while you’re looking me in the eye?”

You lift your head.

Meet his gaze in the mirror.

And that’s what breaks you.

You cry out, loud and raw, body shaking against his, pressed full-length to the glass as your orgasm rips through you again — messier this time, faster, overwhelming. Your legs quake. His fingers never stop. He holds you through it, one arm locking you in place as you fall apart a second time in front of yourself, because of him.

Your breath fogs the mirror in quick, shallow pants.

He finally pulls back, wet fingers sliding free with a low, satisfied groan.

He looks at you in the mirror—flushed, panting, nearly gone—and leans in to press a slow kiss to your shoulder.

“I could watch you come all night.”

And somehow, you believe him.

He pulls back just enough to let you breathe. The mirror’s cooled now, the glass smeared with your fingerprints and fog, the reflection a blur of tangled hair and sweat and wrecked pleasure. Your thighs are shaking. Your skin is damp. You feel like you’ve melted and there’s no putting yourself back together.

Jungkook turns you gently, hand on your waist, guiding you like he’s still not done claiming you.

The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and you let him push you down until you’re flat on your back. Your arms fall limp beside you, and for a moment all you can do is stare up at him. His chest is heaving. His skin is flushed. His cock — thick, red, twitching — strains beneath the cling of his boxers, soaked and sticking to every outline.

Then he hooks his thumbs in the waistband.

You can’t look away.

The cotton peels down slowly, catching on the head of his cock. He frees it with one hand, and it slaps up against his stomach, flushed and dripping.

Your breath catches.

You’ve seen porn. You’ve read things. You’ve imagined. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight of him — him— standing between your knees, eyes dark, cock hard, and so clearly turned on by you.

Your thighs press together instinctively.

He sees it.

Smirks.

Then climbs onto the bed.

He doesn’t ask. He just leans over you, one hand sliding beneath your back, the other tugging the straps of your bra off your shoulders. You lift your arms without thinking, too far gone to hesitate, and he slides it down and off, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

Your breasts spill free, heavy and flushed and still damp from sweat.

He freezes. Just for a second.

Then—

“Jesus fuck,” he breathes.

His hand comes up, fingers splayed, and he cups one breast gently, reverently, like it’s something sacred. His thumb grazes your nipple. You shudder.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs. “So fucking soft… I’ve been staring at these all night.”

You laugh breathlessly. “You haven’t even seen them until now.”

He leans down, presses a kiss between them. “Didn’t have to. I just knew.”

And then he’s straddling your hips, cock in his hand, eyes dark as sin.

You watch, completely still, as he spits into his palm, slicks it over his length, and nestles the head of his cock between your breasts.

Your stomach tightens.

He reaches down, gently lifts your hands, guiding them to your own body. “Hold them together for me.”

You obey. Press your breasts around him, the weight of them closing snug around his cock. His breath stutters.

“Just like that,” he whispers. “Fuck—just like that.”

And then he starts to move.

It’s slow at first. The head of his cock slides up, nudging under your chin, wet with pre-come. You gasp as it drags back down, gliding slick between your breasts, your skin burning with friction and arousal and humiliation, but god, it turns you on more than you thought possible.

You’ve never done this before. Never even thought about it.

But the way he moans? The way his eyes fall half-lidded, hips starting to stutter as he watches his cock disappear between your breasts?

It wrecks you.

Your thighs press together again. You can feel the wetness leaking out of you — fresh, sticky, proof that even after everything, your body’s still begging.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook groans, one hand gripping the headboard for balance, the other fisting your hair. “You have no idea what this does to me.”

You whimper.

“Look at you,” he pants. “Tits so fucking perfect. Taking all of me. You’re so good—so fucking good—”

The head of his cock taps your chin again, your lips, your throat. You open your mouth on instinct, and he moans loudly.

“You wanna taste it?” he growls. “Wanna suck the tip while I fuck your tits?”

You nod, breathless, and tilt your head just enough to catch him on your tongue the next time he thrusts up.

The sound he makes is filthy.

His hips falter. His jaw clenches. The hand in your hair tightens.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m not gonna last like this,” he chokes out. “You feel too good. You’re so fucking hot like this. I could come all over these perfect tits and still not be done.”

You whine.

He pulls back.

Not because he’s finished — but because he’s holding on.

Barely.

And because he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

He’s panting above you, knees sunk into the mattress on either side of your waist, sweat beading down his chest as his cock pulses between your breasts. The tip is slick, flushed red, twitching with restraint. His eyes are locked on the mess he’s made of your body — your breasts shining, lips parted, your entire body still trembling beneath him.

But you’re not done.

You should be. You’ve come twice, your legs are jelly, your skin is hypersensitive — but none of that matters. Because the longer you stare at him, the more you realize that this isn’t enough. Not yet. Not until you’ve had all of him. Not until you’ve tasted the way he’s falling apart.

Your voice is gone. Your mind’s gone too. All you can feel is heat — liquid and pulsing, low in your belly and behind your knees. You want to be good for him. You want to be filthy for him. You want to know what he tastes like. You want to feel his cock on your tongue.

So you shift beneath him.

Lift your hands to his thighs, fingers sliding up slowly, dragging over the thick muscle until you reach his hips. He watches you with hooded eyes, breathless, lips wet and parted.

You look up at him. And then — without a single word — you stick out your tongue.

The way his expression breaks…

“Holy fuck,” he whispers.

His hand comes down, cradling your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he stares like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You want to suck me off that bad?” he asks, voice rough. “After everything I’ve done to you?”

You nod. Keep your tongue out. Your eyes never leave his.

He growls.

“Say it,” he whispers, thumb pressing into your chin. “Be a good girl. Tell me what you want.”

Your voice is hoarse. Desperate. “I want your cock in my mouth, Jungkook… I want to suck you until you lose it. I want to feel you on my tongue, in my throat. I want to taste all of you. Please…”

His jaw clenches. His hips jerk forward instinctively, the tip of his cock brushing your bottom lip.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters. “Open your mouth.”

You do.

He guides himself in slowly, head pressing past your lips, the taste of salt and musk blooming over your tongue. You groan softly, and he shudders.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, hand slipping into your hair, wrapping it around his fingers like reins. “Fuck, baby. Look so pretty like this.”

You hollow your cheeks, take him deeper. Inch by inch, tongue curled beneath the shaft, your lips stretched wide. His cock slides in heavy, hot, and you let it, eyes fluttering closed as he presses against the back of your throat.

He hisses through his teeth. “God—fuck, your mouth…”

You moan around him.

The vibration makes him groan, hips rolling forward just slightly — enough to make you gag softly around him. Your eyes water. You don’t stop.

Your fingers curl around his thighs. You suck him hard, wet and steady, letting spit drip down your chin, letting it get messy, wanting it to get messy. You want him undone. You want him to lose control.

“Fuck, just like that,” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re so good. You’re fucking perfect.”

He begins to move.

Not roughly. Just slow thrusts of his hips, sliding his cock deeper with every pass, using your mouth like he’s been dreaming about it for months. His hand holds your hair tight. His stomach flexes. You can feel him trembling.

You flatten your tongue. Let him fuck into your mouth.

He starts muttering now — barely coherent.

“Shit… you’re gonna make me come—your fucking mouth—baby, I’m gonna—”

But then he pulls out.

You gasp, mouth open, spit trailing from your lips to the head of his cock.

He’s shaking.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “Not yet. I need to be inside you.”

You’re still panting when he leans down to kiss you. It’s not gentle. He licks into your mouth, like he can’t bear the space between you anymore.

Then he reaches for the drawer.

Pulls out a condom.

And looks down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe.

“Lie back,” he says. “Let me fuck you right.”

You’re already open for him when he returns.

Laid bare, legs parted, lips swollen, chin still shining from spit. Your body aches in the best way — used, touched, ruined — but it’s nothing compared to what you feel when you watch him roll the condom on. His chest is heaving. His thighs are flexed. And his cock, flushed and twitching in his grip, looks almost angry with need.

He climbs between your legs slowly. Like he’s in control.

But you can see it now — the tension behind his smirk. The tremble in his breath. He’s been on the edge since you got on your knees, and he’s barely holding on.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “All spread out for me. Wet as fuck. And you still want more?”

You nod, breathless.

He grins. Then lowers himself, his cock brushing against your folds — not pushing in yet, just slapping it lightly across your entrance.

Once. Twice. A third time, with a wet sound that makes you twitch.

You gasp, hips jerking. “Jungkook…”

He groans. “You hear that? That’s how wet you are for me. All this for my cock, baby?”

You whimper. “Yes. All for you.”

He drags the head of his cock through your folds, slow and filthy, coating himself in your slick. Then he holds himself there — right at your entrance — and still doesn’t move.

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you breathe.

He growls. “Nah. Say it right.”

You whimper again, voice breaking. “Please, Jungkook… I want your cock. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside.”

He exhales like you’ve punched the air from his lungs. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes in.

It’s slow. Torturous. You feel every inch — the stretch, the pressure, the way your walls cling to him. You gasp, head falling back against the pillows, thighs trembling as he slides deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice guttural. “You’re so tight. So warm… shit—like you were made for me.”

Your mouth falls open. “You feel so good, Jungkook… so fucking big…”

He growls at that — hips pressing all the way in until he’s bottomed out.

“Yeah? You like this?”

“Yes,” you pant. “You fill me so good, I—I can’t think—”

“You don’t need to think,” he breathes. “Just feel.”

Then he starts to move.

Slow thrusts at first — deep and deliberate. His hips rock into yours with precision, dragging his cock against every sensitive spot inside you. His body presses into yours with heat and weight and intent, chest nearly touching yours, forearms braced on either side of your head.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Tight little pussy taking all of me like that.”

You moan — helpless, wrecked, desperate.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say it’s mine.”

“It’s yours,” you breathe, voice trembling. “It’s all yours, Jungkook…”

“Say no one else fucks you like this.”

“No one. Just you—only you—”

He groans loud at that, pace faltering for a beat before he starts pounding harder.

He fucks you like he’s trying to leave a mark. Every thrust hits deeper, sharper, hips slapping against your ass. His hand slides up to your chest, gripping one breast, squeezing until you gasp. His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back.

“You wanna come for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please…”

“You gonna let me watch you fall apart again?”

“Yes—fuck, please, Jungkook—”

He shifts, changes the angle, and suddenly every thrust is grinding against your clit just right. You cry out, back arching, thighs trembling. You’re so close. So fucking close.

“Come for me,” he growls. “Come all over my cock, baby. I wanna feel you tighten around me—come like you fucking mean it.”

And you do.

Your orgasm hits like a supernova — legs locking around his waist, mouth falling open in a scream. Your body pulses around him, walls clenching so hard he nearly loses it with you. He fucks you through it, whispering filth in your ear the whole time, praising you, owning you.

When you finally come down, panting and wrecked, he kisses you like he’s starving.

But he’s not done.

Not yet.

You’re still pulsing around him when he pulls out.

You gasp, empty in an instant, your body twitching from aftershocks. He kneels back for a breath, staring down at you like he’s trying to burn the image into memory — your legs splayed, your skin flushed, your mouth swollen and wet with the ghost of his name.

And then he flips you.

Fast.

You land on your stomach with a surprised moan, face sinking into the pillow, arms collapsing beneath you. Before you can breathe, he’s behind you again, spreading your thighs with greedy hands, pressing his cock between your folds.

“Fuck,” he growls, dragging himself through your slick. “You look so good like this.”

He grabs your hips, lifts you slightly, and pushes back in with one rough thrust.

You cry out. Your fingers clutch the sheets.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He just fucks into you—deep, fast, like he’s finally letting go. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, wet and sharp, paired with his ragged moans and your helpless gasps.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, spine arching. “Fuck—Jungkook—yes—”

“You like this?” he snarls. “You like getting fucked like this? Bent over like a toy?”

“Yes,” you pant, no shame left. “I love it—I love your cock—don’t stop—”

He laughs, breathless, feral. His hand slides up your back, tangles in your hair, and pulls.

Your back arches instinctively. The burn in your scalp shoots straight to your cunt. You moan like it’s oxygen.

“Good girl,” he growls. “Take it. Take all of it.”

He thrusts harder, faster. Every stroke knocks a sound out of your throat. Your body jolts forward with the force of it, and he only pulls you back harder.

Then—

Smack.

His palm lands on your ass, hard and hot. You jerk. Whine. Grind back against him.

“Oh, you like that?” he grits out. “You want me to spank you while I fuck you?”

“Yes—yes, please, Jungkook—”

Smack.Again.

Your ass stings, skin heating under each slap, but it just makes everything worse — your walls clamp around him, another orgasm building before you can even prepare for it.

“You’re gonna come again, aren’t you?” His voice is sharp now, breathless. “Fucking dripping. So messy. You love being used like this.”

“I love it,” you sob. “I love it—I love being fucked by you—please—please, Jungkook—”

He grabs both your wrists and pulls them behind your back, holding you open while he slams into you, deep and fast, until your vision goes white.

“Come again,” he orders. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

And when you do, it hits harder than before — your body convulsing, vision tunneling, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your pussy clenches tight around him.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna—”

He groans loud, one final thrust punching deep into you—

And then he’s coming.

Hard.

You feel it — the way his whole body tightens behind you, the heat spilling into the condom as he presses as deep as he can go, panting against your spine, voice raw.

He holds there for a long moment. Breathing. Trembling.

Then slowly, gently, he loosens his grip on your wrists. Brushes a soft kiss over your shoulder. Collapses beside you.

The room is silent now. Just two bodies, sweat-drenched and sore, trembling from everything they weren’t supposed to feel.

Your body’s gone heavy. Limbs lax. Muscles aching in the best way. You’re still on your stomach, hair matted to the back of your neck, thighs sticky, lungs slow to catch up. The sheets are wrinkled beneath you. The whole room smells like sweat and sex and the kind of satisfaction that seeps into the bones.

