#i would like to explore their relationship :p

[paingoes]

yes!!! i was thinking of this AU when i said that because we’ve actually talked about this exact scenario before lol. khiyophor never tries to escape! so the only way galatea would ever get them in custody is by force :o)

even in this context i think its still possible that galatea just decides its easier to knife khiyophor than it is to save them. HOWEVER i think the specific attempt to save paris’s life (☹️) + khiyophor being visibly young + khiyophor’s powers being viewed as less destructive than delta all contribute to them appearing to be more sympathetic. so in this scenario they are captured so that empire cant use them as a weapon and additionally as a kind of bargaining chip. again its a lot more strategic this time around and levon is actually looped into it for once…

in some ways it very much is a continuation of khiyophor’s dehumanization to hold them hostage like that. levon and galatea are generally very sympathetic to khiyophor and really try to treat them with kindness but its a bit of a tricky situation and i think khiyophor is bored out of their fucking mind in the meantime

paris is still prince in this timeline 👍 he did not drunkenly lose his psychic superweapon in one night he just failed to secure them against repeated attacks from the resistance. he loses street cred for that but he is not deposed and this time he KNOWS galatea has his weapon and he is pissedddddd. i think paris in the khiyophor timeline is really interesting honestly because hes a bit more in control of himself and a bit gentler. their relationship is p interesting actually!

but yeah in this timeline paris has levon on speed dial and is blowing up his line constantly asking to speak to khiyophor

sorry i just think this is an extremely endearing paris moment. hes worried about them !

i have not really answered what delta specifically would be doing in the event he was held hostage but this is the most ive explored the concept using khiyophor!! khiyophor of course has their own quirks which make the situation a bit different (bit people and cut off their fingers while being kidnapped 😊) but this is kind of an outline of how the universe goes from there.

I don't remember if this was answered before, feel free to ignore it it was.

What would have happened if Delta had never gotten that laptop?

And what if, in that setting, Galatea had found out about him? Had found him? Had gotten him?

this is a good question!

he basically never develops a conscience in this one, having no view outside of his own callous surroundings or any real perspective on the harm he’s doing. he’s still just like ughhhhh i hate this fucking jobbbbbbbb -_- *blows up a city* *blows up a city* *blo

he responds a lot more negatively to paris’s abuse when he can’t justify it as something he deserves. and delta doesnt have the support system or distraction that helps him to cope with it :(

unfortunately despite that i think their relationship is a bit more co-dependent because delta isnt pulling away and probably seeks paris’s approval and kindness more because he’s not getting validation or purpose anywhere else. hes more brainwashed for sure.

in the instance where galatea finds out Δ-107 is alive, the goal is to kill it. i know thats harsh. but it is SO dangerous to keep a superweapon who has shown nothing but total loyalty to empire and who is totally fearful and distrustful of rebels (as delta would be in this situation!). additionally they do not owe him anything the way they do in canon, so there’s no kindness to repay. the plan is to kill him quickly and painlessly. sorry delta !

but the possibility of galatea taking delta as unwilling captive is REALLY fun. this post is getting long and im tired but i could say more on this later. literally this meme lol

[lilpuffyart]

Ngl thinking of touching beastars sometime soon after I'm done with some cotl refs I've been working on

[becauseplot]

Penciled Lines

(Cross-posted on ao3, if you prefer to read it there. Reblogs still appreciated!)

Missa wakes up, and he thinks he might be doomed. This doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

Missa is awake early—by his own metric, anyway. His nocturnal nature causes “early” for him to mean “early night” and not “early morning.” Regardless, “early” means that Philza is not asleep yet, still going through his nightly rituals. “Early” means that Philza is sitting up in (his? their?) the bed, pillows propped up behind him, notebook in his lap, sketching away.

And when Missa wakes up to the soft scritch-scratch of a charcoal pencil on textured paper, his forehead just so happens to be brushing Philza’s hip.

Missa can hardly breathe.

Oh no.

He knows that if he gives any indication that he is awake, Philza will stop sketching, close his notebook, shift himself over until he is politely seated on his side of the bed, and greet Missa with a friendly smile. Philza has done it before, when Missa wakes up early. That’s how Missa knows he’ll do it again.

Thus, Missa can hardly breathe—his breaths have to be the slow in-out of sleep. He can’t so much as twitch, either. He has to keep quiet and play dead or else he’ll be found out. Seen. Caught living the lie.

“Husband,” Philza calls him. They’re not married. They share a bed. They’re hardly ever in it at the same time. They have a son and a daughter. Neither of them know Missa very well. Philza has had an extra set of armor and a skull on his backpack for months, waiting for Missa. Missa doesn’t even know Philza’s last name.

Philza is a good man and a good friend—and Missa doesn't deserve him. Still, he takes what he can get. Curls around it. Hoarding every innocent kindness Philza extends like a starving creature: the generosity of a backpack fully stocked with equipment; the trust Philza places in Missa to watch the kids when he’s asleep; and now, the courtesy of not moving his hip from Missa’s forehead to ensure his “sleeping” isn’t disturbed. Missa clutches all of these little offerings in his greedy claws and hugs them into his chest, even as the guilt eats away at him.

Because, regardless of the lack of mutual feeling, he loves Philza. He loves him so, so much, and that is why he is doomed. He can’t afford to lose what little he has. He can’t cross that line. 

So Missa lies beside Philza, forehead pressed against Philza’s hip, pretending to sleep so he can imagine that they’re not just lying in bed together, but lying in bed, together; and later, when Missa truly wakes, he will sit on his side of the bed and look at Philza’s face soft with sleep and think about how lucky he is that he still has a side-of-the-bed to begin with.

Missa doesn’t mean to drift off. When it starts to happen, he’s hopelessly torn between shaking himself awake and thus giving himself away, or remaining how he is, silently fending off the inevitable. In the end, Missa clings to that scritch-scratch sound of Philza’s pencil on the paper for as long as he can before the fog at last pulls him under. 

Eventually, he dreams. In fact, he dreams of the calloused fingers he dreams of every night, hands like his own, an artist of Death, cradling and shading the contours of his face—a softness dashing charcoal across his jaw, and over his cheekbones, and perhaps on his lips, too, if he’s lucky. Defining every edge of him.

~*~

A deep sigh. Phil stops sketching as Missa shifts in his sleep. He tilts his head up so that the tip of his nose is now just nearly brushing against Phil’s hip. The motion disturbs the wild splay of his dark hair, revealing more of his face: eyelashes, cheeks, warmth. Tender blush of something Stygian and otherworldly. New.

Phil’s lips tilt upwards. He turns to a fresh page, and he starts again.

[winds-of-zephyr416]

Okay, I have to inquire about "exsitential. eldritch. they're still gay tho" from that WIP game, because! Existenial, eldritch, and gay happen to be my favourite categories for anything basically :D

Oooohh, this is one of my favorites!!

"exsitential. eldritch. they're still gay tho" is a pre-Arda meet-cute where Mairon follows Melkor around on one of his many wanderings into the outer Void. I wanted to try writing something with very little description and a lot of dialogue, so I figured a setting where they don't necessarily have bodies would be a good place to start :P

This fic is fun because I have to figure out how to refer to space without naming stars, and a progression of events without too much time. It's a challenge, but I kind of like it. It makes everything feel very open and primordial, very much so the vibe it's supposed to be! It isn't as space-oriented as the other WIP right next to it, but it's a vast setting all the same.

Melkor is a bit of a loner type here, but he flirts in his own way <33 (He's the first line)

(Mairon calls Melkor “Majesty” in this. It’s very gay and cute)

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Lord of the Empty Isles

sci-fi/fantasy

set on a supposedly utopian planet recovering from a climate crisis, where bonds between people are able to be seen and manipulated (by some people)

follows a young man whose brother was cursed and killed by an infamous outlaw 5 years ago, and he’s finally able to curse him back - but it rebounds, as he’s somehow fatebound to the outlaw

to find a cure and save them both they have to team up, and he quickly finds out that the resources the outlaw is stealing go to the thousands of people neglected on prison planets, and he has to go against what he thought was right to help them

no romance, aroace MC, focus on platonic relationships

arc from netgalley, out june 6

[avengerphobic]

Do you think Namora cares about Amadeus?

yes i think that she has generally warm feelings for him, but i also think that she makes herself be more distant than she would be naturally because of her guilt about namorita. i don't have a whole lot of evidence to back this up except in atlantis attacks they have a nice little encounter and she doesn't abandon him to the amazons (though that's mostly herc) i would love for their relationship to be explored especially since i imagine amadeus would resent being close with another woman because of his mother (i imagine that he's more of a mama's boy especially with how he interacts with food). so it would be like yes they love each other they see each other as some kind of family but they cant admit that its mother son because if they do they'd betray their own real family that's died

[sunchases]

on july 17, harper's most special person was born. taesoo might not find it to be a big deal, but harper definitely does. a look at bin taesoo's birthday weekend. featuring @wcvensouls. happy birthday, taesoo! ♡

[cupiare]

started off really enjoying a fairly honorable defeat but the drama is getting a bit dreadful i won’t lie

[girlygguk]

NEEDY | JJK (Part 2)

summary hiding his feelings when you didn’t even know his name was hard. hiding his neediness and obsession when you finally did know his name and you were his fucking girlfriend? impossible. well, then it's a good thing you like him needy.

pairing nerd!jk x cheerleader!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni

genre established relationship; smut, fluff, angst

word count 11.5k

content jk 18 | oc 18 (🤓☝️ "actually, based on my calculations of the timeli—" idc! it's my fic, they're 18!), a blast to the past; mentions of oc's ex bf & baddie bff, lots of reminiscing, their first time (actually) meeting, clichés, simpy ass couple my god, heavy pet name use, dramatic, a moment of insecurity from jk but oc clears that up quick n snappy, kissing, dry humping, whiny subby koo, lowkey soft dommy oc, oral (both rec), quick orgasms bc they're inexperienced cuties, so soft, protected p in v penetration (brief), virginity loss, young love, they are both the sweetest angels i would actually d!e for them

note!!! the fic ends quite abruptly before they fully get into the Penetration, and if you'd like to know why, pls read the extended author's note here. but there's still a bunchh of smut and fluff tho 🤞 this rlly is just 2 cute lil virgins exploring love ! ENJOOOY 🤍 siri play i like me better by lauv

needy pt 1 [🐇] main masterlist [📣] banner credit

SOME TIME AGO

You and Jungkook have been official for a month now, and in that time, you’ve done your fair share of… stuff.

Every kiss, every touch, every moment between you has felt brand new, like you’re learning each other piece by piece. You were both each other’s firsts in so many things.

You’d had a boyfriend before — Christopher Bahng, the textbook-perfect pairing of the head cheerleader and football captain. Chris was a good guy, still a part of your friend group, always easy to be around. Your parents liked him, you shared classes, friends, group study sessions. It was convenient. Comfortable.

But it was never… well, it was never like this.

With Chris, something had always been missing, though neither of you could quite put it into words. A few months in, you both realized you were better as friends. You’d fooled around a little — awkward, aimless fumbling — but you’d never gone all the way. And, god, were you grateful for that.

Because you knew exactly who you wanted to go all the way with.

And right now, you were sitting on top of him, your hands tangled in his soft hair, lips locked as you swallowed every shaky breath he let out.

“Mmph—” Jungkook moaned into your mouth, needy and breathless. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft skin above your hips like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. The slight tremble in his touch gave him away. He was trying to keep himself together, but his body was practically vibrating beneath you.

“You okay, bunny?” you murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to look at him. His lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed pink, his big, glassy eyes wide with that expression he always wore around you — like he still couldn’t believe this was real, like he was still processing that you were his.

“Y-yeah, lovie,” he breathed, his voice shaking as he nodded a little too quickly. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths, and you couldn’t help the sly smile that tugged at your lips as you traced a finger along his jaw.

“You sure?” you teased softly, your lips brushing his as your hips shifted ever so slightly against his lap. The reaction was instant — a broken whine spilled from his mouth as his cock pressed harder against you, straining beneath the tight denim of his jeans.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched on your hips, his grip tightening as you reached up and gently slipped his glasses off. He was sort-sighted, so it was okay, and he nodded when you paused to make sure he was fine. He blinked a few times as you leaned over, setting the frames carefully on your bedside table. The movement brought your chest close to his face, the neckline of your crop top dipping low, and you weren’t even surprised when he instinctively pressed his face into the curve of your cleavage.

The noise he made — somewhere between a groan and a whimper — shot straight to your core. His hands slid up your waist as his lips brushed against your skin, and for a moment, all you could hear was his ragged breathing.

“Bunny,” you cooed, threading your fingers into his hair, tilting your chest just enough to give him better access. His only response was a needy whine as his hips bucked up beneath you, seeking any sort of relief from the unbearable ache between his legs.

His mouth latched onto the curve of your side boob, wet tongue tongue dragging against the delicate skin. Your breath hitched as he sucked lightly, then harder, his groan throaty and desperate as his hands fiddled with the hem of your top.

“Baby,” you gasped, your voice catching as his tongue darted across your skin. “Pull them out. Suck on them properly.”

It was like something snapped inside him. Jungkook let out a broken whimper, his hands moving to tug the fabric of your crop top down, and he froze for a second, just staring as your breasts spilled free.

“Fffuck, baby,” he breathed, his voice shaky and full of awe, his lips parting as if he didn’t know where to start. “Thank you. Thank you, baby. T-thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” you murmured, your fingers curling into his hair, pulling him closer. “They’re yours.”