And then he touches you again.

A hand slides along your hip — warm, calloused — trailing over the curve of your ass and down your thigh. Then it shifts. Moves up. His thumb grazes the underside of your breast, and his mouth follows a heartbeat later.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, voice soft, half-dazed.

He doesn’t answer.

He just mouths at your nipple, lazy and slow, tongue swirling in wet circles while his hand cups the other breast and gives it a greedy squeeze. You gasp. Your back arches instinctively. He hums low in his throat like you're dessert.

“Thought you were done,” you whisper, eyes fluttering.

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop. “I’m never done with you.”

You whimper. Laugh. Try to turn your face away — but he follows. Crawls up your body, kisses you deep and messy, his hand still palming your breast while his tongue slides into your mouth like he owns it. His lips are sticky, hot. You taste yourself on them.

And you melt all over again.

His fingers dig into your ass next. Squeezing. Spreading. Possessive.

“You know,” he rasps, breath fanning over your ear, “I could fuck you like this every day.”

You laugh again — breathless, flushed. “Yeah?”

“Every fucking day.” He groans. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, turning your head slightly, kissing his jaw. “You fuck so good…”

He moans. “You make it easy. Being inside you is like… holy fuck, it’s unreal.”

You roll onto your back, too lazy to fully fight him off. He’s still kissing your chest, dragging his mouth from one nipple to the other, circling slow. His tongue’s warm. Wet. Wicked. Every touch makes you twitch.

And your voice—when it comes—is low and teasing.

“You gonna get off on my tits again, or let me put some clothes on?”

“Don’t you dare,” he mutters, pulling back only slightly, eyes dropping to the mess of your ruined panties on the floor. He picks them up with two fingers, holds them hostage. “I’m keeping these.”

You blink. “Jungkook.”

He grins. “For science.”

You snort, still breathless. “That was…” You exhale hard, letting your head fall back. “So fucking needed.”

He grins. “Anytime. I’m very committed to supporting women in STEM.”

You laugh — fully this time. He tosses you his hoodie, then shimmies into his boxers like he isn’t still half-hard just watching you move. You stretch slowly, aching all over, before sitting up and tugging on your dress without underwear. His eyes darken.

And then, before you leave, you do it — that final little flick of power he never sees coming.

You hook your finger in your mouth. Suck it slowly. Loudly. Let it pop free. Then glance back at him over your shoulder with a sweet, filthy smile.

His jaw drops. He groans. “Oh my fucking god.”

You smirk. “See you around, Jeon.”

And just before you slip out the door, he mutters under his breath, half-wrecked:

“…I’m so fucking in trouble.”

.

.

.

there’s a second and final part already finished and available exclusively now on my private telegram channel (through paid subscription)

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[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 7 - anytime, sunshine

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol, drugs, drink spiking (read at own risk)

you hadn’t planned on going, but the girls wanted you to come so badly and how could you ever say no to them. so there you found yourself standing outside the kappa tau house once again.

you adjusted your outfit, inhaled deeply, and followed the girls in.

you met the others (jj, pope and john b) and started to enjoy the night with them, having drink after drink, letting the alcohol take over.

you felt someone come up behind you and whisper in your ear "didn’t think you’d actually show."

you didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"didn’t plan on it," you replied coldly, raising your cup to your lips, finally turning around to face him.

"and yet, here you are." he gave you a once-over, slow and deliberate. "you look nice princess."

you rolled your eyes. "do you have a tally for how many times you call me that in a day?"

"i could switch it up," he offered, leaning in a little. "angel, pretty, honey, take your pick."

"i’ll stick with none, thanks."

he grinned. "feisty tonight."

"you think i’m joking?"

"never."

"whatever. see you later." you walked away from him without another word.

you joined the girls, ignoring the feeling you had in your chest after your conversation with rafe. why did he have to get into your skin so much?

you got yourself another drink, leaving it on the side as you turned to talk to sarah. "so how's it going with john b?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

sarah blushed, "good, i hope. i don't know. i really like him."

"and he likes you too," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

"you think?" sarah questioned.

"i know so." you giggled, a slight dizziness taking over you.

sarah continued talking, and you laughed at something she said. you went to take another sip from your cup, then paused. it suddenly didn’t taste like anything you remembered.

the music thumped loudly around you, lights flashing, bodies moving, but your own body felt slow, sluggish, like you weren’t fully inside of it anymore.

"hey,” you muttered to sarah, but the words came out wrong, slurred and uncertain. "i don’t feel good."

she turned toward you, worried. "what? what do you mean?"

you tried to answer, but the floor tilted, and your vision swam, turning black. your knees buckled, and someone caught you. strong arms. familiar smell. a voice you would've rolled your eyes at but in this moment suddenly felt like safety.

"woah, hey, easy. i got you."

"wha…?”" you mumbled, gripping his shirt as he steadied you.

"you okay?” his tone wasn’t teasing. it was serious. concerned.

"she’s burning up, he muttered to sarah, putting a hand to your forhead. his arm remaining firmly around your waist. "how much did she drink?"

"not enough to be like this," sarah said quickly, unease etched on her face. "she said her drink tasted weird."

rafe’s expression darkened. "who gave it to her?"

"i don’t know," sarah said, panic rising in her voice.

rafe didn’t wait. "i’m getting her out of here." he hoisted you up into his arms without hesitation, like you weighed nothing at all. you were vaguely aware of sarah’s voice behind you, calling out, but everything sounded like it was underwater.

"i’ll text you when she’s okay," rafe said over his shoulder, his voice tight.

you wanted to protest, say you were fine, that you didn’t need help, but the words never came. your body didn’t feel like your own anymore.

rafe didn’t speak as he walked, carrying you upstairs. one arm under your knees, the other cradling your back like he was afraid you’d disappear.

the next thing you were fully conscious of was soft sheets under your back, your head spinning as you blinked up at unfamiliar ceilings.

"hey, hey," rafe said gently, crouching beside the bed. his bed. you were in his room.

"where-” you croaked, your throat dry.

"my room," he said. "don’t freak out. you passed out, and i didn’t want to take you to some random dorm or leave you at the party. you’re safe. okay?" he slowly moved hair out of your face, his touch lingering.

you studied him, dazed and suspicious. but his voice wasn’t cocky. it wasn’t sarcastic. it was calm. measured. sincere.

"i didn’t- drink that much," you slurred, still defensive even in your state.

"i know." his jaw tensed. "someone fucked with your drink. you got spiked. i'm sorry y/n."

you turned your head away, heart thudding too hard. anxiety rising.

"i shouldn’t have let you out of my sight," he muttered, almost to himself, standing and pacing the room. "i swear to god, if i find out who did it-"

"you’re not… mad at me?" you asked, eyes fluttering as the dizziness came back again.

that made him stop. "mad at you? jesus, no." he walked back over, crouching again to your level. "i’m just glad i saw you when i did."

he handed you a fresh water bottle, his fingers brushing against yours for a second too long. you sat up and drank it slowly as he sat with his back against the wall next to his bed, watching you, almost like he didn’t trust himself to be closer.

you let the silence stretch, your thoughts hazy. his presence was strangely comforting. he didn't say anything, but neither did you. you didn't need to.

you took deep breaths, fighting the nausea but beginning to come back to your senses. "don’t let this go to your head," you mumbled finally, voice small, "but… thank you."

he looked over at you, meeting your eyes, his own softening. "anytime, sunshine."

you didn't even have time to process the new nickname before you passed out in his bed.

a/n: oh he wants the cookie so effing bad

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[xaviersplvshiek1ller]

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine pt2

PAIRING. Sheltered!gojo x pervert!reader

GENRE. Angst

CONTENT making out

SYPNOSIS. Girlie has some secret feelings about her bestie she just had to put on paper but what what will she do when said bestie discovers it

Masterlist

You wouldn’t say the aftermath of the sleepover was awkward exactly because Satoru acted like nothing happened and was completely normal up until he had to leave and kissed your cheek for longer than usual and expressed how much fun he’d had.

Whatever the fuck that means.

It seems he had a little bit too much fun because ever since that fateful night he’s been going to parties and the girls at college are elated that the mysterious Gojo Satoru is showing himself somewhere other than by your side at campus and not only that there have been rumors he’s even been interacting with said girls.

Intimate interactions.

You know you have no right to feel jealous because you’re just a friend, nothing more.

Still, you can’t lie and say it didn’t make you feel some type of way that’s gone from never speaking to other girls unless necessary to barely speaking to you and flirting with a bunch of girls. You also know it’s your fault for accidentally opening his sexual floodgates by giving him the best nut of his life.

Well… not fully because if he’d lost his virginity he would’ve told you… right?

You don’t even know because in 3 weeks he went from texting you good morning and goodnight every day and calling you every day he wasn’t over at your house or you at his— to barely calling and when you called him and he picked up finding every reason to cut the call short.

It’s driving you absolutely crazy.

You shake your head brushing off the worrying thoughts about the state of your friendship as you focus on pulling into Satoru’s huge mansion.

You just got a call from Geto asking you why you’re not at Satoru’s party and if that’s the reason Satoru is acting so wild and out of character. You and Satoru met Geto at college but even tho you met him at the same time you weren’t as close with him as Satoru. The only time you hung out was when Satoru invited both of you.

Both of y’all don’t have any complaints tho because whenever you’re alone (which is not often) it’s always awkward and tense for some reason.

You told Geto not to worry and that you’re coming.

Not wasting any time you dove through your closet for the sexiest dress you own with a pair of matching heels. You did your hair and makeup at lightning speed before pulling out of your driveway so fast you might as well have left skid marks.

If Satoru wants to keep acting up like this you might as well act up too.

A little bit of your bravado flows out of you as you hear the loud pounding of music through the door, you adjust your dress nervously before opening the door.

Your nose is immediately assaulted with the smell of cheap alcohol, sweat, weed, and vape clouds. You consider just straight up walking back out cause this is NOT your scene. You didn’t think it was Satoru’s either but you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

You’re slowly taking a step backward when you accidentally bump into someone.

“I’m so sorry!”

“Y/n? I didn’t expect you to come, and especially not like THIS” Geto raises his eyebrow and waves his hand up and down before shaking his head.

“And what exactly is wrong with ‘this’” You cross your arms in a way that accidentally pushes up your boobs and exposes them even more than they already are in this tiny dress.

“There’s nothing wrong but Satoru is not gonna like this” He smirks

His answer only serves to piss you off even more.

“Well, I don’t think that ‘Toru has much space to judge anymore with the identity switch he’s made recently” You frown as you scan your surroundings for even a glimpse of a white head of hair.

“You searching for Satoru? He went up with this random chick a while ago and honestly good for him he's been a virgin for far too long to be normal” He chuckles softly

“Right.” Your heart drops and breaks into a million pieces.

He can see it in your face because he sympathetically puts his hand on your shoulder but something in his eyes says he's not all that upset about it.

“Well, standing around sulking isn't going to do anything wouldn't it be better if you also have some fun?” He turns you around so you're directly looking at him.

Before you can even reply he grabs your hand and effortlessly weaves you through the crowd toward a spot where a bunch of his and Satoru’s mutual friends are seated.

“Sit here, I'm gonna get you a drink” He leads you to a plush chair before turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

You don't feel like socializing so you just pull out your phone to make one last attempt to contact Satoru. Once again, your messages are delivered.

Your leg bounces as you start thinking about what Satoru could be doing with that girl right now.

Every minute you sit there feels like an eternity

The longer you sit there the more your sadness turns into jealousy and rage. You’re about to get up and storm upstairs when Gojo’s savior Geto comes back and hands you a drink before sitting on a chair next to yours.

“Y/n Are you in or out?”

“In or out of what?” You look up and see you're in a circle and a bottle is placed exactly in front of you on the table.

“Truth or Dare mixed with Spin the Bottle”

You hesitate for a moment. This is so not you, but if Satoru wants to have fun so can you. “Yeah I'm in”

A few rounds passed with daring kisses, exaggerated dares, and nervous laughter filling the room before the bottle spins and lands on you.

Just as it does you see Satoru coming down with an arm around a white-haired girl you faintly recognize from campus as he chuckles at something she says. Like he can feel your glare on them he looks up and straight at you.

His stomach drops.

And you can see it on his face as he freezes in place before shaking off the shock and continuing his act of nonchalance.

“Truth or Dare” Geto nudges you out of your moment of eye contact with Satoru.

You smirk at Satoru before saying “Dare”

The look on Geto’s face is almost demonic which immediately makes you regret you ever even joined this dumbass game.

“Alright, y/n I dare you to kiss the person you're closest to in this room,” He says as he looks back and forth between you and Satoru while smirking.

You look at Satoru and see that he moved to a couch across from you with that random girl seated right next to him with her head on his shoulder so comfortably like she'd done that a million times before. He smirks at you and leans back putting his arms over the armrest, careful to not disturb her head too much.

You seethe with rage as a plan forms in your head.

You smirk before standing up and pulling your dress down a little so your ass isn't out before shaking your head to fluff out your hair. You turn around facing Geto before slowly planting both of your knees on either side of him. Lowering yourself you lean in close to him. His face is riddled with shock.

“Is this okay?” you look him in the eyes nervously hoping he'd go along with your plan.

This is not at all what Geto had in mind when he gave you that dare he just finally saw an opportunity to get you and Satoru together so Satoru would stop blabbering about his unrequited crush on you.

He feels like what you're doing right now might work even better than his previous plan so he leans in. You almost feel his smirk against your lips which are only a hair away from his.

“Yeah, it's fine the real question is are you gonna be fine after we do this? Because the look Satoru is giving us right now is almost murderous”

This information only excited you more.

You smile before gently pecking Geto. Before you could pull back he grabbed your head and smashed his lips back against yours into a deeper hungrier kiss.

You faintly heard whistles and howls from the people around you. You could feel Satoru’s eyes on you but you were more focused on trying your best not to get devoured by Geto as he made out with you in a way that was so different from the way you and Satoru explored with each other. It was almost like he wanted to fully dominate you and was teasing you at the same time. He swiped with his tongue across your mouth once before not even waiting for you to fully open up to force his tongue in your mouth—

Satoru pulled you away from Geto by lifting you under the arms like you weigh nothing, strength fueled by rage. The moment you're off and on the ground he punches Geto across the face once before grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you away.

You full-on cackle as he starts stomping on the stairs throwing a tantrum like he usually does when he doesn't get his way.

Instead of taking you to his bedroom like you expected, he takes you to his bathroom next to it. He turns on the faucet before grabbing the spare pink toothbrush you keep at his house for sleepovers.

“Brush it off”

He cannot be for real right now.

You grab toothpaste and his lightning McQueen toothbrush before spreading a generous glob on it and straight up shove it in his mouth as you start brushing his teeth. Of course not well because of the angle but the message gets across.

“Mmhhghp”

“I don't understand you but if anyone should be brushing anything it's you because who knows how long you were in your room with that girl” you spit out that sentence with so much venom as you start brushing his teeth more aggressively.

He snatches the toothbrush from your hands and takes it out of his mouth before spitting in the sink “Mei-mei?”

The sound of her name makes the anger leave your body and a sinking feeling replaces it. You turn around so he doesn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes.

You’re so stupid for ever thinking you could be more than friends. You’re beyond stupid for even pining for him in the first place.

He looks at your tense back and because he knows you so well he knows it’s a sign you’re pretty distraught.

“Y/n please look at me” he puts his hands on your shoulder and softly tries to turn you around.

You stand your ground because the moment you turn around you’ll fold.

“Please, I promise it was only transactional”

You turn around so fast and choke on a sob.

“What?”

He’d rather pay for it than be with you.

At the sight of you crying Satoru starts getting a little choked up too. He never was good at comforting you. Most of the time he’ll get more upset than you and so you get so busy comforting him that you forget why you’re even upset in the first place.

Not this time.

You hastily open the bathroom door so you can leave.

“Wait! That didn’t come out right” he grabs you by the wrist pleading for you to stop and hear him out but you fight back.

While you try to loosen his gentle but firm grip on your wrist you lose it.

You’re a mess. Screaming, Hair flying, makeup running down your face, dress struggling to stay on your body as all the movement was honestly too much for it.

Satoru pulls you back towards him by your wrist and wraps you in a tight hug with your arms pinned against him so you can calm down.

You guys stand and sway there for a while. Your sobs slowly turn into hiccups as Satoru shushes you and strokes your back.

“We didn’t do anything” he murmurs after you’ve calmed down enough for your hiccups to be less frequent.

“H-huh?” You hiccup.

“Last time when we did the stuff I felt so bad because you were so good to me and I’m so inexperienced so I inquired Suguru about it and he suggested going to parties and practicing with other girls” he hugs you tighter as your semi- relaxed body starts to tense up once again.

“He said what?” You’re furious. Were you tricked? Was Satoru?

“B-but every time I couldn’t even bring myself to kiss them because I realized the only one I want to kiss is you” You look up into his eyes and only see sincerity.

Still. This didn’t explain everything.

You pout and trace circles on his chest “ O-okay that could be true but it doesn’t explain why you were in your room with meh-meh”

“Mei-mei?” He looks away when you give him a murderous look.

“Well, I was at one of the parties completely defeated after another failed attempt at gaining experience when mei— ughm she came and said she saw the entire thing and offered to give me tips in exchange for money. I threw this party so she had a nonsuspicious reason to come to my house without the entire campus gossiping about it but I couldn’t hear her at all so we went to a quieter place which happened to be my room-” He rambles quickly so you don’t misunderstand again but you interrupt him by pecking him.

He relaxes immediately and leans in so your lips can meet again. This kiss is so different from, any kiss you've had before its like stars are tinkering across your skin and tickling you from the top of your head to your toes. Maybe it’s the fact that he's way less nervous than the first time or maybe it's just him. You didn't feel like this at all when you were kissing Geto, while it was nice it didn't make you feel like you're floating like how you do right now.

You break away from him again to breathe and he follows you again but you put your hand on his mouth weakly to stop him from kissing your senses away again “Toru, what does this mean?”

He takes a deep breath before gently kissing your fingers as he removes your hand from his mouth “This means that you're my best friend of course”

He smiles and looks deeply into your eyes as he breaks your heart into a million pieces.

How could he say that? Did he not feel what you just felt?

“What. The. Fuck.���

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TAGLIST. @shokosbunny @nanamineedstherapy

I’m sorry for the cliffhanger and that it took me so long. Also sorry to the ppl expecting actual smut😿🫵🏽

[thefemmefatalexo]

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 21 - Say Something

18+ ONLY

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: i’m really sorry for the long wait my loves. i got my heart broken and i just wasn’t able to continue writing. but i’m better now! hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. keep in mind that this is my first time writing smut so it’s probably horrible lmao. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 20} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84 @stickystay @reneinii @magalimachete @mysteriaqueen @linny-bloggs @loveyislost @amybarnes21

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Toji didn’t chase people.

He never had, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

But three weeks had passed, and you were still avoiding him like the plague—ignoring his texts, pretending he didn’t exist at school, slipping away the second he got too close. It wasn’t just pissing him off. It was driving him insane.

He wasn’t the type to overthink things, but after weeks of silence, of replaying that night over and over again, he was starting to lose his patience.

So, when he found himself standing on your doorstep, fists shoved into his hoodie pockets, he barely hesitated before ringing the doorbell.

Your mom answered within seconds, raising an eyebrow when she saw him.

“Toji?”

“Hey.” He leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head slightly. “She home?”

“She’s out with her friends.”

Toji exhaled sharply, jaw tensing. He should’ve known. You were a damn escape artist at this point.

Your mom hummed, studying him. Then, with a knowing look, she stepped aside. “You can wait in her room if you want.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Walking up the stairs, he found your door slightly ajar and pushed it open, stepping inside for the first time.

It was exactly what he expected.

Your scent clung to the air—something warm and familiar, like vanilla and something softer, something that reminded him of you. Blankets were thrown haphazardly over your bed, little trinkets and books scattered across your desk. A framed picture of you and your friends sat by your nightstand, along with a small polaroid of you at your birthday party last year.

Toji ran his fingers over the polaroid before shoving it into his pocket, then sat on the edge of your bed, shoulders tense.

Now, he just had to wait.

You don’t expect to find anyone in your room when you get home, let alone Toji.

He’s sitting on your bed, one leg lazily propped up, scrolling through his phone like he has every right to be there. But when you step inside, his gaze snaps to yours, sharp and unreadable.

Your stomach twists.

You haven’t spoken to him in three weeks—not a single text, not even a glance at school. And now he’s here. Waiting.

“Toji—”

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up,” he cuts in, his tone dangerously casual. He tosses his phone onto your nightstand and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Was startin’ to think you died or somethin’.”

You force a shaky breath. “What are you doing here?”

His jaw ticks. “What am I doing here?” he repeats, voice low, like he can’t believe you just asked that. “Nah, what the hell have you been doing? Three weeks, and you couldn’t be bothered to text me back?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He scoffs. “Right. ‘Cause that’s all you do now, huh? Run away when shit gets real?”

“That’s not—”

“Bullshit,” he snaps, standing up abruptly. The sheer size of him, the intensity in his eyes, makes your pulse jump. “You didn’t even have the decency to say anything. Just dipped, like I meant nothing to you.”

His words hit harder than you expect. “That’s not true.”

“No?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Then what? You wake up and suddenly decide I ain’t worth your time?”

“I was scared,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Toji doesn’t react at first. He just stares, expression unreadable, before tilting his head. “Scared of what?”

You swallow hard. “I don’t remember anything after we left the party.”

His entire body goes rigid.

“I woke up, and I—” You wrap your arms around yourself. “I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know if I did something I’d regret, if we did something that—”

Toji’s expression darkens. “You think I’d let something happen to you that you didn’t want?”

“No! That’s not what I—” You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. “I just panicked, okay? I didn’t know how to face you after that. I thought maybe I’d ruined things between us, so I just—”

“Ghosted me?” he finishes flatly.

You wince. “I know it was shitty.”

“Shitty?” His eyes narrow. “Nah. Shitty is forgetting to text back once or twice. This?” He gestures between you two. “This was a fuckin’ choice.”

Your throat tightens. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah? Well, congrats, blondie,” he says coldly. “You did.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

Toji shakes his head, pulling something from his pocket. When he grabs your wrist and presses it into your palm, you look down, recognizing your missing earrings.

Your heart clenches.

“There,” he mutters. “Now you got all your shit back. No reason to ever see me again.”

Panic flares inside you. “Toji, wait—”

“Nah.” He steps around you, heading for the door. “I’m done. You don’t want me around? Message received.”

He’s almost gone.

He’s actually leaving.

You don’t think. You just grab his wrist, yanking him back with every ounce of desperation in your body. “Please,” you whisper. “Don’t go.”

His body tenses under your grip, but he doesn’t turn.

Tears prick your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I am so, so sorry. I handled this horribly. I was selfish and scared, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

Toji’s silent, his shoulders stiff.

You clutch him tighter. “I missed you,” you say, voice breaking. “Every single day, I missed you. I just didn’t know how to fix it.”

His jaw clenches. “You don’t get to do that,” he mutters. “You don’t get to disappear and then act like I’m supposed to forgive you just ‘cause you feel bad now.”

You step closer, heart pounding. “Then tell me how to fix it.”

He finally turns, and the look in his eyes nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

Frustration. Hurt. Longing.

You reach for his hand. He doesn’t pull away.

“I swear,” you whisper, “I won’t run again.”

Toji watches you, expression unreadable. Then, with a rough sigh, he tugs you against him, wrapping his arms around you like he’s been waiting weeks to do it.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, y’know that?” he mutters into your hair.

You let out a wet laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

His grip tightens. “Don’t pull that shit again.”

“I won’t.”

He exhales, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze flickers to your lips.

“You gonna run if I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your breath hitches. “No.”

That’s all he needs. His lips crash against yours, and it’s not soft—it’s desperate, frustrated, full of everything left unsaid. You clutch at his hoodie, pulling him closer, and he groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

His hands grip your waist, guiding you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He pushes you down with ease, his weight pressing against you, and heat floods your body.

Your fingers tangle in his dark hair as he kisses you harder, dragging his lips along your jaw, down to your throat. His breath is hot, his touch even hotter, and every inch of you feels like it’s burning.

“Toji—”

He silences you with another kiss, smirking against your lips.

“Bet you won’t forget this time,” he murmurs.

And then his hands start to wander.

You squeal against his lips as he roughly cups your plump ass cheeks and pulls you even closer.

He pulls away, heavily breathing and staring into your eyes for what feels like an eternity.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters, his voice rough as he gently cradles your face and kisses you hard.

Your lips move against his, the world outside this moment fading into irrelevance. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, bodies pressed together as if the space between you was unbearable. The heat of his breath, the way his fingers grip your waist—it’s dizzying.

Somewhere between the push and pull of your embrace, your steps falter. A gasp slips past your lips as you lose your balance, your fingers clutching at his shirt for stability. But he’s just as lost in you, and together, you tumble onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight.

A breathless laugh bubbles from your throat, but it’s quickly swallowed by another kiss, his lips capturing yours again before you can say anything. The sheets crumple beneath you as he shifts, one hand braced beside your head, the other trailing down your arm. Everything about him is overwhelming—the way he tastes, the way he feels, the way he looks at you like he isn’t quite sure how to stop.

Your heart pounds, anticipation thick in the air. The moment stretched between you, heavy with the unspoken, waiting for whatever came next.

Toji starts pressing wet kisses on your jaw, slowly making his way down your neck, leaving you gasping and whimpering.

A cocky smirk finds his lips as he lets his hands wander under your shirt, gently caressing your soft skin.

A shiver runs down your spine as you gently push him away, your hands trembling slightly as you sit up. Your fingers curl around the hem of his shirt, and for a moment, you hesitate. The weight of his gaze burns into you, intense and unreadable, making your pulse race.

Swallowing hard, you finally tug his shirt up, your knuckles brushing against the firm planes of his stomach as you lift the fabric over his head. He helps you, yanking it off the rest of the way and tossing it carelessly to the floor. The sight of him—his toned chest rising and falling with each measured breath—leaves you momentarily breathless.

Toji watches you with dark amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Damn, you gonna stare all night, or…?”

Heat rushes to your face, but you refuse to back down. Instead, you roll your eyes and place your hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. “Shut up,” you mumble, trying to sound annoyed, but the way your voice wavers betrays you.

His smirk deepens as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. “Make me.”

Before you can respond, his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands skimming down your sides. His fingers ghost over the hem of your top, a silent question. You nod—just barely—and he takes that as permission, peeling it off you with agonizing slowness.

The air feels cooler against your exposed skin, but Toji is warm—burning, almost. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re practically straddling him. Your fingers explore the contours of his shoulders, his biceps, the hard lines of his chest.

His lips trail down the side of your neck, lingering just below your ear before he murmurs, “You good?”

You exhale shakily, nodding. “Yeah.”

His hands travel lower, tracing the waistband of your jeans before he effortlessly undoes the button. A nervous thrill shoots through you, anticipation tightening in your stomach as he tugs them down, his touch both careful and firm.

Your own hands fumble with the drawstring of his sweatpants, your heart hammering as you push them down his hips. He helps you, kicking them off until they join the mess of discarded clothes on the floor.