The sound he made was so intense — a guttural, deep groan as he buried his face in your chest, his mouth latching onto your nipple with zero hesitation. His mouth was desperate, tongue wet and wide as he lapped over the entire areola, sucking, pulling, groaning like he was savoring the sweetest candy in South Korea. And in a way, he was.

Your back arched instinctively, your fingers tightening in his hair as he sucked harder, his lips pulling and nibbling at the soft flesh. His hips jerked beneath you, his cock pressing hard against your core, and you rolled your hips down in response, the friction making both of you gasp.

“Yess, my love,” you whispered breathlessly, your hand cradling his head as he worshiped you. “So good, bunny. Always so good.”

His whine was muffled, his mouth too full of you to respond properly. But his hands said enough — the way they gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself deeper into your chest, desperate to show you just how much he wanted you. How much he needed you.

The praise shattered him. His hips jerked up, grinding into you with an urgency that was raw, unfiltered. Each soft thrust, each shaky breath, was a testament to how much he needed you. And god, did he. It was like your words were oxygen, filling his lungs, fueling him. Without them, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. Was that pathetic? Sure. Did he care? Not in the slightest.

His tongue flicked over your nipple, one hand cupping the soft swell of your boob, kneading it tenderly while his mouth moved with desperateness. The other hand trailed to your other bud, his long fingers rolling it between them, sparking a fresh wave of heat that spread straight to your cunt.

He looked fucking wrecked — eyes squeezed shut, lips swollen from his frantic licks, his face flushed as he moaned against you. Every sound you made, every twitch of your body, had him falling deeper under your spell. It was overwhelming — he was overwhelmed. All he knew, all he felt, all that existed for him at that moment was you.

The steady rhythm of your hips grinding down onto his lap synced with his movements, the friction pulling soft, breathy pants from his lips. His cock twitched beneath the fabric of his pants, hard and aching, the damp spot already forming there a sign of how close he was to losing it.

“Kookie,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing as your warm breath fanned against his cheek. “Baby, do you want to… do more?”

His body jerked, a visible tremor rippling through him as your words registered. His big, doe eyes snapped open, locking with yours, wide and full of need. His lips stayed latched around your nipple, trembling as a muffled whine escaped him. When you ground down again, harder this time, his nod was frantic, shaky, his mouth refusing to let go of your boob even as his body begged for relief.

“Okay, my baby,” you whispered, your voice soothing as you gently pulled your breast from his mouth. He whimpered at the loss, a pitiful sound that tugged at your heart, his lips chasing after you like he needed it back. But his frown melted away the moment you pressed your mouth to his, your tongue sweeping past his lips.

He crumbled under your kiss. The second your tongue found his, his entire body softened, tension flowing out of him as if you’d cast another spell. Your hands slid up to cradle his neck, your thumbs brushing over his flushed skin as his own hands trailed lower. They slipped beneath the hem of your cheer skirt, his fingers gripping the curve of your ass, squeezing with a soft but possessive need that sent a satisfied thrill straight through you.

Jungkook groaned when you moaned into his mouth, his lips parting further to let you take control, his brows furrowing in pleasure. His hips bucked instinctively, pressing his cock harder into you, and you ground down to meet him, your movements growing slicker with every roll of your hips.

His gasp was sharp when you sucked his tongue fully into your mouth, your head bobbing slightly as you pulled him deeper, savoring his taste. You could still pick up the faint sweetness of the strawberry poptarts you’d shared earlier, and the thought made you smile against his lips.

The sound he made was ruined, somewhere between a moan and a sob, his body jerking beneath you as his cock twitched. He tried to pull back, overwhelmed by the way your hips pressed down harder, but you didn’t let him.

“Ahh…-aybee,” he whined, his voice cracking as you suckled harder on his tongue. His hands gripped your ass tighter, desperate to steady himself, but it was useless. You were relentless. You were everywhere. His cock throbbed under you, his hips snapping up as he let out a choked, muffled moan.

“Mm-abyy—” His attempt at your name was cut off when your fingers trailed down, brushing over his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. That was it.

His head fell back, his eyes rolling shut as his entire body seized. “Ahh, c-cum!” His cry was broken, raw, his hips jerking up as his cock pulsed. He came hard, shaking beneath you as his release soaked through his jeans, his breath hitching with every tremor that wracked his body.

But you didn’t stop. You kept rolling your hips over him, slow and deliberate, your movements dragging every last ounce of pleasure from his overstimulated frame. His face was flushed, his lips parted as gasps and soft whimpers spilled from him, his hands gripping you like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Good jobbb, bunny,” you murmured sweetly, your lips brushing against his temple as you ground down one final time, a little playful wiggle of your hips drawing another broken moan from him.

His eyes were glazed, his breath shaky as he clung to you, trembling in your arms. You smiled, brushing his damp hair from his forehead as his body melted into yours. He looked utterly wrecked, but the dazed, drunk smile tugging at his lips told you he was more than okay.

Your continuous whispers of praise made his body shudder, a tiny, broken breath escaping his lips as you kept wiggling against him, teasing him through the aftershocks of his release. He looked up at you, wide-eyed and flushed, his chest heaving beneath your hands.

“Lovie, I-I’m so sorr—”

“Why are you apologizing, bunny?” you frowned, cutting him off softly. Your hands were already in motion, sweeping back the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. You hated when he apologized for something as beautiful as coming quickly. The way he lost control for you, because of you, was intoxicating. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jungkookie. You were so good for me.”

Your words hit him like a lifeline. He melted into your touch, his lips parting as a soft keening sound escaped him. His eyes fluttered shut as your fingers carded gently through his hair, his breath coming in slow, shaky waves.

“I love you so much it fucking hurts, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice raw.

“Hey,” you whispered, your tone softening as your hands stilled. His words were raw, almost jagged, and you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips.

It was gentle, unhurried, and your lips curved into a small smile as he breathed all his little sounds into you. When you pulled back, your voice was warm. “I know exactly how you feel, baby,” you murmured, your tone laced with affection. You pressed another kiss to his pouty lips, your movements so soft that his eyes stayed closed. “I’ve been in love with you the longest, after all, hm.”

His eyes snapped open at that, wide and glistening, his lips parting in protest. The pout he gave you was undeniably adorable. “No, you have not,” he mumbled, his tone brattily defiant. His eyes flicked downward, catching sight of your bare chest, and his cheek rested instinctively against your softness.

You hummed as he settled into you, his head pillowed against your boobs. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you a little higher up his torso, and he let out a contented sigh, his eyes slipping shut again.

Your hands drifted into his hair, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp. The soft noises he made in response drew a fond smile from you, but you pouted slightly as you thought back on his words. “What do you mean?” you teased gently. “I followed you everywhere, bunny. Even if I didn’t know it was love back then—”

“I knew,” he interrupted, his voice muffled against your skin but certain. The warmth of his breath fanned over your chest, sending a shiver through you. His arms tightened their hold, pulling you impossibly closer. “Always knew, lovie.”

“Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants,” you said with a soft laugh, narrowing your eyes at the cheeky smile spreading across his face. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your skin, his quiet acceptance of the nickname only making you smile more. “And how are you so sure that when you realized you were in love with me, I wasn’t already—”

“Because you didn’t even know my name yet,” he cut you off again, lifting his head to meet your gaze. There was a shy confidence in his big, round eyes, and his statement left you momentarily speechless.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out, your expression shifting to one of surprise. He smiled cutely, the tips of his ears flushing pink as if embarrassed by his own boldness. Before you could process it fully, he leaned forward, pressing two quick kisses to your lips, leaving you even more stunned.

Without giving you the chance to respond, Jungkook shifted back against the headboard, his hands finding the hem of your cheer shirt. He leaned in, planting soft kisses on your nipples, his lips warm and reverent before he carefully tugged the fabric back over your chest. His touch drifted lower, settling on your thighs, his big palms warm against your skin.

You’d asked earlier if he wanted to do more, and god, he didn’t know how to put into words all the things he wanted to fucking do. He wanted to lie flat on his back, to feel you slide up, your soft thighs clamped around his head while you—

“Bunny, do you really mean that?” you whispered, your tone curious and a little hesitant, breaking him out of his thoughts. His wide eyes snapped up to yours, startled by the furrow in your brow.

“Wh-yes, baby,” he stammered, panic flickering in his chest. “I—I, of course, I mean it. I’d never lie to you… Should I not have said that?” His voice grew quieter, worry creeping in. He thought he could tell you anything; you said he could tell you anyth—

“No, baby,” you reassured him quickly, the warmth in your tone soothing his nerves. “You can tell me anything. I just didn’t know.” You slid off his lap to settle beside him, curling against his chest. “That’s so interesting, bun. Can you tell me more about it?”

His arm looped around you instinctively, the other hand brushing over your thigh. When you shifted, draping a leg over his waist, he stroked your skin softly, his fingers tracing absent patterns.

“Of course, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “But… can I—wanna make you come first, baby.” His gaze flickered to your thigh, a shy pout forming as he spoke.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Such a sweetie,” you murmured. “Tell me first, please? I’m curious.”

Jungkook licked his lips, nodding before tilting his head down to kiss you gently. “Okay, lovie,” he whispered against your lips, giving you one more soft peck before leaning back, letting you snuggle into him again. “The first time I saw you was… in the hall, freshman year.”

‹ ‹ ‹

Jungkook hit send on a text to Taehyung, confirming their after-school plans for Rocket League, and slipped his phone into his pocket. He was methodically stacking his textbooks from his locker, his mind already wandering to potential team strategies, when a voice cut through the low hum of hallway chatter.

“No thanks, Gyu's parties aren’t really my thing,” you hummed lightly as you closed your locker, your arms full of heavy textbooks. “You go have fun, though, babe. We’ll see each other tomorrow at practice.”

Jungkook’s hand froze on his books, his fingers stilling as he looked up, just in time to see the most beautiful girl he's ever seen in his life glance at who he's assuming is her boyfriend with an easy smile.

He watched quietly as the guy leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, a quick, practiced gesture. Your boyfriend blew you a cheesy kiss as he walked backward, heading down the hall with his teammates.

Jungkook’s breath hitched as you stood there alone, your cheerleading uniform hugging your figure in a way that made his heart pound painfully in his chest. You were perfect — practically glowing, like you’d just walked straight out of a nerd's wet fucking dream. His wet fucking dream.

His throat felt dry. He turned back to his locker, trying to ground himself in the action of grabbing his things, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw you adjust the weight of your textbooks in your arms. The heavy stack wobbled, and before you could react, one slipped free, tumbling to the floor and taking the rest with it.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping into a crouch to gather them, but Jungkook was already moving. His textbooks clattered back into his locker as he shut the door in a rush, crossing the space to reach you.

“L-let me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands worked quickly, gathering the fallen books with care, his long fingers stacking them neatly before he rose to his feet.

“Oh, thank you so much.”

Your voice was sweet, warm, and when Jungkook finally looked up, his heart almost stopped. You were smiling softly at him and it was like the world around him blurred into nothing. His grip on the books faltered for half a second, but he recovered, handing them back to you with a little bow of his head, his cheeks blazing red.

The tardy bell rang, its shrill tone slicing through the moment, but Jungkook couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the floor, his gaze fixed on you as you shifted the books in your arms, muttering a soft curse under your breath.

“Shit, I gotta run! Mr. Min will kill me if I’m late again,” you squeaked, already dashing down the hall. But before you disappeared around the corner, you turned back, tossing him a quick, “Thank you!” with a smile that left him breathless.

The corridor felt eerily quiet after you were gone, the sound of your voice still echoing in his head. Jungkook stood there for a long moment, his arms limp at his sides, staring blankly at the spot where you’d been.

He finally shook himself free from the haze, his hands moving mechanically as he organized his books. Late for the first time in his life, Jungkook snapped back to reality and sprinted down the hall, heart pounding as he followed your path right to Mr. Min’s class.

› › ›

“No way you fell in love with me then, bunny! We barely even spoke,” you gasped, your finger darting out to poke his stomach. Jungkook’s lips parted with a giggle, his nose scrunching adorably as he squirmed under your touch.

“No, lovie, not then,” he murmured, cheeks flushing as your hand slipped beneath his band tee. Your fingers scratched lightly over his stomach, the gentle touch making him shiver. “But… I-I mean, it wasn’t long after,” he admitted, his voice soft. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his wide eyes meet yours, catching the way your brows lift with curiosity. You blinked up at him, waiting, patient and eager for him to continue.

‹ ‹ ‹

It had only been a week since Jungkook first saw you in the hallway, but it might as well have been a lifetime. You were everywhere — in his thoughts, his dreams, and in every single fucking non-AP class he attended. English history, algebra.

You were in them all.

Jungkook, always the first to arrive, would settle into his front-row seat, his books neatly arranged and his notes ready to go. He liked being prepared. But lately, his meticulous routine had a new highlight. The moment you walked in.

Sometimes you were with a friend, chatting and laughing as you strolled through the door. Other times, your boyfriend tagged along, his hand slung casually over your shoulder like he was flaunting a trophy. Jungkook told himself it didn’t bother him — not outwardly, at least — but the ache in his chest said otherwise. Still, he kept his head down, his crush buried deep where no one could see it. Someone like you would never look twice at someone like him.

But today, as always, he let himself dream.

You entered English with your friend Amara, your cheer uniform perfectly fitted, your smile lighting up the dull classroom. Jungkook’s eyes followed you despite himself, trailing after you as you took your usual spot at the back of the room. He strained to catch snippets of your conversation as he faced the front, his ears practically twitching when your voice softened.

“I don’t know, Mara,” you sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you set your book down. “It’s just, like, nothing special, you know?” Your voice softened as you gave a discreet glance around, checking for any of your boyfriend’s teammates who might overhear. “I’m not expecting something straight out of the movies, like the world stopping every time we’re together or anything… but I just think there could be… more? I don’t know,” you sighed again, flipping open your textbook with a hint of frustration.

The slight frown tugging at your tone had Jungkook’s own chest tightening. His pencil hovered over his notebook, forgotten, as Amara leaned into your shoulder with a sympathetic hum.

“I get it, honey,” she said, rubbing your arm soothingly. “You’re not asking for too much. Sure, this could be it,” she offered with a small shrug, “but maybe it’s not? You’ve only had one piece of candy, babe. Don’t toss the whole bag — there’s probably like six other flavors in there!”

You let out a quiet snort, pressing a kiss to her cheek in thanks as you shook your head, flipping through your textbook with a small smile.

Jungkook didn’t hear Mrs. Lee’s greeting when she entered. His thoughts were stuck on your words, his pencil idly sketching patterns across the margins of his notes as he wondered what kind of candy you did like.

The rest of class passed in a blur. Jungkook answered every question on the pop quiz mechanically, his pen moving on autopilot. When the bell rang and Mrs. Lee dismissed everyone a few minutes early, he packed up his things, following the stream of students. Somehow, he found himself just a few steps behind you and Amara, your scent filling the air as he tried — and failed — not to look at you.

He told himself it wasn’t intentional. His locker just happened to be near yours, that's all.

But before he could get too close, your voice snapped through the air, and it was nothing like the sweet tone he was used to hearing.

“What are you doing, you freak?”

Jungkook’s heart jumped as he rounded the corner, his brows furrowing at the scene before him. You stood by a locker, your arms crossed and eyes blazing as you glared down a football jock. His hands were raised in mock surrender, but the smirk on his face suggested he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“C’mon, Y/N… it’s just a joke.”

“Do you actually think that's funny, Minho? Like, that brings you amusement?” You spat as you ripped a piece of paper off a locker and scrunched it up, throwing it right at his chest.

Minho’s grin faltered, his gaze darting nervously to Amara, who stood beside you, arms crossed and brow raised in silent judgment.

“It’s just Kim Taehyung. The guy’s a dork—”

“Okay? And you’re a brainless jackass. But I’m not out here writing that on your locker, am I?” You scoffed, bending to snatch the crumpled paper off the ground, shooting him a venomous look. “Scram, freak. Or I’ll tell Chris to have your ass benched for the rest of the season.”

Minho swallowed hard, his demeanor crumbling under your glare. He muttered a half-hearted apology before turning and slinking down the hall, his shoulders hunched.

You rolled your eyes and turned to your locker, shoving your books inside and snapping it shut. Linking arms with Amara, you tossed the paper into the bin as you passed by, vanishing around the corner with her.

Jungkook's heart thundered in his chest as he approached the trash can. He glanced around, then reached in, pulling out the paper. Flattening it against his palm, his lips turned down as he took in the cruel scribbles defacing his best friend’s school photo.

“Virgin.” “Loser.” “Geek.”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on the corner you’d disappeared around before he refolded the paper and tucked it carefully into his pocket. He walked back to his locker, the whole scene replaying in his mind as he punched in his combination.

Fuck sakes, he sighed to himself, slamming his locker shut with more force than necessary.

Whenever he thought you couldn’t get more perfect, you proved him wrong. Every fucking time.

› › ›

“I didn’t know you were there,” you mumbled softly, your fingers stilling against his stomach as you blinked up at him.

“I know,” Jungkook murmured in reply, his voice tender. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, his gaze so soft it made your chest ache. “That’s what made me fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught, your brows knitting together as you stared at him, every part of you focused on the honesty in his expression. “Really?” you whispered, your voice small, your eyes stinging faintly as you took in the unguarded look on his pretty face.

“Yes, baby.” His nod was slow but sure, his usual nervous stammer absent as he watched you. “I knew you were funny from the jokes I’d hear you tell Amara and Jimin in class. I knew you were beautiful because, well...” he paused, his lips curling into a cheeky little smirk, “I have eyes.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, your lips curving into a grin as you leaned up to press a kiss to his mouth. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he kissed you back, stealing one more when you pulled away.

“But seeing how fiercely kind you are,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, his lisp softening his tone. “When you had nothing to gain from it, maybe even had something to lose…” His fingers traced slow patterns on your thigh, his gaze searching yours with quiet admiration. “That was it for me, baby. Knew I loved you in that moment, as… creepy as it sounds.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as warmth flooded your chest, adoration pouring out of you as you beamed at him. “My god, bunny,” you breathed, a mix of affection and pure horniness swirling in your veins.

Sitting up, you straddled his lap again, his big hands instantly sliding down to gently grip your bum as you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as his body melted beneath you, his lips parting to welcome your tongue, soft little sighs slipping from him as you deepened the kiss. When you finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, you murmured against his lips, “How did I land someone like you, huh?”

Jungkook’s response was a flustered sound, his lips parting as his eyes blinked open. “I’m the lucky one, not you,” he mumbled, his tone laced with that bratty insistence that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

You smirked, pulling back with a teasing glint in your eyes. “No,” you said with a giggle, your voice full of playful defiance. “I’m the lucky one.”

Jungkook’s pout deepened, his brows pulling together as his lips formed a soft, reluctant line. He didn’t like disagreeing with you, but there was no way he was letting you think anything less than the truth. “Baby, you could ask literally anyone in the entire school, and they’d all say—”

Your smile pursed into a soft frown, your fingers trailing along his jaw as your tone shifted. “Jungkook, I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks about us. They don’t know us. It’s just you and me, bunny.”

His lips parted slightly, his eyes wide as he looked at you, completely undone. Words failed him, leaving him silent as he took you in. Un-fucking-real, you were.

“Now admit I’m the lucky one,” you whispered, leaning in close as your hips rolled forward against his lap. His fingers tightened on your ass instinctively, his breath hitching at your movements.

“Lovie, n-no, you can’t do that—” His voice broke, his cock twitching against you.

“Yes, I can,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “Say it, bunny.” You pressed back into his hands, your hips grinding harder, the slow, deliberate rhythm making his head tip back against the headboard. His chest rose and fell in shallow pants, soft whimpers escaping his lips.

“Oh, g-god,” he choked out, his voice shaky as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your pace quickened, your barely covered cunt pressing just right against his bulge, drawing a breathy moan from you.

“Say it,” you urged, your voice dipping lower as your hands gripped his shoulders for leverage. You ground down harder, letting your soaked panties slide over his length.

His head shook weakly, his eyes clenching shut as his body trembled beneath you, his sticky covered-cock stiffening even more with every grind of your hips. “N-no, no—”

“Yes,” you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you picked up speed, your clit pulsing from the friction as your hips rolled fluidly over him. “I’m the lucky one, bunny. Say it.”

His body jerked beneath you, his cock twitching furiously as you moved. “I—” His voice faltered, another choked moan slipping out.

“Say it,” you commanded, your voice firm but laced with sweetness as your hips ground down harder. His moan was guttural, his whole body trembling as he edged closer to breaking.

“Uh, f-fuck, baby, please,” Jungkook pleaded, his voice high and trembling as his fingers sank deeper into the plush flesh of your ass. His grip tightened instinctively, desperate, as his hips snapped up in rhythm with your thrusts. “Please.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you insisted, your voice rising, each word punctuated by the purposeful grind of your hips. Your breath caught, a sharp gasp escaping when the tip of his cock pressed just right against you with a particularly rough roll. “Say it, bunny! I’m the lucky—”

“You’re the lucky one!” Jungkook cried out, his voice breaking as his hips jerked up, his cock throbbing painfully beneath the damp fabric of his boxers. Tears stung behind his closed eyelids, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge again, so close it was unbearable. “You’re the fucking lucky one, baby. You’re the lucky one… y-you’re t-the lucky one!”

The desperate confession sent a surge through your body, your fingers sliding up to cradle the sides of his neck. You squeezed lightly as your body tensed, the heat pooling in your core snapping all at once. Your orgasm crashed over you, a sharp gasp spilling from your lips as you shuddered above him.

Jungkook whimpered softly, his hips bucking up to meet yours instinctively, his hands gripping your asscheeks tighter to guide you through it. His head fell back against the headboard, his lips parted as he watched you ride out your high. His eyes were dazed, his heart pounding as he felt every tremble of your soft body against his.

“God, baby,” you panted, your voice breathless and raw as you collapsed forward. Jungkook caught you instantly, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you buried your face into his neck. His breath was shaky as he tilted his head to give you space, pressing his lips softly to your temple.

He kept moving beneath you, gentle, shallow thrusts that made you moan quietly into his neck. His own jaw went slack when he felt a little drool slip from your parted lips onto his skin, a faint whimper slipping from his throat. Your body was so relaxed, so pliant against him, that it felt like you might melt into him entirely.

Only when he felt your thighs begin to quiver from oversensitivity did he finally slow his movements, adjusting your shaky legs around his waist. He held you closer, snug against his chest, his big arms cradling you.

“So good, my sweetheart. Thank you,” you murmured weakly, your voice soft against his skin.

Jungkook shivered at the nickname, keening under you as you nuzzled deeper into his neck. “Of course, lovie,” he whispered back, fingers toying with the frills of your skirt. His heart swelled as he thought about the way those frills bounced when you were excited, how they flicked in the air when you ran up and jumped into his arms to greet him when he met you at the gym after practice.

He would never understand how someone like you chose to love him so openly, so unapologetically. You wore your love for him like a badge, proud to show the world that you were his, and it knocked the fucking air out of him every time.

He remembered the shock on everyone’s faces when the two of you first got together. Your classmates, your clique — even your best friend Amara, who was always very kind to him, couldn’t hide her surprise. The social gap between you was obvious, and Jungkook never blamed anyone for questioning it.

Even Taehyung, his own best friend, had laughed so hard he cried when Jungkook told him the news, punching his arm repeatedly in disbelief.

But you didn’t care. You let people take their time adjusting, sure, but if they didn’t? You made it clear they had no choice. His fierce, confident angel — always ready to defend him, to fight for him.

Jungkook was completely smitten. Utterly, irrevocably in love. He didn’t think he could possibly be any happier.

“Bunny, I really want to have sex.”

Huh. Never fucking mind.

“Y-yes,” he breathed instantly.

You smiled into his neck, a light laugh slipping from your lips as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Yes?”

“Yes, please?”

Your grin widened as you sat up, your fingers slipping into the soft hair at the back of his head. His arms remained locked around your waist, holding you tightly against him as he blinked up at you, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

“Yeah?” you teased, your voice gentle but laced with amusement. “You want to, baby?”

His nod was immediate, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I-I want everything with you,” he whispered, his tone so certain.

“Babyyy,” you cooed, your nose scrunching as you took in how fucking adorable he was. Leaning down, you peppered his pout with a dozen soft kisses, each one pulling the faintest smile to his lips before you leaned back. “I’m so excited, bunny,” you beamed, practically buzzing with giddiness as you pressed a quick peck to the side of his neck.

Gently, you began untangling his arms from around your waist, earning a quiet little pout as he reluctantly let you go. His wide, curious eyes stayed glued to you, watching as you stood on shaky legs and walked toward your desk.

His ears turned pink the second you bent down, his stomach flipping when he caught the full view of your very wet panties — as if he hadn’t just been grinding against you like a desperate puppy until you came two fucking minutes ago.

You hummed softly to yourself, rifling through a bag on the floor before pulling something out. Turning back, you padded toward him across the fluffy pink rug with a pretty grin.

Jungkook’s stomach dropped as his eyes locked on the object in your hand.

“I didn’t know what actual size you were, bunny, but you're big,” you giggled, holding up a box of condoms. An opened box of condoms. “So these should work.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as his wide eyes flicked between you and the box.

Jealousy wasn’t something Jungkook had ever really felt before. An only child, top of every one of his classes, and with no ex-girlfriends or siblings to contend with, he’d never had much of a reason.

But… well, things could certainly change.

You were about to climb back onto the bed when you caught your boyfriend’s expression, and the unease on his face was impossible to ignore. He obviously tried to mask it, but he was terrible at that, and the moment you saw it, your brows furrowed.

You gently placed the box next to his glasses on your bedside table, your focus shifting entirely to him. “Hello?” you asked gently, stepping closer and cupping his face with both hands.

“Hello,” he echoed softly, his voice wavering as he forced a small, unconvincing smile.

Your frown deepened. The confusion swirling in your eyes only grew as your fingers traced over his pink cheeks, trying to draw his gaze to yours. But he didn’t meet your eyes. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze fixed somewhere behind you. You caught the faintest glint of unshed tears, and your chest clenched painfully.

“Jungkookie,” you whispered, your voice soft but full of concern. You dropped your hands to the bed and climbed back into his lap, settling against him as you took his trembling arms in your hands.

His body felt tense beneath yours, and you searched his face, desperate to understand. “Baby, what’s wrong? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Oh god, did I pressure you into this?” Your words came out in a rush, your heart racing at the thought. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I would never—”

“No, n-no, lovie,” Jungkook cut you off, his voice shaking as his head snapped up to meet your worried gaze. His nose was red, the way it always got when he was holding back tears, and your heart twisted further.