Now, only a thin layer of fabric separates you both, and the realization makes your breath hitch. The air between you shifts—charged, expectant.

Toji cups your face, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. “You ready?” His voice is softer now, the teasing edge gone.

You nod again, more certain this time. “Yeah,” you whisper.

His lips curve into something almost gentle before he pulls you back in, pressing you into the mattress as his hands begin to roam once more.

With an unusual gentleness he spreads your legs and slowly pulls your lacy panties off. His breath hitches in his throat and for the first time in his life Toji feels speechless.

It’s not like he’s a virgin and has never seen a naked woman before but you’re on another level. He finds himself staring at all of your naked glory only to be interrupted by you closing your legs.

“The fuck you doin’?” he asks, his voice gruff.

“You’re staring!” You whine in embarrassment causing him to grin in amusement.

“So? I’m enjoying the view. Now spread your legs f’me, blondie.“

You do as he says and smack his biceps when you notice him smirk again. Your mouth opens to form a response but all you can do is let out a soft gasp as you feel Toji’s warm tongue part your lips and slip inside your warm pussy.

He holds onto your trembling legs while he eats you out as if it were his last meal. You try to close them to get away from the foreign overstimulation but he merely fixes you with a sharp glare before continuing.

Breathless moans leave your flushed lips as Toji lets his wet tongue drag an agonizingly slow lick directly to your swollen clit. You arch your back, burying your fingers in his unruly hair as you come undone.

You think this is it and are about to sit up but Toji only grumbles in displeasure and laps up your juices with his tongue, making sure to revel in your taste. A soft whimper leaves your plump lips as he starts sucking on your aching clit and you can’t help but to pull on his hair. “Toji… s’too much,” You mumble bleary eyed.

“I’ll get’cha next time,” He replies with a smirk, which only widens when you tug on the hem of his boxers shyly. “Use your words, princess.”

You mumble something inaudible causing him to frown at you. He tilts your chin up, caressing your lower lip with his thumb before grabbing your hand and pressing it against his huge bulge.

“Use your words.”

“Please,” your voice sounds breathless but he just clicks his tongue sharply and shakes his head.

“Please what? You’re a big girl. Spit it out,” he quips, slowly guiding your hand into his boxers.

“Please fuck me,” you choke out, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the feeling of his hard cock in your hand.

“Finally.”

With that Toji quickly rips his boxers off, revealing himself in all his glory.

All of the embarrassment suddenly seems to disappear as you’re met with the entirety of his length.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“The fuck you mean?”

“It’s too big. I’m not even trying to stroke your ego but that… thing, is going to split me in half.”

“No it’s not,” he snorts and guides your hand back towards his length, encouraging you to wrap your hands around him again.

You do so with some hesitation but relax slightly as you slowly start moving your hands up and down. A low groan leaves Toji’s lips and you can’t help hut smirk at the sight of his features contorted with pure bliss.

„Fuck princess… You gotta chill or i‘m gonna cum,“ He groans as he pries your hands off of his hard cock.

You feel your face heat up and look up at him as he gently pushes you back onto your bed and gets settled between your legs.

“You ready?” he growls — not really asking. Then he slams in, slow but deep, dragging it out just to feel you take every inch. The stretch burns, your walls clenching around him, helpless to the way he fills you. You let out a broken moan, back arching, fingers digging into the sheets like they could ground you through it.

Instead of moving like you expect him to Toji just stays there, buried deep inside you, letting your pussy pulse around him.

“Fuck,” He mutters, hips flexing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply and starts moving.

He drags out of you slow, just enough to make you whimper, before slamming back in hard. Deeper. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out—just a breathless gasp.

“That the spot?” he murmurs against your neck, his voice thick with heat.

His hips roll again, slow and exact, hitting it perfectly. You nod, dazed, gripping whatever you can reach as your body arches up into him.

You nod, unable to speak and bite your lip to stifle your embarrassingly loud moans.

Toji looks at you in displeasure and leans in closer, softly panting into your ear.

“Cmon princess. Wanna hear those pretty sounds again,” He whispers as he picks up his pace.

You wrap your arms around his strong neck and bury your face into the crook of his neck, moaning as you feel him hit that spot.

“Fuck yeah,” He growls, his head moving downwards to press heated kiss all over your neck.

“Keep on making those pretty sounds for me baby,” He groans against your flushed and slightly sweaty skin.

You were losing your mind. You were getting closer to the edge with each thrust, each rub, and each low growl in your ear.

“Toji… Fuck! M’close..”

“Yeah? Me too- Fuck. Cmon princess… fuck..! Cum f’me.”

You break. Your body shakes beneath him as you clench around him so tightly that he lets out a broken moan. Your scream comes out of your throat, loud, broken, and genuine.

“Ohhh fuck,” he gasps and pulls out just in time to stroke himself twice, thick ropes of cum painting your stomach.

You find yourself lying together, breathless and tangled in the aftermath of everything. Your mind was still a whirlwind, but it was no longer filled with panic or fear. Instead, you were left with a strange sense of clarity.

You and Toji had crossed a line, and now you would have to deal with the consequences. But for now, all that mattered was that you had each other.

You quickly got dressed, the awkwardness now settling between the two of you. You tried to ignore the weight of the situation, but when you both walked down the stairs, you were hit with the reality of what had just happened.

Your mom sat at the kitchen table, her eyes wide and a knowing smile on her face.

“Good evening, you two,” she said with a raised eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort on both of your faces. “I hope you’re both feeling alright.”

You stare at your mom in shock, your mouth wide open as you try to process the embarrassment of the situation. Your mother heard you have sex. Great.

“Toji, you’re welcome to spend the night. I just want you guys to be careful and use protection. Maybe try to keep it down. Your father and I would like to sleep once he gets home,” she says and winks at the both of you.

“Thanks, Mrs. [Y/L/N],” Toji says smoothly, his tone casual. “We’ll keep it down.”

Your mom just smirked, obviously finding this entire situation far too amusing. “Alright then. Just be mindful of the noise,” she added, her voice filled with an almost teasing lilt. “Wouldn’t want to hear anything I’m not supposed to, now, would we?”

Toji’s eyes flickered toward you, and you could see a faint smirk tug at the corners of his lips, but you didn’t want to look. You couldn’t look. You were mortified.

“Well,” your mom said, her tone light. “I’ll let you two get on with it. Good night.”

You and Toji stood there, frozen for a second. Then, with a shared awkward glance, you both slowly made your way to the fridge.

[frid4y]

you always looked past that quiet boy in your classes, occasionally sparing him a glance. that was until he became your partner for a project in a random class. surprisingly, he was friendlier than his appearance. the slight, agitated face he always had gone the moment you spoke, and you learned his name was suguru.

the long nights studying in the library & putting together your project helped blossom a friendship. what you only ever saw the relationship as. sure, he was really good-looking, but he's just your friend, right? along with your hunch that he's inexperienced, it's just the vibe he gives off. he probably wouldn't know what to do if he saw a naked girl in real life. right?

wrong. so painfully wrong. what originally was hanging out in your dorm room turned into suguru thrusting into your dripping cunt from behind, his hand pushing your head down into the pillow, which is stained messily with mascara and tears.

"you gotta be quiet, baby… wouldn't want anyone to hear how much you fucking love taking my cock, would we?" you only manage to let out a muffled moan, making him let out a small hum before your head is pulled up from the pillow and his fingers grip your hair.

two sharp smacks are delivered to your ass, and your lips part to let out a strangled gasp. suguru leans forward and captures your lips in a messy kiss, the sound blending in with the harsh noises of you being fucked stupid on his dick. you can't even remember how this happened. you guys were laughing about something, and suddenly you were being split open by his cock.

you want to let out your moans so bad. desperately beg for him to fuck you harder and deeper. but he's right, you gotta be quiet, these walls are thin. the whole floor doesn't need to know how much of a slut you were. or how bad you're clawing at the sheets of your bed, whining for suguru's cock like you've been starved.

suguru's grip on your hair loosens slightly as he begins to lose himself in the feeling of your pussy enveloping his cock, the feeling of your walls clenching around him being the source of his groans and small whimpers.

your mind and body register that you're getting closer, and you're now pleading for suguru to keep going, not caring how loud you are anymore. it just feels so good, and you just can't contain your moans anymore. the louder you get, the more it spurs him on to help you cum all over his cock. the little words of encouragement, mixed in with degrading names. it was just the perfect touch to make your orgasm hit you harder than ever.

suguru rubs your hip soothingly as your body convulses after that intense climax. "you did so fucking good… but i know this pussy can give me one more, can't she? now turn over, i wanna see your pretty little face while you're being a good little cumdump."

[cautious-soup]

Bully?(I don't need you.)Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Part 6

Part 5 | Part 1

CW// mentions of non-con, mentions of mei mei's relationship with her brother (because jesus christ those two)

Summary: Satoru tries to find a suitable substitute for you, then gets real horny over the outlet by his bed.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤

"Ooouuu, what an adorable dog," you say, scratching under the neck of a husky with snow white fur and blue eyes. It barks amiably, licking your hand and spinning around in excitement.

"Such a good puppy," you coo when it plants its paws on your chest, looking up at you, "Yes you are," you smile and scratch behind its ears.

The dog barks and barks, until it stars to growl. You step back, but it steps towards you. You step back again, watching in horror as it starts to grow in size, bones craking and skin stretching beneath its fur as it transforms into a vicious wolf. It's foaming at the mouth, maw reared back to reveal razor sharp teeth, eyes flaming blue, and your breath is caught with fear.

You try to run, but you feel a heavy weight at your back, like the wolf lunged at you. You feel teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder and cry out. The teeth hurt, yes, but something goes deeper, you can feel it curl around your spine, your heart, your soul, y/n…Y/N? Y/N!

Your eyes slowly open, and your chest is rising and falling heavily like you just ran a marathon. You look up, expecting to see Satoru since he's the only one who wakes you up like that, but it's just your friend.

"Nobara," you wince as you sit up, the pain in your ribs still sharp at times, "Sorry,"

"Don't be sorry—are you ok? You were having like sleep paralysis or something…" Nobara looks up and down your body as if there's traces.

"I'm ok I just had a bad dream, I talk in my sleep too it's no big deal," you say, voice coming out dry and toneless.

It had only been a day, but you were terrified of Satoru finding you somehow. You blocked him and the other number he'd tried texting you on, and checked your phone to make sure he didn't download any tracking apps because that's exactly something he'd do. But you don't find anything. Still, it's hard for you to breath easy.

You get up abruptly, startling Nobara and walking to the window, "Uh, if you could just keep the blinds shut while I'm here—I'll try not to stay long it's just," you turn, and sigh when you see the concerned crease of Nobara's brow.

"Y/N, what the hell is going on?"

You laugh mirthlessly, "It's no use saying, really."

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Unknown Number: did u really think blocking me would work

Unknown Number: u really got me good btw lolol my head still hurts

Unknown Number: and im happy to reciprocate lol

Unknown Number: where r u

Unknown Number: if u apologize now and run into my arms i wont do anything

Unknown Number is calling. . .

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system-

"ffFFUCK—" Satoru jetted his phone across the room, watching it slam into a trophy. Both clattered to the floor. He paced back and forth, holding a bag of peas to his head, continuing to text you.

Unknown Number: yk what

Unknown Number: ur a nobody anyway

Unknown Number: i can bang way hotter than u lololol

Satoru scowled. He could do way better than you, and his current obsession with you made no sense. Nothing about you and him together made sense. He nodded to himself, swiping his thumb across his phone a few times and combing through his contacts.

"Wha'ts Mei Mei up to?" he said to himself, taking all of the thoughts about you at the front of his mind and cramming them as far back and as deep as he could manage.

Yeah, he was better than this—better than you. It was time for him to move on.

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You spend one more day at Nobara's apartment before returning to your dorm. You peek around corners and look over your shoulder, spine stiff and hands balled into fists, waiting to see a flash of white hair.

But he isn't there.

And he isn't waiting for you outside of your class buildings.

And he isn't at the cafe, and he hasn't texted you, and he hasn't called.

So, you go back to your dorm. The coast seemed clear enough.

Eventually, you settle back into your routine, the one you'd almost forgotten about before he showed up. Instead of waking up covered in bruises, hickies and teeth marks, aching all over, you wake up feeling normal. You shower and brush your teeth without anyone hovering over you. You wait in line at the cafe without a hand creeping around your waist, you walked without being shoved froward or yanked back into him. Before you know it, it's nearing finals, and there hasn't been a sign of him.

It was all good, and you waited for the tension in your shoulders to dissolve, but it never did. You feel it constantly, biting down on you, and it drives you insane.

You swear your bed wasn't this cold before.

It's only later when you're at the cafe that you overhear a conversation.

"I dunno who I'm more jealous of," one of the two people sitting behind you says, "I mean, it should be illegal for two people that good looking to be a couple."

"I know right, Gojo's such a dick—like leave some for us yeah?"

"That Mei chick's probably just a gold digger,"

"Is that really such a bad thing though..."

As you listen to the conversation, the tension in your shoulder tightens. Looking around, like someone would be watching over your shoulder, you download Instagram. You had it for a brief time in freshman year, but it just didn't click with you. You can at least remember your password though.

It doesn't take long to find Satoru's account, he's tagged in one of the university's posts about March Madness. You bite your lip, looking around one more time before pressing your thumb on the profile.

You aren't sure what you feel when the first post you see is a picture of Satoru cozied up to one of the most gorgeous women you've ever seen. It should be a relief. He accepted the terms of the bet after all, and he was gonna leave you alone forever.

But the jaws on your shoulder just clamp down even harder.

You check, and the picture was posted a few days ago.

Satoru hadn't wanted to post it to begin with, but Mei Mei insisted. It was her brother who took the photo—good god he was always around, it was the worst. She cuddled with him more than she did with Satoru.