You leaned in without hesitation, pressing soft, reassuring kisses to his cheeks as his breath stuttered. His sniffle was quiet but unmistakable, and your frown deepened as you stroked his arms.

“Never force me,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. “You’d never… could never.” The break in his voice made your chest ache. “M’sorry, lovie,” he whispered. “T-this is so embarrassing. I… I can leave—”

The moment your hands slipped away from his arms, Jungkook felt his chest clench like it was collapsing in on itself. His vision blurred as he blinked up at you, only to find you leaning back, your face etched with hurt. The sight made him wish he hadn’t looked at all.

“You’re embarrassed?” you asked quietly. Your gaze dropped, shoulders slumped as you swallowed thickly.

Jungkook’s heart splintered.

“I-in front of me?”

And just like that, he thought he might die.

Jungkook had never heard you stammer. You’d never hesitated or questioned yourself in all the time he’d known you. From the moment you first started growing close, you’d been so open, so you. Sharing every part of yourself with him so effortlessly, so willingly.

Emotionally, physically, everything.

You’d always encouraged Jungkook to do the same. And even though he was naturally more timid, careful with who he opened up to, with you, it was easy. Automatic. He found himself wanting to tell you everything. Wanting to show you every piece of himself, no matter how small or unpolished. It was like he got high off it — off knowing you wanted to know him as much as he wanted to know you.

The day you asked him to be official was the single best day of his entire life. Honestly, every day with you had felt like that. You were so bright, so beautiful, so confident, so contagious. Pulling him out of his shell with such love and ease in the way only you could. Like you were born to love him, and he was born to love you.

But now, here he was, making you doubt yourself — maybe even your relationship. The two things that felt like the only substantial evidence that could ever convince Jungkook of a higher power. All because he was a jealous fucking crybaby.

There was just no fucking way.

“N-no, baby,” he choked out, his voice trembling as his hands darted forward, catching yours before you could move away. He gripped them tightly, his panic bubbling over as he shook his head frantically, his damp bangs swaying with the motion. “No, lovie, no, please.” You looked so fucking sad. He did that? He made you sad? What in the fuck.

“Lovie, t-the condoms,” he blurted out, his voice cracking as his grip on your hands tightened, like letting go might make everything fall apart.

You blinked down at him, confused. “Yeah? What about them, bun?” you asked softly, shifting back into his lap, your hands resting gently on his thighs. “Do you not want to use them?”

Jungkook swallowed when you tilted your head, your lips curving into the smallest pout. “I’m not on the pill or anything, baby,” you added, your hands drifting up to graze over his stomach. “If you trust yourself to pull out, we can try that... But we’re still stopping by the drugstore before my parents get home for Plan B,” you teased, your fingers brushing over his soft abs. “I’m not ready for a little mini valedictorian running around my—”

“Open.”

The word tumbled out of Jungkook’s mouth before he could stop it, rushed and breathless, cutting you off mid-sentence. His lashes fluttered nervously, and his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as he realized what you’d just implied.

Kids. With him?

His cock twitched at the thought, a pulse of heat surging through him that left him slightly dazed. But the panic wasn’t gone yet.

“The condoms,” he stammered, his voice thick as he swallowed hard. “T-they’re open.”

Your head tilted further, confusion clouding your expression as your fingers continued their slow, absentminded trail over his skin. “Huh?” you hummed, glancing over at the bedside table.

Reaching for the box, you leaned away just long enough to grab it before settling back onto his lap. Jungkook watched, his wide eyes glued to you as you straddled him once more.

You pressed a soft kiss to his trembling lips, silencing the shaky noise that escaped him. His hands instinctively found your hips as your fingers skimmed over the box, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Oh,” you hummed, holding it up between you, your tone light and casual. “I opened them earlier to check if they’d fit you, baby. The guy at the store last week wouldn’t let me test them there,” you added with an eye rol as you thought back to the interaction. “But he said they stretch, so if you’re really as big as I said you were, these should be fine.”

Jungkook’s ears burned, his gaze fixed on the box as your words sank in. Your confidence left his mind spinning. His chest swelled with a confusing mix of pride and embarrassment, and for a second, he didn’t know which was stronger.

But you didn’t seem to notice his spiraling thoughts. Tossing the box back onto the bedside table, you giggled softly, your fingers trailing up his neck to his flushed neck. “I don’t think he believed me,” you added, your lips curving into a playful grin. “But he also looked really uncomfortable the whole time. So I just grabbed these and came home.”

Your laugh filled the room, soft and sweet, and Jungkook wanted to record it and listen to it on repeat while he studied. He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips parting to say something, anything, but his brain felt like it was shortcircuiting. You do that to him a lot.

Then your head tilted, your thumbs pressing gentle circles into his tense shoulders. “You okay, bunny?” you asked softly.

Jungkook blinked up at you, his throat dry and his cheeks burning. “Y-yeah,” he managed, his voice cracking faintly as his ears flushed pink. “I’m good, lovie.”

You hummed softly, the sound gently skeptical, as if you didn’t quite believe him but weren’t going to push just yet. Your hands drifted lower, tracing soothing patterns over his arms, and Jungkook felt some of the tension in his chest begin to ease.

But then your eyes caught his, glinting with that familiar mischief, and as you leaned in to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, Jungkook knew he was doomed.

“Good,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft and deliberate as you pressed your mouth to his in a slow kiss.

His breath stuttered, his grip on your hips tightening as your lips moved against his, stealing the tiny gasp that slipped out of him. When you pulled back, it was only slightly, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Did you think I used some already, my love?”

Jungkook froze, his wide, doe-like eyes snapping to yours. You felt him swallow hard, his brows knitting together as pink flooded his ears. Slowly, he gave you the smallest, saddest nod, his gaze dropping to where your hands rested on his shoulders.

“I-I didn’t know,” he stammered, his voice barely audible, the words shaky and unsure. “I'm sorry baby, I thought maybe you already…”

“Oh, my baby,” you cooed, shaking your head gently as you cupped his face. Your thumbs brushed over his cheeks as you tilted his chin back up, forcing him to meet your eyes. The moment his gaze locked with yours, you leaned in, pressing another kiss to his pout.

His breath hitched, his hands trembling as they clutched at your waist. He let out the softest little whimper when your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly. When you pulled back, you pressed a sweet kiss to his nose, smiling when his eyelids lowered in content.

“I’m still a virgin, bunny,” you whispered, against his mouth. "We already talked about this. We’re going to be each other’s first… we promised.”

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut at your words, his chest heaving as he let out a shaky breath. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, and you could practically see the wave of relief wash over him.

You pressed another kiss to his swollen lips, your fingers threading back through his hair. “I meant that, Kookie."

His response was a quiet whimper as his hands slid up from your hips to clutch your waist. “I-I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “So much, baby.”

Then he was kissing you again, and it was different this time — more urgent, more desperate, his lips moving against yours with a need that was just so him.

You hummed into his mouth, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you let him take control. His kisses grew more open-mouthed, sloppier, each one punctuated by the quietest little whimpers.

“I love you too, my baby,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. Your fingers slid through his hair, gently tugging as he leaned forward, chasing your lips. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, baby,” he stammered, his big eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “With everything. Always.”

Jungkook’s lips didn’t falter, moving to your neck when you smiled happily at his words. Your breathing picked up as his lips pressed and sucked at your pulse point. His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin, and your hips ground against him instinctively, drawing a muffled whine from his throat.

It was so messy now, your slick soaking through your panties and smearing over the fabric. Every slow roll of your hips had his cock throbbing, straining against the damp cotton of his briefs and damp denim of his jeans, the friction making you both shudder.

“Baby, hold on,” you gasped, your voice breathy as your fingers found their way back to his hair,.

“Mm, n-no, please,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice slurred like he was drunk. He nuzzled deeper into the crook of your neck, his hands squeezing your boobs, his fingers trembling slightly as they grazed your bare skin. “Don’t wanna stop.”

“We won't, bunny,” you murmured, your words catching in your throat as his hips jerked up, grinding against you. You gripped his wrists, pulling his hands from your chest, and he blinked up at you cutely.

“Wh—” he started, the protest dying on his lips the second you were tugging your crop top off and tossing it aside. His gaze snapped to your chest, his bunny teeth pulling his bottom lip into his mouth in impatience.

“Babyy,” he breathed, his voice cracking. His head shook softly as his throat tightened in hunger. He leaned forward, diving toward you, but you stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. “Hold on, bun,” you said softly, reaching down for the hem of his band tee.

Jungkook caught on instantly, his hands rushing to tug the shirt off, yanking it over his head and tossing it somewhere to the side. He was back on you immediately, his warm chest pressing against yours as his lips found yours again.

You melted into it, slow and lingering, savoring the way his lips dissolved against yours. When he pulled back, his chest heaved, his voice shaky as he stammered, “How—what do you—uh, should I—”

“Mm,” you murmured, your hands cupping his face. His cheeks were hot under your palms, and his wide eyes blinked up at you. “Should we try with me on top, bunny? Do you feel more comfortable on your back?”

He furrowed his brows immediately, his lips parting like he was offended you’d even suggest prioritizing his comfort over yours. “Lovie,” he said, his voice soft but determined, “what’s more comfortable for you? Are your legs hurting? Come on, let’s—”

Before you could respond, he was moving. His arms slid around you, and he gently flipped you onto your back, his body hovering over yours.

You blinked up at him, surprised but amused, your hands brushing his shoulders. “Okay, this is more comfy, bunny. I like it.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed, his lips twitching into a shy smile. “Good,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it. His hands slid over your hips as he shifted to kneel on the bed.

“I-I'll grab the condom,” he said, his voice cracking faintly as he reached for the box on your bedside table. His hands shook as he fumbled with the box, and you tilted your head, watching him with a soft smile.

“Kookie,” you said gently, your hand brushing over his thigh. His eyes snapped to yours, wide and nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, nodding quickly, but his breath was shallow, and his cheeks were a fiery red. “I’m just—I’m so excited...”

Your heart swelled, and you sat up slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Me too,” you giggled. “Can I do it?”

He nodded instantly, his gaze fixed on you as you took the condom from his hands, his chest heaving as you sat up fully, your knees brushing his.

As you were tearing it open, Jungkook hastily clambered off the bed. His cheeks were pink as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, tugging the fabric down his legs.

You watched as he stepped out of the denim, his thighs flexing with the motion, leaving him in just his black briefs. He hesitated for a second, glancing at you shyly, but your pleased smile eased the tension in his tummy.

“Yummy,” you hummed, your voice giddy as you patted the spot in front of you on the bed.

Jungkook nibbled back a smile, climbing back onto your mattress and kneeling in front of you again.

“So pretty, bun,” you praised softly as you dug your hand into your boyfriend's boxers, your warm hand wrapping around his sticky length to pull it out fully.

Jungkook’s breath hitched the moment he felt the contact on his bare cock, his lips trembling as he tried to respond. But all that came out was a shaky moan, his head tipping back as his hands gripped your waist for balance. His reddened cock twitched in your hand, and your thumb grazed the fresh, slick bead of precum pooling at the tip.

You glanced down at his length, then at his shirt beside you on the bed, biting your lip softly. “Baby?” you asked gently, your voice pulling his attention back to you.

His brows furrowed in pleasure as he blinked down at you, his chest heaving. “Y-yeah, baby?” he stammered, his voice breathless.

“I want to clean you up, s'that okay?” you murmured, your tone sweet as your fingers stroked him softly.

He nodded immediately, a faint whine slipping from his lips. “Of course, lovie. Use, uh, m-my shirt, yeah?” His hands fluttered slightly like he wasn’t sure where to put them, but his gaze stayed fixed on you.

Your brows knitted together in thought, and you glanced at the shirt again, the corner of your lip pulling between your teeth. “But then you won’t have anything to wear later,” you mused, tilting your head as you pictured him walking out of your house half-naked. Your parents were very open and sex-positive, and they loved your adorable boyfriend. But some things were just for the two of you.

You pushed the thought away, your grip on his cock shifting slightly as another idea sparked. “Baby,” you said again, your voice quieter this time, and his eyes darted back to yours.

“Yes, lovie?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly, the furrow in his brow deepening at the soft tone of your voice.

“I’m going to clean you up.” You repeated, your lips curving into a reassuring smile as you stroked him lightly, your thumb circling the leaky head.

He nodded again, his breathing shallow. “Y-yeah, of course,” he stammered. “I-I can get some tissues if you want—”

“With my mouth,” you whispered, tilting your head as you glanced up at him.

Jungkook’s body went still for a beat. His eyes closed instantly as he swallowed harshly. “Lovie, I can, uh—I can grab some paper towels or—”

You pouted slightly. “You don’t want me to?” you murmured, your lips curling down just a little as your hand paused around his length. “Didn’t you like it last time?”

His eyes snapped open immediately, panic flashing across his face as he scrambled to respond. “I loved it, baby,” he blurted. “Wh-what the heck, no, it’s just that you don’t have to—”

“Baby,” you interrupted, your frown deepening a little as your hand squeezed lightly around his wet, reddened cock. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his pout. “Anything I offer to do for you, I really wanna... Please, bunny?”

Jungkook’s breath hitched at your words, his wide eyes flickering over your face like he was trying to internally screenshot the moment. “O-of course, baby,” he stammered. “Yes. You can do anything to me.”

You smiled at him sweetly, letting go of him gently to shuffle back. You sat up and slipped your fingers under the hem of your cheer skirt, Jungkook’s eyes widening as you lifted your hips, peeling the fabric off and tossing it aside.

His gaze dropped instantly to the pink panties that clung to you, a dark patch of slick soaking through the fabric where it met your pussy. The curve of your asscheeks swallowed the edges, and Jungkook swore he heard his cock cry in response.

He choked on his breath, his head tipping back briefly before snapping forward again, his eyes fixed on you like he couldn’t bear to look away. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and shaky.

“Don’t curse, bunny,” you teased softly, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you knelt in front of him. Your hand wrapped around his length again, your other hand resting lightly on his thigh as you leaned down.

He trembled the moment your tongue flicked out, licking delicately at the sticky head of his cock. “Oh god,” he whimpered, his thighs tensing under your touch as his hips jerked up.

“Mm,” you hummed softly, your tongue dragging over the sensitive tip before licking a slow, long stripe along the length, cleaning him up thoroughly. Jungkook gasped, his head tipping back as his hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to grip the bed or your hair.

Your lips closed around the head, and the sound he made was devastating — a soft, broken whimper as his cock twitched against your tongue. You took him deeper, your hand sliding along the base as you hollowed your cheeks, and Jungkook practically crumpled in on himself.

“B-baby,” he stammered, his voice cracking as his hips jerked up involuntarily. “S-so warm—ah, fuck—”

Your fingers dug lightly into his thigh as you steadied him, a soft hum vibrating around his length. His hands found their way to your hair, trembling as they cradled your head, his breathing ragged as he gasped out your name between stuttering moans.

You hummed around him again, the vibration pulling a soft cry from his lips as his long fingers gripped your shoulders. He was already shaking, already on the edge again, his cock throbbing against your tongue as you took him a little deeper.

Pulling back slightly, you let your tongue swirl over the head one more time before trailing lower, licking along the length and then past it. Jungkook’s breath hitched, his thighs tensing as you nudged at his balls with your tongue, taking one into your mouth gently.

“Ah—baby,” he gasped, his voice high and breathy, his hands flying to your hair to ground himself.

You hummed softly, your hand continuing to stroke his cock as you sucked lightly, your tongue lapping at the soft skin of his balls. His thighs trembled against your arms, his hips jerking slightly with each flick of your tongue.

“Oh my god, lovie,” he whined, his voice shaking as his head tipped back, exposing the flushed column of his throat. “You’re—ahh—so g-good at this.”

You pulled back for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to his other ball before licking a wet stripe back up his length, your lips curling into a smile at the way his whole body shuddered. “I don’t even know what I’m doing, bunny, I just know I want to eat you,” you giggled before taking him back into your mouth.

The scent of his body wash mixed with a hint of sweat wafting from his skin, combined with the sound of his whimpers, made your head fucking spin. You moaned softly around his cock, the sound reverberating against him and pulling a loud, choky cry from his lips.

Jungkook’s breathing was ragged, his moans spilling freely as his hands clenched and unclenched against you. “Baby,” he whined, his voice high and broken, “I-I can’t, t-too much, I’m, oh, baby—”

You pulled back slowly, your tongue flicking over the sensitive cock-head one last time. His entire body shuddered, his head tipping back as his damp hair brushed his flushed shoulders.

“Ah,” he huffed, his bunny smile blooming across his face as he blinked down at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “T-thank you, baby.”

Your heart squeezed at the sight of him — so pink, so happy, so ridiculously pretty. You licked your lips and smiled up at him, reaching for the condom you had placed on the sheet next to you. His gaze stayed locked on you, lips parted as he breathed through his nose, his body still trembling slightly as you slid the condom down his cock.

The moment it was on, Jungkook shuddered, a pathetic whimper slipping from his lips. You beamed at him, your hands smoothing over his thick thighs as you leaned back into the pillows. “C'mere, bunny,” you urged, reaching up to pull him down toward you.

He was there in an instant, his body folding easily over yours as he settled against you, his arms bracketing your head. Your hands looped around his neck, pulling him into a quick kiss. His lips hummed against yours, and you could feel the faintest smile spreading as he sighed softly into the kiss.

“Okay, baby,” you whispered, brushing your lips over his, your voice teasing. “Take me.”

Jungkook giggled under his breath, his face so pink it almost matched the tips of his ears. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and breathy as he leaned back slightly, his hands finding their way to your thighs.

His thumbs stroked the soft flesh there, his touch slow and amazed. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the dark, damp patch between your legs. His breathing stuttered, wide eyes locked on the sight before him as his fingers twitched slightly against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he dipped his slender fingers under the hem of your panties. He glanced up at you, his lashes fluttering as his lips parted. “G-gonna take these… take these off.”

You nodded, biting your lip, and Jungkook swallowed hard as he hooked his fingers around the fabric. Slowly, carefully, he began dragging them down, his tongue twitching as the pink cloth clung to your sticky lips before peeling away.

“God,” he breathed out, his voice scratchy as he pulled the panties free, tossing them next to his discarded t-shirt. His gaze flicked back up to you for a moment, a little shy and a lot hungry, before dropping back down.

“C-can I…” he started, his voice small and hesitant as his fingers flexed against your thighs. “Can I lick it?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you nodded. “Yeah, baby,” you whispered, “can do whatever you want, my love.”

Jungkook’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he didn’t waste another second. He shifted lower, his head dipping between your thighs as his hands pushed them gently apart. His breath was warm against your slick folds, and the first swipe of his tongue pulled a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Shit, baby,” you gasped, your voice trembling as his tongue licked a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Jungkook let out the softest whimper, already addicted to the taste, the smell of you lingering in his nose. He wanted more. Needed more.

Your boyfriend's hands slid up to grip your thighs as his lips wrapped around your clit with vigor. He suckled greedily, his tongue flicking over the slick bud, and the strangled sound you made pulled a loud moan from his throat.

He was ravenous, going at it like he hadn’t shared a big lunch with you during your free period at school or scarfed down three strawberry pop-tarts the second you got back to your house. His tongue licked and lapped with sloppy desperation, his muffled whines vibrating against your pussy as he buried his face deeper. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you open as the nose you always called angelic brushed against your clit devilishly. Every shaky breath he took rode right through you as he nuzzled his face in deeper.

“Kookie,” you choked, your hands flying to his hair, threading through the growing strands as your hips jerked up involuntarily. “S-so good, baby. You’re so good. What the fuckk.”

The praise drew another whimper from him. His tongue dipped lower, teasing your entrance before sliding in, his face pressing as close as he could get. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but if there was anything your boyfriend excelled at, it was learning fast.

Groaning into you, the vibration sent sparks racing up your spine, and your back arched off the bed as a loud cry spilled from your lips. Jungkook was lost, consumed, his tongue working over you with messy hunger. Every sound you made spurred him on, his moans growing louder, more desperate as he tried not to press into the mattress and put pressure on his throbbing cock. He was worried even that wouldn’t be enough, though, afraid that the scent of your pussy alone was enough to make him cum.

“L-love it, baby, thank you,” he whimpered into you, his voice muffled as he refused to pull away, his big tongue immediately going back to circling and lapping over your clit.

You could barely respond, your throat raw from your little cries as his movements grew sloppier, needier. His whines were constant, muffled by your pussy lips.

He was relentless, his lips and tongue moving with an urgency that had your thighs trembling around his head. The room felt so warm, the wet, lewd sounds of his mouth against your cunt filling the air, each slick movement sending you higher and higher.

“Kookie,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. His body jerked at the touch, a muffled groan vibrating against your folds. Your hand in his hair pushed his head just a little until he— oh, there.

“Shitt! I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna cum, baby. F-fuck, bunny, let’s do it.”

He whimpered in response but didn’t stop immediately, his tongue slipping over your clit a few more times. His nose brushed against you as he took a deep breath, savoring the smell, before finally pulling back. Panting softly, his lips and chin shone with your slick as he blinked up at you, drunk and breathless.

Jungkook’s body trembled as he crawled back up, his hands bracketing your waist until he was fully resting over you. For a moment, neither of you moved, both staring into each other’s flushed, panting faces.

Then your lips curled into a grin, the tension in your chest breaking, and Jungkook couldn’t help but follow. His bunny smile spread wide across his pink face, his eyes soft and adoring.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He melted into you immediately, his lips soft and sticky against yours, his body pressing into you like he was trying to become part of you.

“Love you so much, baby,” he whispered into your mouth.

“I love you more, bunny,” you murmured back, your fingers brushing over the back of his neck as you pressed another soft kiss to his pout. His lips lingered against yours for a moment before you pulled back, your gaze excited as you watched him catch his breath.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his gaze flickering down to your body beneath him. Slowly, his hand moved to wrap around his cock, the sight making your breath hitch. He was so focused, his lips parted slightly, his bunny teeth worrying at his bottom lip as his brows furrowed in concentration.

He lined himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds as you both looked down, watching the moment. His chest rumbled with a quiet, shaky whine, his whole body bracing itself for a quick death as he pushed forward slightly, the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

Your breath caught, the stretch foreign but not unpleasant — a sharp heat that quickly melted into something deeper and so much fuller. “Kookie,” you sighed out, your fingers scratching softly at the nape of his neck in encouragement.

Jungkook’s breath stuttered, his gaze darting up to meet yours, searching for reassurance that you were okay. You read the look instantly, nodding softly. “I'm good, baby. So good. Keep going, bunny.”

His lips trembled as he nodded, his hand tightening around the base of his cock as he slowly pushed in further. The wet heat of your walls enveloped him, and his head tipped forward, a broken moan spilling from his lips as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

“O-oh my god, l-lovie,” he stammered, his voice cracking as his body shuddered against yours. He fed another inch of his cock deeper, the sensation causing his free hand next to your head to curl into a fist.

a/n if you're gobsmacked at the sudden ending, that's what u get for not reading the author's note :P sorry guys dklsdfskl LOVE U and so sorry this was shite oop 🩷 good night

perm taglist: @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @vantaebearr @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @jungshook-v @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater @myjungkookthighs @nikidream24 @whothefuckisthishoe @4noirre @gaebestie @uzum-uzum @lllucere @dragonflygurl4 @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw

[lenalvthor]

hey i have a fucking bone to pick with sapphic fandoms

like, i get it okay. i've been on tumblr since 2011, i was in the trenches during the bury your gays nightmare, i grew up on buffy, i watched the 100, i've been through the furious and devastating queerbaits, and i've watched helplessly as the boom of proper progress with sapphic rep has burned and disappeared with the faults of the industry as it is rn and the resurgence of bury your gays in the form of tv cancellations

i even did a fucking guest lecture for a film & tv university course a couple years ago on all of this

we joke about the fact that queer (specifically sapphic) fans flock to any show with the barest hint of rep in it because we're so starved for it, and we talk about the fact that if nothing else, that proves that there's a market and an audience and it usually creates a huge wave of viewership and attention for the show

but i need to fucking point out: acting as though a show exists for the sole purpose of the sapphic relationship you've started watching it for is fucking detrimental to how you'll perceive the show, how it'll get talked about in fandom spaces and then beyond that (bc the line between fandom spaces and wider online discussion of media is a lot thinner than it was ten years ago) and isn't actually going to do any good for sapphic rep! like, at all! because guess what! unless you're watching a show where the entire storyline revolves around romance, this couple you're watching for ISN'T going to be the centre of the story! it's a part of it! and there's such a weird fucking entitled toxicity to how fans act around brilliant storytelling and worldbuilding and writing and characters throwing tantrums about not getting more screentime for the relationship they like because they don't actually care about any other part of the story. and the thing about people who watch something solely for a ship rather than the wider story it exists in, is that a lot of the time, you'll fundamentally misinterpret the characters and their dynamic because you're not taking any of the wider context of the world and story into account at all.

and yes, of course i'm talking about agatha all along in the immediacy. because we knew a long, long time ago that billy maximoff was gonna be an integral part of this story, long before we knew anything about what the vibe of this show was gonna be, long before anyone even had the tiniest whisper of rio's existence. the same way wandavision was monica rambeau's origin story even though the show was wanda's, we suspected that agatha all along would be billy's/wiccan's origin story even if the show focused on agatha. and you know fucking what. that's good fucking storytelling. this show is smart, it's funny, it's curious, it's campy, it's queer, and it's ensemble. that's always been the point. agatha and rio were a delightfully unexpected part of it that added such delicious tension and phenomenal sapphic rep, but you know what else! the point of that dynamic is to flesh out agatha's character! this show isn't about agatha and rio! it's about agatha and billy, who they are, how their pasts and their magic are connected, their traumas and their power and how the road shapes their futures! rio is a part of exploring agatha's past, and it's phenomenal, but i am so fucking bewildered by the ridiculousness of people's reactions to billy now having a bigger part in the story and there being less focus on agatha and rio. you do know that you write scenes and characters and stories in a way that makes sense right? that because of the nature of this show, even if we don't get more than a handful agatha and rio scenes for the rest of the episodes, they're both still sapphic characters, this is still wonderful sapphic rep, and this show is still very, very queer?

like, it's obviously not fair that we have to beg for scraps to have queer shows to watch. but that doesn't mean that any of us get to do such a fucking disservice to the people who make amazing shows and fight to put sapphic rep in them within the contexts of the stories they're telling by whining that it's not enough. what we're getting with agatha all along, what kathryn han and aubrey plaza and jac schaeffer have said with such grace and nuance and intrigue and depth about agatha and rio's relationship, is so fucking rare! and it's nestled within a story that's got so much other intricate storytelling that makes agatha and rio richer characters when you actually pay some fucking attention and care about who they are outside of their sexual tension!

and i'm saying this because this is an issue i see with So many other shows, where the worth of a show gets boiled down to fandoms wanting content of their ship and nothing else and then poisoning the conversation and reception around what else it is that show is doing with its story. idk get some fucking media literacy, grow up and respect artists and creatives.