But, he didn't really care. Mei Mei smiled at him sometimes; she never scowled at him, or called him a dickhead or anything like that. It was more than a little obvious that she was dating Satoru for his prospects in the NBA, but he didn't mind. She wasn't dishonest about it or anything—who didn't like money after all?

The sex was good too; Mei Mei gave as good as she got, or rather, as good as Satoru allowed himself to give. In his sex life, you were an anomaly. He'd never raped anyone before, never choked or bitten anyone—mostly because the people he wanted to have sex with wanted him ten times more than he ever wanted them. He considered himself a giver until he met you. No, with the anger he felt after losing his scholarship, he wanted you to hurt. The fact that you didn't want him at first made it better. But then, it was so hard to pull away…

He didn't know what happened. Something came loose inside of him when he met you, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't fit it back into place. The place it was lodged into had changed shape. He had different needs now.

Now, Satoru was looking a couple of nudes that Mei Mei had sent him earlier. Her body was incredible, but Satoru but didn't get hard looking at it, mechanically stroking himself for 15 minutes. He sighed when he noticed his phone was at 9%, and got up to plug it in. He dug around in his bag for the new charger he'd bought, and got on his knees to plug it into the outlet by his bed.

The outlet was weird. Unlike the other ones in his apartment, it was harder to plug things into this one, stubborn. It was like it was a tighter fit than the others, but the things he plugged into it never fell out at least.

Satoru reached up to turn on his bedside lamp to see, then pushed the charger into the outlet. He had to flip it around when it wouldn't go in properly. It was the same resistance as usual, he had to push with a steady force until the charger was flush against the outlet.

His breath was heavy for some reason, and when he looked down at himself he let out a small, "What the hell?"

He was hard.

Satoru looked back up at the outlet. Swallowing, he reached forward and pulled it out of the wall. It took just as much force to pull it out. He looked down at the plug, then at the outlet. He plugged it back in again, swallowing down a groan at how difficult it was to push it all the way in.

Such a tight fit…

Before Satoru knew what was happening, he was on his knees, resting his forehead against the wall and looking down at the outlet, one hand around his cock and the other repeatedly shoving the charger into the stubborn outlet and yanking it out. He whined, tugging at himself harder and slowly pushing the charger back inside. But it wasn't enough. Satoru yanked the charger out and lowered himself a bit more, pressing his tip against the outlet.

"Fuuuck, Y/N," he panted, rutting it against the white plastic, "Ngh fuck, oh my god,"

It was just like you, really, to manifest in his mind like this, in the form of a stubborn little outlet that resisted being plugged.

"Such a tight little—Y/N…shit," Satoru squeezed his eyes shut, fumbling for the tissue box on his nightstand but not making it in time, instead spraying ropes of cum over the outlet, whispering your name like a prayer. Out of breath, he fell back onto his ass, and again onto his back.

He never even plugged his phone in.

Groping along the carpet, Satoru grabbed his phone and thumbed at the screen, sending a text to Mei Mei.

Satoru: yeah so

Satoru: im not really feeling us, mb

Satoru: you left a bra here so come get it whenever

He sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

Part 7 (Finale)

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤

A/N: yeah this is gonna need one more part, but I'm usually quick aren't I?

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 7: 65 Days

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

…Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Sorry for the delay on this chapter!! My laptop broke, so that kinda put writing to a halt for a bit. We're back in business, though!

ALSO!! In incredible and crazy news! @nervousandaggressive made fanart for this fic?!?!?! Which is so cool and I am so incredibly honored that my writing inspired it. I straight up cried when I got the notification, because this is genuinely the coolest thing ever. Links below for the art, and check out their page for their other work :)

Vik in his party outfit from last chapter

And some Vik + Rio sketches!!!

Read on AO3

When you woke in the morning, you told yourself that the memories of last night had just been a dream, the type that turned into a nightmare right before waking up. The ache in your jaw and Lest’s empty bed told you otherwise. Viktor’s heavy coat was still wrapped tightly around you, holding in an unnecessary amount of body heat. You shifted uncomfortably, sitting up on your forearms with a groan. You felt dirty, in the same sweat soaked clothes as last night, makeup smeared around your eyes, and teeth unbrushed. Which, considering the service you had provided last night, was particularly uncomfortable. 

You slid off the bed. You hadn’t felt drunk when walking home last night, but a wave of nausea and the way your legs shook told you that your body was still struggling against the alcohol in your system. You steadied yourself against the bed, waiting out the feeling. When you were sure you’d be able to walk without throwing up Red Bull and vodka, you pulled the blinds shut and began to peel off last night's layers. 

You shrugged out of his coat, inspecting it for any rogue makeup or glitter you may have left on it. Luckily it stayed clean while you slept. During your examination, you did find ‘V. Sýkora’ stitched sweetly into the back of the collar, just above the flannel lining. The red thread was faded and fraying on some of the letters, worn in with the jacket over time. You pressed the collar to your nose, breathing in the scent of him. It was stronger on this than on either of the shirts you had stolen from him, you wished you could live in it forever. He wore this coat nearly every day though, he'd want it back. He probably wanted his t-shirts back, too. Tears pricked your eyes, not at the idea of giving him back his clothes, but at how much of a mess you had let this become.

You sighed, draping the coat over the back of your desk chair and continuing to get undressed. You had fallen asleep fully dressed, only managing to kick your sneakers off before climbing into bed. The tall socks had left itchy red lines around your thighs and the grass stains on the knees reached your skin. You tossed them, along with the rest of your clothes, into your laundry bag before heading to the shower where you were sure to spend most of your time overthinking.

-----

Before your hair even had time to dry, you were hesitating in front of Sky’s door. Every time you were about to step foot onto her cutesy welcome mat, a fresh rush of cowardice would send you reeling back down the hall. You stood there, fine-tuning the apology you had written in the shower for a few more seconds before walking back to the door. You did this what felt like a dozen times. 

You did this until Sky’s door opened on its own as you retreated once again. You gasped and spun around, expecting to see Sky heading out to enjoy her Saturday. Instead you were met with the sight of Viktor in the open door frame. He furrowed his eyebrows, taking you in for a moment before glancing over his shoulder and shutting the door behind him. He took a hesitant step, fist tight around the handle of his cane. His face held the same slight tension as when he was pouring over a new concept in class he didn’t quite understand yet. He opened his mouth, words hanging just behind his teeth, but decided against it. You couldn’t speak to him. Not right now, and to some degree he could tell. He let out a short, shaking breath and walked past you without a word. 

That was enough to force you to Sky’s door, giving a sharp knock before you could back down. Your fists were balled at your sides in an effort to keep you from picking at the skin around your nails. Instead you opted to dig the tips of your nails into the palm of your hands, hard enough to leave marks. When Sky opened the door a tired question of Viktor’s name was halfway out of her mouth, falling short when she saw it was you instead.

“Oh,” She eyed you with a tired hesitation. 

“Hey,” You said, curling your shoulders in on yourself and slouching, hoping to ease any idea that you came here in anger, “Could we…could I talk to you?”

She nodded, still watching you cautiously as she let you into her room. Her bed was unmade and she was still in her PJs. Viktor must have woken her up. Part of you felt bad for interrupting her morning, but this had to happen now or you knew you’d never do it.

“What’s up?” Sky shifted her weight from foot to foot, her arms were crossed over her stomach protectively, fingers yanking at a loose thread on her sweatshirt.

“Sky I…” Your throat closed up, the apology speech you had rehearsed on the walk to her dorm room drying to a crisp on your tongue.

“Listen, It’s fine,” She let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head as she tried to brush you off, “Lest shouldn’t have said anything, it doesn’t need to be a thing.”

“It already is a thing,” You pointed out, nails back to digging in your skin, “Just…give me a second, okay.”

She sighed, looking at you the same way someone would look at a wet stray cat, with pity and disgust.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” She said, turning to the counter under the window behind her. Two used mugs already sat there, she must have offered Viktor the same thing.

“Yes please,” Having something in your hand would make this easier.

Sky pulled out a fresh mug, dropping a teabag in as she started the kettle up. You followed her lead as she took a seat in her desk chair. The other one already angled towards her, where Viktor had been only minutes ago. The water only took a few seconds to boil, already warm from earlier, and she stayed sitting as she reached over to fill the mugs. You took the one she slid towards you, holding it tightly. Letting the hot water reach through the ceramic to burn your palms. She watched you expectantly, waiting for you to say what you came here to say.

You took a heavy breath, hoping you didn’t look too pitiful when you told her, “I’m so sorry, Sky.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her tea. Letting you go on.

“I’ve been a horrible friend,,” You tried to organize your thoughts from earlier, “and I don’t…I don’t expect to be forgiven. I just need you to know that I know. I know how I’ve been acting. I know I’ve been childish and nasty. I knew you liked him, I knew you were talking to him first, and I still crossed that line. I tried to lie to myself and say it didn’t matter, that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but we both know that’s not true…” 

You let out a shaky breath, realizing your apology was on the verge of becoming a jumbled mess, “And I’m so so sorry. If I could go back and undo it all, I would…but I can’t. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Sky stared into her mug. Chewing on the inside of her cheek as she conjured up a response.

“Viktor turned me down,” She told you, meeting your eyes and giving a sad laugh, “Just now. Part of me knew he would when I asked him out, but when he didn’t give me an answer right away, I just…hoped I guess. I shouldn’t have, I mean, he’s obsessed with you. I don’t think everyone else sees it yet, but for months I’ve been watching him watch you.”

“Sky I-” You shook your head, trying to protest, but she raised a hand to stop you.

“C’mon, I know you know,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes at you, “How couldn’t you? It honestly baffles me that you won’t just date him, like fucking around with him at parties and spending all your time with him isn’t practically the same thing.”

You tried to hide the way her words made you flinch. You wondered if the rest of your friends could see what was going on. If you were really this obvious. 

“I never thought you’d be…mean?” She said the word like it wasn’t quite the right descriptor, “To me. Despite all of it. Despite the fact that I am certainly not a threat to whatever it is you want from him. Then last night you went out of your way to get what you wanted, because you always have to get what you want.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, she didn’t let you.

“Don’t pretend like it wasn’t on purpose. I saw you.” She said, leaning forward in her seat, “I saw you last night, watching us. The second you decided he was giving me too much attention, you took him back, blew him in the backyard to remind him who he really wanted.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes, blinking them back. Urging them not to fall. It was an odd feeling, to be scolded by the kindest person you knew. It was embarrassing.

Sky gave an exhausted sigh, “But, at some point I think I moved on without realizing it. I expected it to hurt when he told me no. I expected to be a mess, the kind that can only be cleaned up by romcoms and a pint of ice cream. But, when he gave me his answer, I didn’t care. I’m glad he apologized for being a dick,” She laughed softly, “But I’m also glad he didn’t decide that he wanted to be with me all of the sudden, because that's not what I want anymore.”

You stared down at the undrank tea in your hand. Still hot, but going cold as you tried to piece together what she was saying.

“Basically,” She huffed, “I just don’t give a fuck anymore. You and Viktor can do whatever the hell you want. Fuck him, marry him, kill him for all I care,” She snorted a laugh, you could feel the tension ebbing away, “I don’t want him. All I want is for everything to go back to the way it was. I miss hanging out with you without feeling like you want to push me into traffic.”

Her tone was joking, but the idea that she had been able to sense the misplaced animosity you harbored was rough.

“I…okay,” You nodded, setting the tea to the side, “So we’re good?”

“Mostly,” She said, as you both stood up, she let you pull her into a hug, her curly hair tickling your cheek as she decided to reciprocate, holding you close to her. She laughed against your shoulder, “You and him are still dickheads, though, and you’re lucky I’m not vindictive.”

You laughed, “I know. I’m glad you're being…cool about this. But I want you to know I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgive me. I do really love you, Sky, I should never have let myself act like that.”

She pulled away, hands on your arms, “Do me a favor and work on that jealousy thing, yeah? You’re too pretty to act like that, really.”

“Okay, mom,” You laughed, “Can I get you lunch today? I know you said we’re good, but I’m still willing to buy your forgiveness.”

“Not today,” She said, squeezing your arm and stepping back, “Me and Lest have plans, but next time we get drinks, it's on you.”

You tried not to flinch at the mention of Lest. She had spent the night here as far as you knew. She must have been heading back to the dorm as you were on your way here. Sky was quick to forgive, even if you didn’t deserve it. Lest, on the other hand, was going to be a wild card. She was most likely still carrying all the rage that Sky refused to cling on to. You wondered if she’d still be in the room when you got back. You weren’t sure if you wanted her to be or not.

On the way out, you grabbed Viktor’s jacket from a coat closet that probably hadn’t been used since the dorm had been built over half a century ago. You had hid it there as you came into the building, knowing that wearing his coat to talk to Sky would’ve been a bad look. You realized you should have told Viktor to grab it on his way out. It’d be fine. You were heading to his house anyways, your truck was still parked in his driveway. If you were lucky you’d be able to drop his coat off and snag your keys without running into him.  

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. It was that you had no idea what to say to him. You had created this mess of friends and feelings and bad decisions, and it was going to take more than one conversation with Sky to smooth it all over completely.  You didn’t bother zipping up the coat as you stepped outside. You let the cold air slither in along your body, embracing the bite of it as a kind of punishment for your mistakes.

You flinched as a grey car came to a stop against the curb a few feet in front of you. You bristled, preparing to tell off whatever man felt like bothering you today. When the window rolled down, you found yourself wishing it had in fact been a random man.

Viktor watched you in the side mirror, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” You lied, refusing to move closer to him. 

“Your dorm is in the other direction,” He pointed out, when you didn’t say anything he sighed, “Would you like a ride to pick up your truck?”

“No, it’s fine.” You shook your head, “I can walk.”