[satorurize]

He wanted them three rounds, DC had to come help him

Pairings: Established relationship, bf!gojo, reader is AFAB, a little lovesick gojo, he's overworked :(

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, freaky!gojo, marathon sex, p in v, (multiple) creampies and orgasms, squirting, feral gojo, sex in general.

Gojo Satoru is a freak..

Rumors about him being an absolute slut is true, but there is no bigger example than Satoru who is a slut and a virgin, a walking contradiction, before he met you.

Satoru looks at you in almost apprehensiveness when you give him a soft gaze at the revelation. This wasn't a look of disappointment, it looked like....pity. And Satoru hated being pitied more than anything.

He's a little embarrassed, although you reassure him that it's something you will never care about.

"You are literally juggling too many things with barely three hours of sleep, and virginity is a social construct anyway.." You shrug, looking up at him hovering over you, his tip nuzzled between the ingress of your sopping pussy, and oh how he thought that the pity would make his cock soft but it didn't, it just made it harder. It was a little pathetic, the way his cock was so easy that mere words of care and tenderness and acknowledgement for his furious schedule has got him rock solid, with the pearls of his precum clustering on the exterior of your sweet cunt. He was that love starved.

It took everything to not give your pussy mauling thrusts already, he was never the one to talk about how he indeed wanted a break sometimes and he wouldn't even now, especially being this horny and excited that he felt like a dog in heat. He had more than a good idea of how to go on about it, he had seen it in the bad porno that never appealed to him.

"Sweetheart..just let me put it in, I feel like my cock is gonna explode..I don't want to think of a bunch of blobs that I exorcise, not very hot.." He chuckled cheekily, leaning into your cheek, looking at you with the periphery of his eyes with a lecherous gaze, planting hot, open mouthed kisses onto your jaw and neck while he ached.

"Always a brat.." You sighed, grabbing his endowed cock from the base, pushing it into your velvety walls with a look of challenge and amusement laced onto your face.

After that, all hell broke lose. There was nothing that would stop Gojo Satoru now, not even if he was to be kept caged within his infinity. He would break it, just to discern your sweet, sweet cunt.

The challenge that was plastered onto your face just vanished, your assumption that Satoru would stop just after the first round with the orgasm that hit him with the speed of light, which made him finish so fast that it was deplorable, was so so wrong. He went on, and on and on.

And Gojo Satoru was innately confident, the fact that this was his first time didn't matter. He was always explorative, always excessive. Bold of you to assume he understood the concept of moderation.

"O-oh..fuckk..Toru.." You looked up to him with your glassy, nearly red rimmed eyes from the nth orgasm of the night, your cloying moans just made him keep going. Your was pussy puffy and clit violently engorged after being fucked this thoroughly.

"U-uh-huh..yeah, you like that..fuuuck baby, look at you.." He cooed with a feral grin on his lips as he steadily moved his hips, keeping your legs hoisted up on his shoulders, getting the hang of it. His hip movements no longer uncoordinated. He had always been a fast learner. He stills his hips with a series of whimpers as he came with hot white, thick ropes into your womb, pulling out with a lewd pop that spilled the cum stuffed inside down to your ass. You moaned softly, hazy and a little disoriented as your fluttering pussy pushed it all out.

He hummed at the sight, tapping and massaging his now agitatingly red tip onto your clit, he himself could feel his brain seem afloat, reverberating to take you again even after the multiple orgasms. He was dead set.

He hissed softly with widened eyes, in surprise and amusement, a full blown throaty laugh echoing his throat when you squirted, gushing out like a dam. He vigorously rubbed his sensitive cock on your sloshing pussy, his cock unbearably hard again. He was hooked, addicted. To you.

He grasped your hips, pulling you forward which made you mewl at the suddenness. He pressed his hefty weight on your body, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. If he had a laceration on his brain from the way this image of you burned in his head, sprawled underneath him, all flushed, sweaty and a mess, just for him. He would die rather than using his RCT.

"God baby..you washed my cum away, gonna hafta, fill you up again.."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagarism not authorised.

m.list!

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈'𝐌 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆) ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S A DEPARTMENT HEAD !! ❞

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

✧ summary: you and suguru enter a new phase in your relationship— long distance. the two of you work hard to keep your relationship alive and well — but what happens when distance and work starts to weigh on your time together?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, long distance relationship, phone sex, shower sex, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, yuta appears *gasp*, fanart found on pinterest (if anyone knows the og artist, pls let me know)

✧ wc: 14,288 | part one | part two | part three

“Baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “c’mon, you have to wake up, we can’t be late,” your boyfriend groans, pulling the covers over his head, and you giggle, gently tugging at the comforter held taut over his head.

“No,” he’s murmuring, as you roll your eyes, “a few more minutes,”

“A few minutes for you will turn into a few hours,” you chuckle, as your fingers finally find the inside of the comforter.

And you’re finally able to pull it off, Suguru’s long locks askew as his pretty obsidian eyes flutter half open, and your lips curl.

How did you get so lucky?

Your fingers run over his cheek, before you press a kiss to his forehead, “C’mon Mr. Department Head, you’re going to be late at this rate — you have to get the keys to your new apartment today and you have a meeting with the staff too,”

Suguru groans, his lips in a rare pout — mornings were truly his most vulnerable times, “Does it have to be today?” He draws close to you, burying his face in your neck, and your fingers slowly rake through his locks, gently easing the knots that formed in the night.

“Unfortunately yes,” you murmur, your fingers tucking a few locks behind his ear, “but I’ll be visiting you in two weeks, it will pass by quick,” it did feel like forever — but you knew it wouldn’t be. The summer would end one way or another and now he was leaving for Kyoto — officially three weeks before classes start, “and we’ll be spending the whole week together — we can explore a little more than we got to before,”

“I know,” he still is surely unconvinced, moving back to look up at you with certifiably the cutest purse of his lips, his warm hand finding your cheek, “but then why does every minute without you feel so much longer?”

Your lips find his in a lazy kiss, your hand sliding to the nape of his neck, his soft locks brushing against your knuckles, “But that will make the minutes we do spend together that much more special, right?”

He hums, pressing his forehead against yours, “how are you so positive about this?” And you sigh, your nose bumping against his, as you press a chaste kiss to his lips again.

“Because it’s the only way I can not completely break down,” you sigh, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you back into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, heart thudding nearly right under your ear, “what time do you have to leave?”

He glances at his phone, “not for another two hours,” and you curl up, fingers sliding against his smooth skin.

“Then a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt,” you murmur.

And you’d take any minute that you could get with him, especially now.

~~~

“Do you have everything?” Suguru never knew quite how much you could fuss over him, until the last few days. You seemed to obsess over every detail — his credentials, his electronics, his clothes — it’s as if you wanted everything squared away — and you simply couldn’t focus on anything else.

Because, you probably didn’t want to.

“I do, I have everything — I have things I didn’t need that you put in the car,” you pout as he chuckles, and he can’t help but lean in and kiss the pout from your lips, “I’ll be okay, I’ll call you as soon as I get there,” he murmurs, “can you pack yourself up and get in the car? Then I’ll really have everything I need,”

You blink rapidly, as if to ward off tears, as you can’t quite meet his gaze, “I wish I could,” you murmur, as your arms wrap around him, and his do the same, pulling you into a tight hug, “how am I going to survive the next two weeks without you?”

“It’s just two weeks right? Like you said it will pass by quick—“

You shake your head, “I just said that to make you feel better,” you look up at him, glassy eyed, “I changed my mind, stay here,” you whine, and he laughs, running his fingers through your hair.

“Think it’s a little late for that sweetheart,” he sighs, his fingers sliding under your chin, “after all, you packed up the rest of my things into my car, so unless I’m living out of it—“

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, as you rub your eyes, and he pulls your hands away gently, kissing your tears away, “I’ll miss you so much,”

“Not as much as me,” and you lean up to kiss him, a sweet kiss that only leaves him aching for more. Why was it the more he had of you — the more he always needed? He knew these first two weeks would be the hardest, but honestly, he’s not sure if it would ever get easier.

Because he needs you. Always.

“Ah wait,” you smile, reaching into your pocket, “you forgot one thing—” and you pull out a key, and he tilts his head, “it’s a key to my place,”

And he blinks, “You don’t—”

“I want to,” you kiss him again, even softer somehow, “please take it,” so he does, as you place the piece of metal into his palm, “plus, it’s practical, if I’m not around, you can let yourself in,”

“Make myself comfortable?” his lips quirk.

“Very comfortable,” you press your forehead to his again, “Go,” you murmur, you pull away reluctantly, his body already mourning the loss of your touch, your fingers still intertwined, “otherwise, I’ll just block your car with my body to get you to stay,”

He rolls his eyes, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, “I’d like to see that,” he presses his forehead to yours, “promise you’ll stop me from ever accepting a job that makes me be away from you for any amount of time again?”

“Now that’s a promise I’ll keep,” you squeeze his fingers one last time, “I think it’s what’s owed to us isn’t it?”

He knows he would never be able to repay what he owes you for everything you’ve done for him — how happy you’ve made him—

“It is,” he smiles, one last kiss to your lips, as he slips into the driver’s seat before he can change his mind.

—But he would try.

~~~

When you go back to your apartment — it feels far too empty. Even though Suguru didn’t live with you — it felt as if he had made a place for himself here, and he had, but he had left it. For now, you remind yourself. His place would be here for him, when he came back.

But it turned out two weeks was a lot of time to kill when you still hadn’t started classes — your days filled with nothing but time for you to spend. None of your friends from class had made it back yet either — so you were stuck trying to find things to do. Suguru was busier than expected — dragged to meeting after meeting and showed off more than a show dog to the department’s professors, alumni, and donors. Suguru often fell asleep on the phone with you, his soft snores filling your ears, as you fell asleep along with him.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if all semester would be like this — especially once his classes started. You understood — you did — this is what you signed up for and it was far from Suguru’s fault. But you couldn’t help but miss him. And that wasn’t surprising — but what was surprising was how much you missed him.

Your bed was bought for one, but now it felt empty with only you occupying it — a cold barren front without your usual refuge in his arms. And the days weren’t bad — you found things to keep you busy — but the evenings and weekends that you usually had spent with Suguru dragged like a child dragged their feet at the grocery store — reluctantly and without patience.

So maybe you needed to do the same that you’d do for a restless child — a distraction.

“Do you know of any organizations I could join?” You had asked Suguru on one of your video call dinner dates — and he hummed thoughtfully as he picked up soba noodles between his chopsticks, “I just feel like I need something to fill my time,”

“The semester hasn’t even started and you’re already thinking about other things to do?” He raises an eyebrow, and you suppress a giggle at the sight of a bit of the soup that remained on the side of his chin. The very same you wished that you could thumb away for him, “my favorite student is as ambitious as always,”

“Your girlfriend is even more so,” you roll your eyes, as you gesture to your own face to signal, and he wipes his, “c’mon, I know my favorite professor must have something to recommend. I know how he looooves to give me suggestions,”

And he snorts, setting his chopsticks down on his bowl as he finishes his meal, “Then I suggest you think about joining the student government — they have a specific section for graduate students and professors, it would be a good opportunity for you to branch out, and put the philosophy department’s brightest on the map,”

Your lips curl at the compliment, “you think I’m the brightest?”

“I was talking about myself,” and you roll your eyes, as he smirks at you, as he picks up his phone and his dishes to clean up, “I think it would be perfect. Why don’t you speak to Yaga about it? He was trying to goad me into recommending some students,”

“So this really is self-serving, huh?” the water of the sink runs in the background, as you do the same, placing your dishes in the sink — tomorrow’s problem — as you washed your hands, “what would I even know about student government anyway?”

“Philosophy has a lot to do with governance, you know that — Cicero, Plato, Aquinas, Machiavelli—“

“Saving the most benevolent philosopher for last,” and you can hear him chuckle, as the water squeaks shut, and he picks up his phone, a smile playing on his lips, “do you think I could help?”

“I think you can do anything, sweetheart, except get a 100% in my class,” and you gape at him, as he laughs, and your heart aches for that sound, more than you thought was possible, “you should do it, what’s stopping you?”

And you bite your lip — yes, you wanted to be busier, but you didn’t want to be too busy for this. To spend time with Suguru — no matter how little it was. But you knew it would be good for you — for both of you. The last thing you wanted was to be needy — even if this week was proving that you were needier than you thought you were.

“Nothing I guess,” you sigh, as you make your way to your bedroom, “I’ll email Professor Yaga in the morning,”

“Good,” Suguru is sat on his bed as well now, his phone propped up, “and your boyfriend has another suggestion,” and you raise an eyebrow, “I suggest my favorite student brings my favorite t-shirt with them when they come to visit me,”

You gasp in mock shock, “You gave this shirt to me,”

“No, I asked you where it was and you said you packed it already, but I see you pilfered it away when I wasn’t looking,” he tilts his head, “now take it off,”

“Professor, that’s not a proper way for a department head to speak to a student,” you still let the shirt ride up as you lean back against your pillows, “have you not gotten your ethics training yet about appropriate behavior?”

“That’s interesting, you didn’t seem to mind last night when you asked me to send you a very improper picture of my lower half fresh out of the shower,” and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips, but your expression grows more serious.

“So it’s all about quid pro quo, Professor?” you sigh exaggeratedly, before pulling the shirt off, “I’ll take it off, but how about if you let me keep it, I’ll give you something else?”

God, you know that look in his eye, and you just wished he could do what he wanted — his fingers would find your waist and your back, pulling you quick and eager into his lap — his hard-on pressing through the thin material of his sweatpants he wore around the apartment.

“And what would that be?” And the shirt finally up and over, a soft gasp leaving his lips at the sight of your bare body, only your shorts left on. You smile.

“Me, of course,” and he’s adjusting his phone, face up, a small groan leaving his lips, “sir?”

“Is that all you’re offering, sweetheart?” and you hear the slight shuffle of fabric, “because that shirt is quite special to me,”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugs at your lips as you see him come back into focus with his phone in hand, his eyes drifting from your eyes to your chest and back, “Is it?”

“If you remove your clothes, I’ll forgive this small transgression,” and his other hand is out of sight, no doubt stroking himself, though you were no better, fingers toying with your cunt through your drenched panties.

“I think that price might be too high, Professor— you might have to give me something in return,” you smile, toying with the elastic of your shorts, and he bites his lip, gaze heavy even through the screen of your phone.

“And what do you want, princess?”

“I thought it was obvious,” as you slip off your shorts, propping up your phone on the pillow designated usually for him, nothing else underneath, “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he’s hissing, as you can hear the distinct sound of the squelch of his hand running up and down his cock, “sweetheart, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

And your fingers are teasing your wet folds, imagining it was his own, his thick fingers sinking into one by one, he’d fill you so much better than you do — “show me, Suguru,” He does, flipping the camera to show his erection — flushed red and pretty — beads of pre-cum dripping from the tip, “all this just for me?” And your fingers push past your entrance, a gasp leaving your lips, “my fingers aren’t enough for me, Sugu—“

“show me now, let me tell you how to fuck yourself,” and you’re nodding, hand shaking as you flip the camera around to show your fingers notched inside, gleaming with your pre, dripping down your knuckles, “move,” and you do, slowly at first, and his hand moves too, starting to fuck his fist, “faster, curl your fingers just like I would,” and you do, a whine leaving your lips, “good girl,” he grunts.

The sounds of both of your pants and moans fill your ears, your eyes fluttering open to watch him touch himself, “Tease the tip for me, baby,” you murmur, fucking yourself deeper, when you see him thumb his slit, “wish I could taste you, suck you off, until you’re cumming down my—“

“Princess—“ you know he’s close by the way his dick twitches in his fingers and the way his lips moan your name, “add another finger,” and you do — fuck, the stretch is nothing like his cock, but you can almost imagine it is, “I’m sure you’ve gotten tight without me to fuck you — have you been touching yourself when I’m not around?” You bite your lip, your hesitation was all the answer he needed, “what do you think about?”

“Think about you,” you’re fucking close too, your fingers drenched in your own precum, “think about you coming back, about you kissing me at the door before pinning me against it,” And he’s groaning, the sounds of his hand pumping his cock ringing in your ears, you can’t hang on— “Suguru—please—“

“Be a good girl, and cum for me, sweetheart,” and you do, your toes curling and eyes squeezing shut as you do, phone slipping from your fingers, as you hear him groan too, the distinct sound of his cum splattering against his sheets.

You both come down from your highs, pulling your fingers from your cunt, grabbing tissues from your bedside table to wipe off your hands.

“Sugu?” You pick up your phone, and your boyfriend does the same, his cheeks flushed a gorgeous red, slightly more rumpled than before. And you can’t help but wish you could lean over and kiss him as you would, running your fingers through his hair, “I miss you,”

He sighs, gaze filled with affection and longing, “I miss you too, so much — you have no idea, princess,” as you tug his shirt back on, and you lie back, turning on your side, “just one more week,”

“I’m counting the days,” you murmur

“I’m counting the seconds,” and you snort, his lips curled in the damned smile that dragged you into his mess.

“Always have to one up me don’t you?” you bury your nose in the fabric of the shirt, the scent still very distinctly him.

“It is my job after all,” and you smile, “I love you,”

“I love you too,” but you know where this is going — as it always did almost every weekday night.

“I should hang up — I have to clean up and—“

“Review for meetings before bed, I know,” you finish and he raises an eyebrow, “very predictable, Professor Geto,”

“I’ll work on that — watch, I’ll surprise you,” and you chuckle, but you can’t help but frown, “what is it?” and you shake your head, “sweetheart,” and you know he won’t let it go.

“Just call me after you’re done, before bed, okay?” you sit up, glancing at your shorts on the floor, shifting uncomfortably with the wetness between your thighs, “I have to change my shorts and my sheets,”

“You’re welcome,” and you roll your eyes, his lips curled in a small smile reserved just for you, “love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” the call ends, and you’re left looking at your lock screen, a sigh caught in your throat.

Just one more week.

~~~

You stood before the door of one of the university's conference rooms — on one of the floors you did not tend to frequent. You spent most of your time in the classrooms if not the library — but you had attended a few meetings up here for one reason or another. But this was the first time you were walking into a room in quite a long time that you didn’t know anyone.

The student government met once before the semester started — a getting to know you forum for new members, such as yourself. There was no real formal election process for your position as senator — as long as other students were not vying for the position. And luckily for you, no other philosophy graduate student had chosen to volunteer for this entirely optional and unpaid position — a mystery really.

But the nerves still remained — though there was nothing more to do than enter. So you did — opening the door and finding the room filled with quite a few faces, but none of them familiar. You took a seat in a relatively empty section, but adjacent to enough faces, an empty seat on either side of you. The people around you chatted, while you pulled a notebook and pen out — your phone face down on the table, before you grab it and shoot Suguru a quick text.

You: in my first student government meeting! wish me luck!!

The meeting started without much formalities — a simple round table introduction that had you close to going last, but you had a chance to learn more about the other graduate students — most of them were students representing different departments, as you were, while there was also the traditional roles of president, vice president, secretary, and treasurer.

Eyes slid to you now, the president gesturing to you, her name escaping you, “And our newest member,”

They finally turned to you as you waved to the group, introducing yourself by name, “I’m a graduate student in the philosophy department, I’m a third year in the program, and I heard about the group from my department head—”

“Professor Geto?” one of the girls piped up, a literature graduate student who you didn’t recognize, but you were sure had taken Suguru’s class or at least had heard about him.

You shook your head, forcing a polite smile on your lips, “Professor Yaga actually told me about it,” she nods, and the president claps her hands together.

“Alright, this meeting is just to mingle and get to know each other, so please enjoy the refreshments and food provided,” and her eyes flicker down, “I think we’re only missing one person from the group—”

And the door bursts open, “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to run late—” a student with dark black hair that rested past his chin, bangs that framed his face on either side, and a small smile on his lips.

“Students keep you again, Yuta?” the president asks, and the dark haired boy known as Yuta slipped into the room, and took a seat beside you, sighing with a nod, as he set down his things, “good timing, you can help our newest member get acclimated,”

His eyes flicker to you, a smile pulling at his lips, “I’d be happy to,” and the group begins to get up to grab food and refreshments, as Yuta offers you his hand, “I’m Yuta Okkotsu, it’s nice to meet you.”

~~~~

“I hope you stay a part of the organization,” your eyes snap up at Yuta’s words — a curious look on his face, “you just seemed a little overwhelmed in there,” he tilts his head, as the two of you walk towards the metro station, “I may be wrong, but—”

“No I was,” for someone who looked so…innocent, he was really observant — his dark eyes felt like they could pierce right through you — even if he wouldn’t let them do so, “it was a lot — I’ve never been a part of a formal structure like this so it was just a lot—”

“It’s not as formal as you think — the proceedings do drag on but Maki, the president, tends to skip the formalities for the most part — she’s as bored of them as you are,” he chuckles, his fingers adjusting the strap of his backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, “usually the meetings don’t take very long — the events mostly take up our time when it comes to planning and organizing, but we hold a couple in conjunction with other organizations so that helps take the load off,” he explains, “we also organize issues important to the students to present to the president of the university quarterly, so we tend to have more meetings around that time, but we schedule the meetings after midterms, and after finals, so it doesn’t interfere with studying,” and then he catches himself, rubbing the back of his neck, “sorry, I’m going on and on, I should have just asked you if you had questions instead,”

“No, it was really helpful, Yuta,” you smile, “you’re very thorough,” and you don’t notice how a faint flush appears across his cheeks.

“I was new last year to the organization, and I remember being really overwhelmed — the professor I usually T.A. for roped me into it, he’s been away on research for the last year or so, but I stayed apart of it, because,” he shrugged, a smile on his lips, “I made some really good friends, and I hope you do too,”

You pull out your phone, no reply from Suguru, a small sigh on your lips — it’s fine, he’s busy, “Good friends are exactly what I need right now I think,” you check the time — Suguru wouldn’t be out of meetings for dinner at this rate, “do you want to grab dinner? I know a good ramen spot not far from here,”

“Sounds great,” and you led the way, not noticing the way Yuta’s eyes lingered on you a second too long, before he started to follow you, keeping pace beside you.

A week would pass by quick.

~~~

“What time will you be here?” Suguru asked, as you had him on your laptop this time on video call to watch you pack for the couple days you were spending with him before the semester started.

“I’m taking the 8:00 AM train, so I’ll get there probably by 10:15, so like two hours,” you weren’t sure how much to pack — you didn’t want to do a ton of laundry right before classes started, but you weren’t sure what you wanted to wear, “can you come here pack for me and go back?”

He snorts, “I’ll be right over, but at that point, wouldn’t it be more conducive for me to just stay with you?”

“But I want to come see you,” you pout, and he shrugs, as his eyes flicker up from his work.

“Then you’re going have to pack,” and you give a heavy sigh, continuing to choose what clothes to take. Your phone goes off and it’s a text from Yuta;

Yuta: hey! are you free next week to get dinner after the meeting? But this time I’m choosing the restaurant :)

You pick up your phone and text back: if it’s that chapati place you mentioned, I’m down — otherwise, you’ll have to deal with my severe disappointment

Yuta: I’ll have to leave you in suspense then

You snort, tossing your phone down, as your eyes go back to the screen to find Suguru smiling at you, “What?”

“Just enjoying the view,” and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” you mumble, rolling up a shirt in a hurry in a manner that definitely doesn’t qualify as folding, “what view? Me in an oversized t-shirt and shorts?”

“Exactly, with that pretty smile on your lips? Best thing on anytime,” he replies, and you bite back that same smile he complimented — but it’s the one reserved for him.

“You dork,” you mutter, “don’t say cute things or I’ll take the last train tonight to see you sooner,”

“I’d never make you do that so I’ll stop, for now,” he sighs, resting his cheek on his palm, his gaze growing a little more heady, “but tomorrow? I’ll be sure to tell you every single thing I love about you,”

And your lips curl, as you sigh, “I love you, but you should get some rest and I should finish packing and do the same,”

He gives a small smile, “Yes, ma’am, I’ll see you tomorrow, pretty girl,”

“I’ll be the one running into your arms,”

“Undoubtedly very late,”

“What was that? The sound of me missing my train tomorrow?” And he laughs, as you cross your arms, head held far too high, “that’s right. I’m holding myself hostage,”

“Well if you’re both hostage and hostage negotiator, tell both of you that I’ll bring you your favorite drink and buy you the breakfast of your choice,” and you peek at him, “coming around?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, you better have the ransom ready,” you let a smile escape your lips, “I love you,”

“I love you too, I’ll see you tomorrow,” and he hangs up after, and you sigh — tomorrow, finally.

You’ll see him again — you just hoped these few days didn’t pass by quickly.

~~~

Suguru waited at the station for you, your preferred hot beverage in hand, along with your requested pastry, both in hand as he waited. He opted to have his hair up in a bun due to the weather, a slight wind that carried the warning of fall in the crisp air that morning. But not whenever a snowstorm could have kept him from you that morning — it had been far too many days and nights spent without you by his side while spending them instead in stuffy rooms filled with colleagues and donors.

But now — and he sees people pour from the platform, a throng of harried travelers looking to get to their next destination, and among them all, he spots you — with the red suitcase you insisted made it easier to find amongst the others (it didn’t).

And he’s approaching you, slipping past others, and your eyes find his, your lips in a grin at the sight of him, as you find your way into his arms in a moment — suitcase clattering to the floor probably to the other travelers’ dismay. But he grabbed the handle and turned it upright in a moment, before his arm curled back around you.

“Hi,” you whisper, and he could have stood there forever — it had felt like forever since he had held you. His palm cupped your cheek, a thumb brushing back and forth against the length of it.

“You always know how to make an entrance sweetheart,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours, as your fingers intertwine slowly but surely — as if they hadn’t parted, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way,”

“Uh-huh, don’t act like I forgot about the ransom I’m owed,” and he’s rolling his eyes, as he takes your luggage, wrapping an arm around you, “where is it?”