He scolded you with your name, “It’s five degrees, you’ll get sick.”

“It was colder last night,” You said stubbornly, feet planted.

“Yeah, well you were drunk and upset last night,” He said, “And you shouldn’t have walked home in the first place.”

“Why do you care so much?” 

“God above,” He groaned, shaking his head. The backlights of the BMW lit up as he shifted into reverse and backed up until his window was where you were standing. “Because you are my friend and I care about your wellbeing. “

You crossed your arms over your chest, fighting off a shiver as a particularly strong gust of wind pushed against you, “I’m fine.”

He rubbed the space between his eyebrows, eyes squeezed shut, “Get. In. The. Car.”

You resisted the urge to stomp your foot on the ground like a toddler. Instead you walked around the front of his car, dropping yourself into his passenger seat. You shut the door with more force than necessary and turned to him with a huff, “Happy?”

“Yes,” He nodded, putting the car into drive, “Put your seatbelt on.”

“Put your seatbelt on, please,” You leaned over, looking at him pointedly.

He rolled his eyes, then plastered a sickeningly sweet expression on his face, “Will you please put on your seatbelt, Darling.”

“Hm, that’s more like it,” You turned up your nose, sitting back in your seat and buckling up. 

“Spratek,” He muttered under his breath as he pulled the car away from the curb.

You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you were glad you accepted the ride. His car was warm and overly clean and smelled like him. It felt like him, too, all clean lines and stoic shapes. Your European car knowledge was certainly lacking, but there was something eerily familiar about the interior of his car. 

“Is this a…Touring,” You asked, running a fingertip over the handle of the door.

“Yes,” He confirmed, “19…89, yeah, 89. Not the nicest car in the world, but it does the job.”

“It’s the same car my first boyfriend had,” You scoffed, thinking about the junker you had spent too much time in, “I hated it. It was ugly and red and a mess all the time… lost my virginity in that piece of shit car.”

“Oh, hm, I’m…sorry,” He said it like a question, a little taken off guard by the admission.

“I like your’s more,” You mused, leaning back and watching campus grow smaller in the side mirror, “It’s nicer, feels better. The car, I mean… well, I guess the sex, too.”

You laughed softly at your  own words, looking over to find a blush gracing his cheeks. 

“Thank you,” He nodded awkwardly, staring straight ahead. The way his demeanor shifted never failed to amuse you. One second he’s demanding you get in his car like he owns you, the next he’s turning red when you mention you liked having sex with him. 

“So…” You led, spinning one of your bracelets around your wrist, “What did you say to Sky? You don’t have to tell me… just curious.”

“I apologized,” He said, shrugging, “and I told her that I am not interested  in her in that manner, and I shouldn’t have led her to believe that I was by not turning her down immediately. I did tell her that anything that is happening between us is none of her concern.”

You hummed to yourself, taking in his words. The way he said ‘us’ left a weight in your chest. Us. Us. Us. 

“What about you?” He asked, glancing over, “What did you say?”

“I apologized for being a jealous bitch,” You scoffed, picking at the edge of your nail, “For being mean to her, breaking ‘girl-code’ and all that.” You rolled your eyes, feeling childish.

“I don’t understand,” He frowned, “What are you jealous about? What’s girl-code?”

“Girl code is basically, like, rules we’re supposed to follow,” You shrugged, realizing you had never had to explain the weird intricacies of being a girl to a man other than your father, “I mean, not like hard and fast rules, but basic stuff. Guys have the same thing, I’m sure. Things like keeping secrets or protecting each other, ya know. The number one rule, though, is to never ever fuck around with a guy your friend is interested in. Like, ever.”

“Hm, that only seems partially reasonable,” He said, “I told you that I was not interested in Sky before we had sex.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t matter,” You said, “I knew she liked you, and I fucked you anyways. That wasn’t cool.”

“But even if we had not had sex,” He frowned at the road like he was looking at chemistry on a chalkboard, “It wouldn’t change the fact that I am not interested in Sky.”

“Yes, I know, but that's not the point,” You exasperated, “It’s the principle of it.”

“That is dumb,” He said plainly.

“Well, fine, you can think it’s dumb,” You tossed your hands up, “But that doesn’t change the fact that I hurt Sky’s feelings.” 

He was quiet for a moment, “How did she respond?”

“Graciously,” You sighed, “As always.”

“Why do you sound disappointed?” He asked, the car slowing as he pulled into the neighborhood.

“I’m not, It’s just that it felt,” You hesitated, trying to find the right words, “too easy? I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know… I mean, she said that she doesn't care anymore,” You shrugged, “that she wants things to go back to normal and everything to just be cool, but I’m worried she’s still upset. That she’s just forgiving me to make it go away?”

“Well, if she is forgiving you before she’s ready,” He said slowly, “Then, that would be her problem, no? It’s not like you forced her to forgive you.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess?” Damn him for being so practical. You opened your mouth to continue to debate but he cut you off.

“Listen, you are not responsible for how other people feel,” He looked over sternly, “You apologized to Sky and, whether she’s ready to or not, she forgave you. At this point, it sounds more like you don’t forgive yourself, regardless of what she is feeling.”

Read you like a damn book. You huffed, dropping your head into your hands and scoffing a laugh, “I didn’t realize you were so introspective.”

“Jinx called me a fortune cookie last week,” He told you, “I’m not introspective, I’m just observant…and I think you are being too harsh on yourself. What good comes from dwelling on something that you aren’t even sure of?”

“I’m a scientist,” You laughed, leaning back in your seat, “Dwelling on the unknown is kind of our thing, right?”

“Kind of,” He agreed with a soft laugh, “But this is unproductive dwelling, not scientific dwelling.”

He slowed to a stop outside his house, car idling but not in park, both of you hesitating. Raindrops were beginning to darken the sidewalk and slide down the sides of your truck that sat waiting in the driveway. The wind whipped around a tree in the front yard.

Viktor spoke your name cautiously, “Do you have plans today?”

“No.” You said, looking over and meeting his eyes.

“Do you want to go on a drive?”

“Yes,” You spoke before he even finished his words and he was pulling away from the curb as you finished yours. 

Picking up your truck and going back to your dorm room ment you’d either be laying around all day overthinking or you’d be having a conversation with Lest. You wanted to talk to her, you did, just…not right now. Sky had seemingly forgiven you, but that wasn’t a guarantee that Lest was in the same mood. Being on the good side of Lest’s rage, you knew how long it took for her to cool down. Being on this side was new to you, but you knew well enough to leave her alone for as long as you could. You weren't sure of Viktor’s reasoning for not going home, but you were grateful either way. 

He just drove and you let yourself relax into the passenger seat. You watched him drive. Watched the perfect side profile of his face as he focused on the road, only moving as he glanced in the mirrors. He looked relaxed for the most part, but the tiniest motion of his eyes and lips let you know that thoughts were racing through his head. He glanced over you sideways, the corner of his mouth tugging just slightly upwards as he met your eyes.

“What?” You caught the slightest sight of his canine when he smiled.

“Nothing,” You shrugged not looking away from him, “You’re just nice to look at, is all.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the blush creeping past the collar of his sweater, “You are a strange girl.”

“Maybe,” You said, leaning forward to pull his jacket off your shoulders, you kept it gathered up on your lap.

“Here,” He grabbed his phone from where it was under the radio, an aux cord already plugged in, smirking as he handed it to you, “Stop staring at me and be useful, yeah?”

You scoffed, teasing him, “You thought I was useful last night…”

Another blush, he looked away from you this time as he sputtered, “Just- Just play the music, okay?”

“Yes sir,” You nodded firmly, taking his phone already opened on his music app, “Any requests?”

“Hm, no you choose.” He told you, hitting the blinker as the highway entrance came closer, “Just no Radiohead.”

“No Radiohead?” You mocked a gasp, “But If I wanted to be insufferable today?”

“I was insufferable enough for the both of us this morning,” He told you, “Pick something else.”

You laughed thinking about him listening to Thom Yorke whining over his radio as he drove to apologize to Sky, “Fine, but if it starts really raining later, we’re listening to In Rainbows, it’s only right.”

He just shook his head at you lightly as you scroll through his music to pick something. You took your time combing through his music. You always thought that music taste was the most telling aspect of a person. Some were what you’d expect from a guy like him - Radiohead, Arctic Monkeys, Fiona Apple, Jeff Buckley - some others you were a little surprised by - Paramore, Boygenius, Maya Hawke, Deftones - all of it what you’d consider good music. You were pleased to see female artists in the mix, older music, newer music, some classical and jazz, a few movie scores. Most of the albums were in English, a handful were in what you were pretty sure was Czech, and you could see one or two that were in Spanish - the same albums Jayce had put you onto. 

You picked one of the ones you thought was in Czech, the green and white cover art interesting enough to get your attention. He made a little noise of surprise when the first song started playing.

“You know this band?” He asked, an eyebrow raised as he glanced at you.

“No,” You told him, the music was definitely pop, teetering on the edge of bedroom pop, “The cover looked cool, what does ‘nedělní Luka’ mean?”

“Sunday Luka,” He told you, “This EP is good, I’m not a huge fan of the stuff they released after this. They're a pretty good band, though.”

“Hm, interesting,” You tapped your thigh to the beat, listening to the words you didn’t understand, “I like this alot actually.”

“Even though you don’t understand the lyrics?” He smirked.

“Eh, I mean I like the Cocteau Twins and I definitely don’t understand the lyrics even though they're mostly in english,” You shrugged, “I’ll google the lyrics to this later, probably. Can I text it to myself?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, “I can send you more czech stuff if you want?”

“Make me a playlist?” You asked, knowing how hopeful you sounded.

He laughed softly, “I can do that, I’ll pick the best stuff. Round out your music taste a little.”

“Hey, I have great music taste,” You scoffed in mock offense as you copied the link to the album and opened up his contacts. 

You found your own number easily, starred at the top of the list along with Jayce and who you figured was his mother. You bit back a smile at the little ‘<3’ he had put at the end of your name. The picture above it wasn’t one you remembered him taking. It was from much earlier in the semester, when the weather was still nice. You were laying in the grass, probably on the quad telling by the abandoned textbook next to your shoulder, wearing that white sundress that only came out when the weather was particularly good. Your hands were behind your head, eyes closed as you basked in the sun. It was a good photo, you wondered if he’d be embarrassed if you asked him to send it to you.

A little embarrassment of your own was lifted off your shoulders. Clearly he stared at you as much as you stared at him.

You closed his phone before the urge to scroll through his camera roll became too strong and put it back where he had it originally. The eastbound highway that stretched out in front of you was fairly empty, rush hour having just ended. He stayed in the middle lane, shifting gears as he passed other cars he deemed to be going too slow.

“Where are we going?” You asked idly, reaching over to his hand that rested on the gear shift and pulling the cuff of his sweater between your fingertips. It was a little rougher than you had expected, You wondered if it was homemade. 

He pulled his hand away from the shifter and caught your hand, fingers lacing into yours. In a friendly way of course, “Unsure, anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”

“Hm, wherever,” You told him, rubbing your thumb over the side of his hand.

“Let’s just see where we end up, I guess,” He shrugged, glancing over at you, “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” You agreed, squeezing his palm.

You learned pretty quickly that Viktor preferred to drive fast. You noticed him glancing over for your reaction each time he really stepped on the gas. It was sweet, though you didn’t mind the speeding. You trusted him not to kill you in a fiery car wreck, maybe a little too much. When the highway had narrowed, he was forced to slow down, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and clearly doing his best not to tailgate the people in front of him. 

------

You weren't sure how long you had been on the highway. You hadn’t taken notice of the time when getting in Viktor’s car, but it was long enough for the suburban sprawl of Piltover to give way to dense pine forests divided only by farmland and tiny towns. Eventually the highway narrowed down to two lanes, winding through the trees until it hit the coastline where it took a sharp curve north. You watched the sprawl of the Atlantic outside your window, the waves dark and rough due to the weather. It had stopped raining above you, but out over the water you could see torrents falling in dark grey sheets. 

An irritated noise from him pulled your attention away from the oceanscape to your right. He was pouting at the car in front of him, thumb bouncing against the side of the steering wheel. You looked ahead at the car in front. An old sticker covered a Subaru wagon, not going below the speed limit, if anything it was probably going almost ten over. Clearly that was not fast enough for Viktor, and a fairly consistent stream of traffic on the other side of the highway kept him from passing. 

You laughed, leaning forward to examine the stickers on the car in front of you, “You’re in quite the rush to go nowhere, aren't ya,”

“Hey, I’m not rushing,” He insisted waving a hand at you, “I just want to be driving faster.”

“Well chill out speed racer,” You rolled your eyes at him, “You’re probably freaking out this poor lesbian in front of us, she’s gonna start break-checking you.”

“How do you know she is a lesbian,” He scoffed, but eased off the gas to give the subaru more space.

You leaned forward and read the sticker that had caught your attention, “I like my men how I like my coffee. Not at all, I prefer tea.”

Viktor barked a laugh, “Sounds like Cait.”

“Oh my god, literally,” You giggled, wondering if you'd be able to find a similar one online to gift her. You read out another sticker, “Honk if you think the moon landing was fake.”

“I don’t understand those,’ Viktor admitted, “Does that mean the driver thinks the moon landing was fake?”

“No, I think it means, like, ‘if you honk at me for my bad driving, you're actually admitting you think the moon landing is fake’ or something like that,” You explained, remembering when Lest had explained the same thing to you only a couple of years ago. 

“Hm, Interesting.” He nodded.

“What do you think?” You asked, leaning back in your seat.

“About?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“The moon landing,” You said, “Do you think it was fake.”

He side-eyed you, eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Do you think it was fake.”

“Well, not exactly.” You shrugged.

“Not exactly!?” He gaped at you, glancing between you and the road, “Actually, we’re going home.”

“No no, wait listen,” You laughed waving your hands at him in defense, “I don’t think the moon landing was fake! I one hundred percent believe that those guys were up there in ‘69.”

“Sakra, ‘those guys’?” He scoffed, “Really, are you not a scientist.”

“Hey, listen I know their names. But the good one is dead and the other is a psycho republican,” You laughed, “plus I’m not a space gal, you know that. I find the ocean far more fascinating.”

“Okay, okay, anyways,” He steered the conversation back to your original question, “Do you think the moon landing was fake?”

“No, like I said, I’m sure they were on the moon, but,” You held a hand up at Viktor, forcing him to let you finish, “I wouldn’t be that surprised if one day it was admitted that the footage everyone knows is fake.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, fighting back a smile, “I supposed that is an acceptable take, but you’re on thin ice.”

“I can give you some more of my bad takes if you’d like, but you might not want to hang out with me anymore,” You laughed, a growl from your stomach cutting you off.

“It’s past noon,” Viktor pointed out, laughing with you gently, “What was the last thing you ate? Did you have breakfast?”

You thought for a moment about the question. When you realized what had technically been the last thing you put in your stomach, you burst into a fit of laughter, and covered your reddening face.

“What?” He asked, confused as you tried to pull yourself together. 

“Nothing, it’s just, uh,” You bit back a smile and glanced down to his lap pointedly, “nothing.”

“Oh, fucking gross,” He scoffed, pushing your shoulder away from him playfully.

“You didn’t think it was gross last night,” You pointed out, teasing him with a poke in the arm. 

“Stop,” He pleaded, looking away from you, his face turning red as he resisted laughing.

“Oh come on,” You said, leaning closer to him, chin almost resting on his shoulder as you invaded his space and dropped your voice, “You don’t have to be shy about it, you can admit you loved coming in my mouth.”

He swallowed hard, hands tightening on the steering wheel in your peripheral vision, “You are very hard to deal with sometimes.”

You tapped your fingers against the bottom of his chin quickly before retreating back to your own space, “You wouldn’t like me very much If I made it easy on you,”

He didn’t respond to that, just shook his head as he hit his blinker and pulled into the center lane, “Well I’m making you eat something that has calories.”

“I’m sure cum probably has some calories, right?” You said only to get a rise out of him.

It worked perfectly of course, he whined your name, “stop talking. If you mention that one more time, I’m sending this car into the ocean with us in it, I swear to god.”

You raised your hands in defense, silently vowing to keep quiet as he waited to turn into the parking lot of a worn out roadside diner.

“Thank you,” he sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled into the lot.

Gravel crunched under the tires as the Beamer slid into a parking spot. The diner was incredibly unassuming. Weathered and faded, but fairly busy with a Saturday crowd. You stretched when you stepped out of the car, shoulders popping as you pushed your hands to the sky. Viktor freed his cane from the back seat, waiting for you by the hood. When you reached him, he was twisting his spine awkwardly, a hand on his hip and a grimace on his lips as he tried to pop his stubborn joints. 

“You good?” You asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m used to it,” He groaned, then motioned for you to come closer, “Actually, could you come here.”

You stood in front of him, looking up as you were only a foot away. He took your hand gently, placing it on his hip, “Just, like, resist against me when I turn, yeah?”

You nodded, pressing against his hip. You did as he asked, holding his hip back as he rotated his upper body the other direction. A loud pop came from under your hand, and he hissed sharply before relaxing. He sighed, straightening up and grabbing his cane from where he lent it against the hood of the car.

“Feel better?” You asked him, looping the hand on his hip around his lower back instead of retreating, 

“Very,” He nodded, dropping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer, he squeezed the top of your arm, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” You returned the gesture, squeezing his hip where your hand rested as the two of you walked up to the diner door.  

Inside it was warm, the smell of coffee permanently staining the air. The space was narrow but long, almost ironically classic in the way it was set up. A long counter was against one side and booths were pressed to the windows. The counter was occupied by blue collar men in their work clothes. This close to the coast you were sure they had all just come in from an early morning catch. They reminded you of your dad. 

“Go on ahead and find a seat anywhere, kiddos,” An older woman behind the counter waved at you before pouring another cup of coffee, “Someone will be with you in just a second.”

You nodded and followed Viktor to an open booth, untangling yourself from him to slide into the vinyl seat. He watched you from across the table for a moment before dropping his gaze.

“What did you mean earlier, by the way?” He asked, picking at the edge of a sticky menu.

“What?” You tilted your head, unsure of when exactly earlier was.

“You said that I wouldn’t like you if you made it easy,” He said, mouth quirking to the side as he thought about the moment, “What did you mean by that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” You shrugged, chewing on your lip, “I guess…just most of the time, guys tend to like the chase more than the actual girl. It’s fun.”

“And you think I am like this?” He asked, meeting your eyes almost sadly.

“I don’t know,” You said honestly, “I mean, you don’t have me. Who's to say you’d still like me as much if you did?”

“I would,” He said firmly, “I know I would.”

Before the conversation could continue, a waitress appeared at the end of the table. An overly sweet smile plastered on her face, curly blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail on the crown of her head. She looked between you, eyes hesitating on Viktor just a second longer than you would have preferred. 

“Good morning, my name’s Nancy, I’ll be taking care of y’all today, ” She said, her voice was high and smooth, “How are you two doing?”

 “Good Morning Nancy, we are well, and you?” Viktor responded, polite as ever.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking,” She smiled wider, glancing at you briefly, “Can I get ya started with some drinks?”

“Just coffee for me,” Viktor told her, looking to you for your response.

“Me as well,” You nodded, attempting your best polite smile. She was just being friendly, you told yourself. It’s her job to be nice.

“Two coffees,” She repeated as she scribbled down the order, “Room for cream?”

“Yes please,” Viktor answered.

“Mine too,” You copied him. Normally you’d just drink diner coffee black, but that nasty little voice in the back of your head was answering for you.

“Easy-peasy,” She said, “I’ll have that right out for y’all.”

You watched Nancy walk away, curls bouncing as she went to get the coffee. Viktor was paying no mind, already skimming through the menu. You picked up your own. Standard diner food, easy enough to choose from. 

“What’re you getting?” You asked casually, glancing up at him over the menu.

“Hm, unsure,” He hummed, glancing up and catching your gaze, “Choose for me?”

“That’s a lot of trust,” You laughed, leaning back in your seat and raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged, “I trust you.”

“Okay, then,” You looked over the menu again, “Breakfast or lunch? And what do you hate?”

“Breakfast,” He nodded, “And nothing, I don’t think…eh, actually, no sourdough bread.” 

“You don’t like sourdough? That’s crazy, it’s like the best bread,” You scoffed, offended on behalf of the baked good.

“No, actually, I really like sourdough bread,” He said, “but, I’m sorry, it’s not very good in America.”

“That's a very European take,” You rolled your eyes, “You guys always think you’re better.”

“Listen, with this I am right, trust me.” He assured, “America does have some better… things.”

“Hm, like what?” You smirked at his tone.

“Most fruit is better here,” He nodded with an air of nonchalance,  “Oranges and pineapple, mango as well.” 

“Oh yeah?” You asked, pretending to be busy with the menu despite having already made a decision,  “Good fruit is a plus, for sure.”

“The women here are different, too.” He nodded, “All smiles and low-cut shirts. Very…eager to please.”

You scoffed, glancing back up at him with a retort on your lips already. It died in your mouth when Nancy, with her low cut shirt and wide smile, returned to the table with a set of mugs and a pot of coffee.

“Sorry about that wait,” She laughed, setting the mugs down and beginning to fill them, “Technical difficulties.”

“No worries at all, Nancy,” Viktor said smoothly, sitting up, “Thank you.”

“Of course, honey,” She drawled, you tensed at the term of endearment, “Are you ready to order or do you want a few more minutes with the menu?”

“We’re ready,” You jumped in, immediately regretting how snappy your voice was.

“Perfect,” She stayed facing Viktor, “When can I get going for ya?”

Viktor turned his face to you, nodding for you to go ahead.

“We’ll have the Florentine benedict,” You told her, placing the menu down in front of you.

“Perfect,” She said, turning halfway to you as she wrote it down, “Fries okay with that?”

“Yep.” You nodded and before she could ask, “and he’ll have the same thing.”

She turned to him anyway with a questioning look that he either didn’t see or chose not to acknowledge, “Okay, well, I’ll have that out for you here soon. Holler if you need anything.”

“Thank you, honey,” You gave a tight smile as she walked away.

“Ah, I see it now,” He nodded, narrowing his eyes at you slightly as he pulled his coffee towards himself.

“See what?” You leaned your chin on your hand, circling the rim of your coffee cup with the other.

“That jealousy you were speaking of earlier,” He smirked, “I hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe you hid it better, maybe there was too much going on.”

You hummed, nodding slowly as a blush creeped up your cheeks, “Maybe you just didn’t notice me.”

“That is funny. If there is anything I notice in a room, it is you,” He told you, then casually as if he hadn’t just said what he said, pushed the bowl of cream and sugar packets towards you, “Sugar?”

You swallowed hard, then pushed your mug towards him, “Make it for me?” 

“Are you sure? I make mine sweet,” He warned.

“I trust you,” You pushed the mug farther until it was next to him, “I’m not jealous, by the way.”

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief, “So you were just glaring daggers at the waitress for fun?”

“I…I wasn’t,” You huffed, poorly defending yourself.

“You know,” He began, tearing open a few packets of sugar and pouring it into your coffee, “I don’t find jealousy attractive, but on you…it’s endearing.”

“Well, that’s sweet, but I’m not jealous.” You said sternly.

“Ah, okay,” He poured the same amount of sugar into his own drink, followed by a couple creamers, “So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked Nancy for her number.”

“Viktor, don’t fuck with me,” You deadpanned, frowning at him.

He laughed, sliding your made up coffee to you. Before his hand retreated, he grabbed you gently by the wrist. He held your hand in his, lifting it off the table and examining your palm, “Jealousy does look good on you, but you should know by now,” He flipped your hand over and leaned closer, “It is wholly unnecessary, milá.”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, lingering for a moment as he watched you through his lashes. 

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning as he pulled back from your hand. He held your hand for a moment longer before letting you retreat. You picked up the coffee he made up for you, taking a sip. It was sweet, sweeter than you’d normally make it. You liked it. You fought off the idea of tasting the same coffee on his lips. 

“You like?” He asked, siping his own drink.

“Yeah, it’s good,” You nodded, taking another sip before setting it down, “Thank you.”

“Hey, tell me more about these theories of yours,” He said, setting down his mug.

“Theories?” You tilted your head.

“The moon landing happened, but the footage is fake,” He laughed, “You said this earlier, I’m interested in what other baseless theories you have?”

You barked a laugh, “Okay, sure. My other space theory is that I do believe aliens exist. Like, the universe is theoretically infinite, right? It’s crazy to think that we are the only planet with living things on them, advanced or not. That being said! I do not believe aliens have ever been anywhere close to Earth.”

“Oh, really?” He mused, thinking about it, “Why?”

“Because, what the fuck do aliens want with us?” You shrugged, “Plus, if they’re gonna go through all that trouble to make ships or do whatever it would take to get from there to here for whatever reason, you really think they’d let themselves get caught by the American government? No way.”

“You’ve really thought about this, haven't you? ” Viktor laughed.

“Yeah, well my mom was obsessed with that ‘Ancient Aliens’ show when I was a kid and even at, like, nine years old I knew it was bullshit. Okay, Pretty Boy, your turn. What are your conspiracy theories?”

Viktor hummed, thinking to himself for a moment before speaking, “You know those people who say the Earth is flat?”

“Viktor, no,” You gaped, “There is no way you believe that.”

“No, hush, let me explain,” He laughed, waving you off, “I think people who say they think the Earth is flat are completely lying.”

“What?”

“I mean, I think they know that it is completely untrue,” He explained, hands gesturing in front of him, “but they like the attention they get from saying they believe the Earth is flat.”

You laughed, “Oh my god, like toddlers. Negative attention is better than no attention.”

“Exactly!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at you, “That’s exactly it.”

You covered your mouth, lowering your head and laughing into your palm to stifle the sound. Well aware of the looks thrown your way by the regular inhabitants of the diner. As your giggles died out, Nancy returned with your plates. 

“Here we are, two Florentine benedicts,” She set the food down on the table, “Plates are a lil’ warm, be careful.”

“Thank you,” You said, settling down, Viktor repeating the words as he slid a roll of utensils towards you.

“Of course, is there anything else I can get for you?” She asked, hands on her hips as she oversaw the table.

“I think we are okay,” Viktor told her, looking over to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” You agreed, “Thank you.”

“Perfect, if you need anything, just let me know,” She told you before heading away from the table. 

Viktor held his fork out to you, “Cheers, darling, to baseless theories.”

You laughed, and clinked the tines of your fork against his, “To baseless theories.”

-----

When Nancy brought the check, she brought two. Setting the little slips of paper down in front of each of you before picking up your empty plates.

“I assumed separate checks were fine,” She said, glancing down at you briefly before sliding her gaze to Viktor, “And, I’m sorry, I just have to ask! Where is your accent from?”

“New Mexico,” Viktor said flatly, a tight smile on his lips, “And the checks will be together, actually.”

He reached over and grabbed yours from in front of you, folding them together and handing them back to her.

“Oh, uh okay,” She nodded, taking the checks back from him, trying and failing to hide her look of disappointment. You rolled your eyes as she walked away.

“I will admit,” Viktor said, “Normally I believe people read too much into others intentions.”

“Of course you do,” You scoffed at him.

“But, I do believe that that girl was being quite forward, no?” Viktor glanced over to where the waitress was making up a new receipt behind the counter.

“Oh, you think?” You laughed sarcastically at him, “Viktor, that girl wanted you so bad, she would have let you fuck her on this table if you wanted to.” 

“Always so graphic,” He grimaced, “Does it bother you?”

“No, I wouldn’t say it if it did,” You snorted a laugh.

“No, not that,” He waved you off, “That she wants me. Does somebody else being interested in me bother you?”

You thought for a moment, about whether this was something you could convincingly about. Decided it wasn’t, you told him, “Yes, I hate it.”

“Why?” He tilted his head, waiting for another honest answer.

“Because, I… you’re very want-able,” You stumbled over your words, letting an awkward laugh slip out, “You could be with whoever you want in a second. The fact that you have so many options just kinda…makes me nervous.”

Before he could respond Nancy swooped by the table, dropping off the combined check and muttering a quick, “Sorry about the confusion.”

You reached for the check and Viktor scoffed, snatching it up before you could. 

“Absolutely not,” He said, keeping the check away from you as he pulled out his wallet.

“Vik, you drove, let me get it,” You told him, trying to pull out your own card.

“No way,” He shook his head, pulling cash out, “I just insisted that we were together, I’m not letting you pay.”

“That’s misogyny,” You pouted.

“Brand me a misogynist then. You aren’t paying.” He laughed, leaving the cash on the table as he slid out of the booth, steadying himself on his cane with one hand and extending the other out to you, “Maybe I’ll let you get it next time…maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, but took his hand as you slid out of the booth anyways. You let him lead you through the diner. You let him hold the door open for you. You even let him open the car door and shut it behind you when you got in. Not because you needed or really wanted him to do these things, but because you could tell he enjoyed it. It was sweet.

“You’re wrong, you know?” He told you as the car hummed to life.

“No, I’m never wrong,” You shook your head, “What am I wrong about?”

“You say I can have whoever I want,” He repeated your statement from earlier, turning in his seat to look at you, “But that’s clearly not true.”

“Hmph, and why do you say that?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Because, the only person that I want is you. And clearly I can’t seem to get you, so…” He shrugged, the slightest pout on his lips.

Like usual, he managed to floor you with his words. Stopping all coherent thoughts in your head as he looked at you with those perfect amber eyes. You let out a shaky breath, reaching up to touch his face. He leaned into your hand, rubbing his cheek against your palm and letting his eyes fall shut for a moment.

“Viktor…” You breathed, thumb brushing across the pout on his lips.

He said your name softly, opening his eyes and holding your gaze, “Please let me have you. You're always just out of reach. Please, I just want you.”

“Vik...,” You muttered, running your hand over the side of his head, fingers combing through his soft hair, “Listen, I just… I can’t yet.”

You could have cried at the look he gave you. A harsh line formed between his eyebrows as they pulled together. His eyes were soft, half closed with blown pupils as he leaned into your touch.

“Today’s the 11th?” You asked, hand on the back of his neck, tugging gently at the short strands there, “and our last class is on December 15th, yeah?”

He nodded as you thought about the numbers.

“That’s 65 days.” You told him, squeezing the back of his neck, “In 65 days, if you still want me, I’m yours.”

“65 days…” He repeated, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead against yours, “65 days and you're mine.”

-----

It wasn’t terribly late when you made it back to town, but the winter sun had long set. Viktor insisted on holding your hand for as long as he could, only giving up the contact when switching gears became more frequent. The animal part of your brain found the way he drove incredibly attractive. He was relaxed and confident, never panicked as he checked his mirrors and smoothly switched lanes. You resisted the urge to reach out to him at stoplights. The red glow sinking into the lines and curves of his face, lighting the front of his hair. You stared shamelessly, memorizing the way he looked, and he pretended not to notice.

“You can totally tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to answer this,” You said as he slowed to a stop at one of these lights, “But why do you drive a manual? Isn’t it difficult with your leg?”

“It’s not easy, but it’s how I learned to drive,” He glanced over at you, and shrugged, “I either had to learn to drive a manual or not at all.”

“Hm, that’s fair,” You nodded, it made sense to have to learn to drive in what was available, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s incredibly hot that you drive a manual, but did you not consider getting an automatic when you moved here?”

He rolled his eyes at the compliment, a tilted smile on his lips, “No. It’s probably childish, but I drive this way out of spite. I’m used to the way it feels, and I just have to be okay with the fact that on bad days I’m not able to drive.”

“You’ve never struck me as someone resistant to accommodations,” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not,” He shook his head, “Only for this, I guess. I understand that I have limitations, but I…I don’t know. I want to drive this way, so I do. It’s as simple as that.”

You hummed and nodded, pulling your knee up to your chest and resting your cheek on it, “I get that, like not personally, but I understand your stubbornness.” You laughed softly.

“I’m glad you do, because most people don’t,” He scoffed, “Jayce practically begged me to get a different car. I had to explain to him that not only am I very capable of driving this way,” He gave you a sideways glance, “But women tend to find it sexy.”

“Ah, so you do know you’re hot,” You teased back, grinning against your knee.

“I think you give me more credit than is due in that department,” He scoffed, “But when you’re staring at me all the time, it tends to go to a man's head.”

“It’s not all the time,” You defended weakly, chewing on your lip. 

“Uh-huh,” He hummed, smirking over at you as the light turned green, “Sure.” 

You swatted at his leg gently. He caught your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and holding the back of your hand to his chest. You could feel his pulse on either side of your hand, steady and just a little fast.

“Do you want to take your truck home tonight?” He asked, squeezing your hand before releasing you, “Or I can bring you back to campus and I can pick you up tomorrow to get it?”

You thought for a moment. If you went to his house to get your truck right now, he’d ask if you’d like to come in and say hello to Rio. You’d say yes. You’d sit in his bed. You’d let him put his head in your lap. You’d talk to him for hours. You’d have to force yourself to leave at some early hour of the morning. You’d drive home with an ache in your chest. 

“I can get my truck tomorrow,” You offered, thinking quickly of a way to see him soon without destroying yourself, “If you wanna drive it over we can finish up the lab notes for Monday? If you feel like it.”

“That works,” He nodded, beginning to take turns towards campus, “Should we tell Ekko and Jinx?”

“I think they have plans tomorrow,” You told him a half-lie, they had plans tomorrow night, but you’d really rather work on the notes with just Viktor, “But we can handle it, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” He agreed, then laughed, “We’ll make them do it next weekend.”

“I like the way you think,” You snorted, sitting up in your seat as he pulled into the parking lot of the dorm, “Come over at eleven?”

“Sure,” He nodded, putting the car into park at the curb, “If you end up wanting to get your truck tonight, just let me know, it’s not that late.”

“Thanks.” You opened the door, hesitating and turning towards him, “I’m glad we went out today, it was…nice.”

“Me too,” He gave a soft smile.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned into him and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hopped out of his car, leaving behind his coat and darting away before you could register his reaction. He didn’t pull away from the curb until you were fully inside the building and waving a goodbye through the glass wall.

You let the warmth of the gesture fill you as you climbed the stairs to your dorm. The promise of 65 days you had given him resonated in your ears. Maybe it was too lofty of a promise. Maybe it was one that would never come to fruition. Maybe whatever you felt for each other would fizzle out and die before that last day of class. You weren't sure what would be a harder end to this.

You were wrapped up in idle thoughts of him, you didn’t take notice of the soft giggles coming from inside the room, or the fact that the little sign on your door had been flipped to ‘do not disturb’. It wasn’t until you pushed the door open that you did finally notice what was happening. A few facts hit you at once. Lest was back. Lest was topless. Lest was straddling someone. Lest was straddling a girl. The girl Lest was straddling was Sky Young.

“Oh fuck,” You yelped, stumbling backwards out of the room and slamming the door closed, “I’m sorry!”

You could hear Lest curse on the other side of the door and the sound of them shuffling around as they pulled clothes back on. Lest is straight. Lest was straight. Sky you had never been sure of, but yesterday she had very much been into Viktor. As you stared in shock at your overly decorated door, puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

They had been spending a lot of time together, you had figured it was because of their shared class. Apparently that wasn’t the only reason. Lest’s anger at you over hurting Sky’s feelings made more sense now. So did Sky’s easily offered forgiveness this morning…after Lest had spent the night with her. 

You began to realize how little attention you had paid to any of your friends this semester. You were paying so much attention to a man that you didn’t even notice your best friend was switching sexualities. You wondered what else you had been missing. Were Mel and Jayce married? Did Jinx finally adopt Isha? Did Vi kill Maddie? As your thoughts began to spiral, the door in front of you was yanked open. Lest, now fully clothed, grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you into the room.

“Sit.” She told you, nudging you towards your desk chair. 

You did as she asked, the fact that the only light in the room was a single desk lamp made you feel like you were being interrogated. Sky, also dressed, was sitting on the edge of Lest’s bed, arms crossed tightly over her chest and cheeks redder than you had ever seen.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything, really,” You said to Sky, hoping to ease whatever embarrassment she was holding

“What happened to knocking?” Lest asked, pulling your attention to her, hands on her hips. You tried not to stare at the mouth shaped bruises on her neck.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention,” You stumbled over your words, “I didn’t think- I’m sorry.”

Lest sighed, rubbing out a line between her eyebrows, “It’s fine. Just… don’t tell anyone.”

You scoffed a laugh, “Who am I gonna tell? You two?”

“And Mel.” She pointed out, “Who would tell Jayce, who would tell Cait, who would tell Vi, who would-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” You held your hands up in defense, “I’m not gonna tell anyone, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Well, you’ve been a dick lately, so…” Lest shrugged, and then relaxed when you flinched, “I’m sorry. I just.. We’re not ready to share this yet.”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” You assured her, “Not gonna say anything, I promise.”

“I’m gonna head out,” Sky said, standing up awkwardly and pulling her bag onto her shoulder, she hesitated between the door and Lest.

“I’ll walk you back,” Lest offered, reaching for her own coat.

“No, it’s fine,” Sky insisted, “I’m supposed to meet Stebb at the library in a bit anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” Lest nodded, squeezing Sky’s hand before she left. When the door shut behind her, Lest collapsed onto her bed with a groan.

“Is this why you were so angry at me last night?” You asked, not moving from your chair.

“No…kinda?” Lest tugged at the ends of her hair, “I don’t know, man, this is new… like new new.”

“Like, last night new?” You wanted to know everything, but you weren't sure how much she was willing to give you right now.

“More like an hour ago,” Lest scoffed, shaking her head as she stared up at the ceiling, “Honestly, I think I’ve liked her for a while now, I just didn’t fully get it. Then last night, I…you made her cry, dude. I love you so much, but I could have killed you last night.”

“I know, I’m sorry…I agree, I’ve been a dick,” You chewed on your cheek, then laughed awkwardly, “I talked to her this morning, it makes sense why she was so forgiving.”

“You’re lucky she is,” Lest told you, finally looking over, “I stayed with her last night, that’s when it clicked. I wanted to kiss her so bad, but she was drunk and sad. I left before she woke up. Part of me hoped she wouldn’t remember it.”

“But she did?” You concluded.

“Yep, every sappy fucking word.” She rolled over, groaning into her bed, “It was so embarrassing.”

“Why?” You laughed softly, nervously testing the waters, “I mean, clearly she likes you, too.”

“Yeah, but when I told her she had just been crying over a guy,” Lest said, voice half muffled, “I should have waited until she wasn’t so upset, that would have been the polite thing to do.”

“Things happen,” You offered, “Trust me, I know.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” Lest said, on the verge of being choked up, “All I wanted to do was talk to you, but I was supposed to be mad at you…”

“Are you still mad at me?” You asked, eyeing her carefully.

“No, I’m never mad at you, not really,” She sighed, rolling back over and pouting at you, “Even when I should be.”

“Good, I’m glad,” You nodded, standing up and edging towards her bed, “I’m sorry I made you want to be mad at me.”

She held her hand out in the offer you had been waiting for. You crossed the last of the space between you and crawled into her bed. She wiggled into your arms, resting her head on your shoulder and holding onto you. She smelled like Sky’s perfume.

She said your name softly, “I’m scared.”

“Why?” You smoothed a hand over her hair.

“Because I don’t know how to do this,” She told you, toying with the hem of your sleeve, “I’ve always been the girlfriend, I don’t know how to be in a relationship with another girl.”

“My love, you’d still be a girlfriend,” You laughed softly, “You don’t need to act any different because you’re with a girl instead.”

“I guess…I just don’t know how to do this.” She pressed her face into your shirt, “My parents are going to have something to say. Everyone is going to have something to say.”

“I’m saying this out of love, but your parents were like 75% fine with you transitioning,” You teased gently, tugging at a strand of her hair, “Shouldn’t you liking girls be alot easier for them to grasp?”

She scoffed, “You’d think.” 

“Well, luckily, your parents are incredibly far away,” You assured her, “You don’t need to call them up right this minute and come out to them. You have all the time in the world, Lest. You don’t have to tell anybody until you’re ready. Other than me, obviously, sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I wanted to tell you anyway,” Lest craned her neck to look up at you, “The only other gay girls I’m close with are Cait and Vi and they’re obnoxious.”

You laughed, swatting on on the shoulder, “Don’t be mean.”

“I love them, but it’s true,” She insisted with wide eyes.

“I know, I know,” You sighed thinking about Dysfunctional Lesbian 1 and 2.

Lest gasped, stilling in your arms, “You know what this means, right?”

“What?” You raised an eyebrow at her, tilting your chin to look at her face.

“Our friend group is very close to being made up entirely of couples,” She gaped at you, mock horror in her eyes.

“Oh god, you’re right.” You cringed, “We’re really the worst, aren’t we.”

“Entirely insufferable,” She agreed seriously before the both of you dissolved into giggles, closer to each other than you had been in months.

[heyitsnaardi]

College AU dumps!