“In the car, how about we stop by my apartment, drop off your things, rest for a bit and then we can grab breakfast, as promised?” You smile, leaning into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“As long as it’s with you.”

~~~

“You made breakfast for me?” you gasp, as he had set the table with all the breakfast staples — “i thought we were going to ‘grab breakfast?’”

Suguru wipes his hands, as he brings over two pairs of clean chopsticks and sits beside you, “Well I thought you might be tired from the train ride so I thought we could have breakfast in and relax before going out before lunch,”

You take the chopsticks from him, fingers brushing as you do, leaning into his side, “It’s not fair being this perfect,” you murmur, your head against his shoulder, nose brushing against the soft fabric of his t-shirt and his skin, “when are you going to show me your flaws?”

“I think I’ve shown plenty of those the last few months with how things have went before we even began dating,” his lips brush against your forehead, “now I just want to treasure you — as much as I can,”

“Me too,” you lean up and meet his lips in a soft kiss that steals the logic from your head and the air from your lungs — and only leaves his touch behind, “Suguru…” and you want to admit to him how hard it’s been without him, how much harder it's been than what you expected — and how you worried about how hard would it get during the semester, when you both were busy? “I really missed you,” you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and you speak before he can get even a syllable out, “but I’m so glad we’re together now,”

He didn’t need to know — he would only feel bad. You could handle it—

“Me too,” his gaze is soft, as he pulls back to find your lips in another achingly gentle kiss.

For him.

~~~~

“This weekend is supposed to be for you, why are you shopping for me?” Suguru says yet again as you peruse another homegoods store, looking for something to decorate what you claimed were the “barren landscape” of his apartment, “we should do something you want to,”

“This is something I want to do,” as you inspect a globe with the same scrutiny you’d apply to a Aristotelian text — brow furrowed in thought as if this knick knack would give you some unintelligible insight on metaphysics (it did not), “you’re going to be living there for a while, I want you to have an apartment that doesn’t look like a serial killer resides there,”

“Why does it look like that?”

“Because it doesn’t look lived in,” you pick up a set of matching bookends, “these things make your house look lived in and feel welcoming,” and then you put the bookends down thoughtfully, “although we should start with more basic things, like frames and a full length mirror,”

“Well if I look like a serial killer, you don’t have to worry about anyone who comes over, because they will think I’m a murderer and feel very unwelcome,” and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with him, “I don’t care about other people — I care about you, so will this make you happy?”

You nod, “Because I want you to feel happy here, and that will make me happy,”

And he wants to say the only thing that would make him really happy would be if you lived here with him — to wake up beside you each morning, to come home to you each evening, and fall asleep beside you — but he couldn’t say that. It would almost be cruel to say something that wasn’t possible right now. But it would be — it would be possible.

“Okay, let’s find some things,” his arm curls around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “but remember, you do love this serial killer,”

“That’s only because I’m far too wonderful to murder,” and he rolls his eyes, as the two of you continue to shop, and he watches you continue to pick up and examine things — and he can’t help but wonder if this is what it would be like when you both shop for your place together. And he bites back a smile.

Only a few more months — and you could be together. It wasn’t forever.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

~~~~

“You said no work while I was here,” you were doing your best pout if only to change his mind, but he was unrelenting, his shoulders slumped in resignation, and his lips in a purse at his desk in his bedroom, “Suguruuuuu,” you’re officially whining, and you know it’s not his fault, but you have such little time with him, you don’t want a minute to be wasted.

“I know, sweetheart, but Yaga wants to speak about the semester starting, and I didn’t have much of a choice—” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck, lips pressing kisses to the hollow of his throat, “princess—” he groans.

“I want to get in my cuddles before,” and your teeth graze the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he sucks in air between his teeth, “how long is your meeting?”

“About half an hour,” and you hum, kissing his lips, languid and slow, your fingers threading his lengthy tresses, “it’s about to start—” and you’re kneeling down in front of his chair, as the video call starts to go off, as you look up at him between his knees, “sweetheart—” he’s hissing, wide eyes, as you undo his belt and the zipper of his pants.

“Then let’s not waste any time,” you grin, toying with the waistband of his boxers, “pick up the call.”

And you thought he would kick you out from underneath, nudging you away, and you would relent if he really didn’t want this — but he doesn’t. He swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing as he picks up the call, placing his earbuds in his ear.

“Hi Professor Yaga,” Suguru says, and you’re almost surprised how normal he sounds with you between his legs, but Yaga can’t see the way his muscles tense when your fingers spring his already half hard cock free, “Yes, we do have a couple things to cover. No, I don’t mind starting,”

Well if he insists, you’d start too.

Your fingers slowly stroke him to fully erect, pre-cum dripping over your fingers as you do, your eyes flickering up to see his expression still perfectly normally, the only telltale sign being the way his fingers white knuckled the armrest just out of sight. His cock was so unfairly pretty — a deep red at the tip with a slight curve that had your thighs pressing together at the thought of it sinking into you. Your lips press a kiss to the tip and he wavers mid sentence, as you smirk against his cock, as your mouth parts to suck him off.

And it seems like Yaga is the one speaking now, as he seemingly mutes himself, resting his chin against his hand, covering his mouth with his fingers, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he swears under his breath, as your tongue traces along one of his veins, sucking at the tip, as your fingers drift to toy with his balls.

The tip of your tongue flicks against his weeping slit, bobbing your head along the length, as a hand of his drifts down to thread in your locks, nails digging into your scalp.

“S-sorry, what was that?” he seemingly unmuted himself at a question, and you’re sucking even harder, nose brushing against his pubes as his tip brushes against your throat, “N-no, I’m fine, sorry, I’m not feeling well,”

You suck one more time, and he’s gone, as he barely can mutes himself and turns off his camera, groaning, as he spills down your throat, as you swallow it, his head thrown back against the headrest of his chair. And he’s panting, as he looks down at you, half lidded and lost in pleasure, gaze darkening as he watches you pull away, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his softening cock, as you adjust his boxers and clothes.

“What happened to Yaga?” and his glance tells you he certainly does not care — chest heaving, as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Disconnected after I went silent — I’ll tell him my internet went out,” and you’re slowly rising out from between his legs, and his fingers find your waist, tugging you close, “you really are a bad influence,” and his lips find yours, your fingers cupping his cheek.

“I told you I didn’t want to waste time,” you grin, and in one smooth motion, he’s dragging you into his bed, giggling leaving your lips as he showers you with kisses, “Suguru!” you yelp as you fall backwards into his plush bed, and he’s tugging off your shorts and panties with ease, folding your legs up, one of them brushing against his shoulder, as he kisses your inner thigh, a smile against your heated skin.

“My turn.”

~~~~

“How did this week go so quickly?” you sigh, burying your face in his chest on Friday night, knowing you have to get on a train tomorrow morning, “it’s not fair, it’s not enough time,” you murmur, tracing circles on his skin, “and now I don’t get to see you for a month,”

“I know, I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “but it will pass by quick — you’ll be busy with classes and I’ll be busy with work — it won’t be as bad as we think,” And you don’t want to admit your fears to him — it would make it all too real, as if they would emerge from the syllables your lips spoke into a new reality before you — and you couldn’t take that risk, no matter how illogical it was.

“I know, I just can’t imagine spending this much time apart,” you glance at him, “don’t know what I did without you before, I don’t even remember what I spent my time doing,”

“Revising the essays I made you write?” and you pinch his cheek, and he’s laughing, “sorry, couldn’t resist making that joke,”

“Yeah, I recall you couldn’t resist me either,” and his fingers drag lazily over your cheek, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear.

“Well, who really could resist you?” he sighs, content seemingly in just the act of touching you, “I tried and failed — and I am a master at resisting temptation,”

“A paragon of morality truly,” and he snorts, as you kiss his neck sweetly, ghosting over the places you had left marks, “though there was definitely nothing moral about what we just did,”

Your lips find his again, a lazy kiss that grows slowly with more heat the more your lips meet again and again and again — until he’s parting, “It’s just a month,” he says as if he can sense your anxiety, “I’ll come see you, I promise,”

“So if you don’t come, I can summon Immanuel Kant to scold you for not fulfilling your promise?” and he laughs.

“A scolding from you would be far more effective, but Kant is able to come if he can make it — death’s a worse commute than to Tokyo,”

“Who says?” you mumble, pressing your forehead to his, “you’ll take me to the station?”

“Of course,” and you have only one request.

“Don’t come inside ok?” his brow furrows, but you softly smooth it with the back of your knuckles, “Otherwise, I’ll end up crying — and I rather not subject you or the passengers near me to that,” and he chuckles, a frown still on his lips.

“Are you sure?”

It wasn’t just the crying — you knew if he walked you to your train, you’d want to make him come with you or let yourself stay — and you couldn’t do that, not to either of you. This was temporary — it wouldn’t be forever—

“I’m sure.” you kiss his lips again, rolling over so you were on top, your bodies brushing against each other with the familiar heat you’d miss when you were back home again.

—so why did it feel like forever?

~~~

“You promised me a better meal and this place nearly burned my taste buds off,” you grumble, as the two of you stand outside the restaurant, rain pounding against the awning as it starts to come down, the spicy food from the chapati place doing little to keep you warm now against the frigid wind of the autumn carrying the promise of being drenched with it.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Yuta chuckles, holding a hand out for the rain, “now at least the spice will help on the way home,”

“The only good thing about this place is that it's close to my apartment. I have a ton of work to do already — and it’s only the first week of classes,” you sigh, pulling out your umbrella, and glancing at him, hands still empty and unmoving. You hold up your umbrella, waving it, “Did you not bring one?” as you pull out your phone to check the weather reports.

“I didn’t know there was rain in the report for today,” he sighs, waving you off, “go ahead, I’ll wait for it to let up or find a convenience store nearby— I just need to make it back to the station—”

“Trains are down because of the storm,” you raise an eyebrow, as you glance at him, “come on, you can stay at my place,”

He’s shaking his head, holding his hands up, “No, I don’t want to—”

You tilt your head, glancing around at the clearing street and the distant rumble of thunder, “So are you going to camp out here outside this restaurant for the night or?” and he’s chewing his lip, as you chuckle, “it’s not far, we can share the umbrella, and hopefully we won’t get completely soaked,”

“Well, we’re not completely soaked,” you close the door behind you both, dripping water onto your floor, as you sigh, “hold on I’ll grab towels,” and you do, coming back quickly so you both can dry off.

And you notice the damage done to his clothes are far worse than yours, completely soaked through, the towel doing little to help aside from stopping the water from forming a larger puddle near your entryway.

“You held the umbrella mostly to my side, didn’t you?” And he pauses, his hesitation the answer you needed, as you sigh — “you’re more of a martyr than you need to be,”

“Well, I want to help my friends,” he gives a small smile.

“Even at the detriment of yourself?” And he shrugs.

“I can handle it,” and you shake your head, as you head to your closet pull out a fresh towel and clothes — but not your own.

“Go change,” and he glances at the clothes, hesitates, but takes them, as he frowns, “it’s fine, Yuta, go shower and change,” you show him where the bathroom is, and how to turn on the water.

You head to your bedroom to change and dry off, grabbing a fresh t-shirt and shorts — chewing on your lips — you had to give Yuta some of Suguru’s clothes you had stolen — your clothes wouldn’t exactly fit him properly. But you pouted, now you couldn’t sleep in Suguru’s shirt tonight, and you sighed, it was just as well — you had to wash the shirt so now it didn’t smell like him now.

You come out into the living room, hopping onto your couch and flipping on the TV, looking for something to watch. And then you hear the bathroom door, glancing behind you, “Done?”

“Yeah, thank you again for this,” he shifts in place, steam escaping from the bathroom behind him, his bangs still a little damp and cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink along his cheekbones, “what are you doing?”

“Just looking for something to watch,” and he comes over, sitting on the other side of the couch, “do you have any preference?”

He shakes his head, “No, not really,” and you choose a random movie to put on, a cheesy rom-com that had just come out on a streaming service, “is that what you like to watch?”

You shrug, running your fingers through your hair, “I like watching bad movies — it’s something I do usually while I do my work — the genius is, I don’t have to pay attention to follow the storyline,” and your eyes still on the TV, you don’t notice how his eyes linger on your face, a smile pulling on his lips, “now look at this, it’s the classic ‘guy likes girl, but girl is too dense to notice,” you shake your head, “does that even happen in real life?”

And Yuta parts his lips to reply when your phone rings, and you grab your phone — a video call — Suguru’s name flashing on your screen, and you can’t bite back the smile on your lips, “Hold on, I have to take this — just make yourself comfortable, I’ll be in the bedroom,”

You head into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you, as you pick up the call, “Hey stranger,” you smile as his face comes into view, glasses perched on his nose, as he grins back at you, “I miss you,”

“I miss you too,” he rests his face against his hand, “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk much — there have been a lot of issues popping up because its the first week — a lot of department requests from professors and students alike,”

“Mr. Bigshot Department Head has forgotten about his girlfriend, huh?” you mock pout, and he shakes his head, a longing gaze that makes your breath stutter in your chest.

“I could never forget you — how can I when all I dream about is you?” and you bite your lip, cheeks burning, “did I make you smile?”

“Shut up,” and he laughs, and then you hear a noise from the living room, a clatter that catches your attention.

“What was that?”

You wave him off, “It was just my friend, he’s staying over because of the rain — he’s in the living room,”

And he pauses for a moment, expression unreadable, “Which friend?”

“His name is Yuta — I met him during my first student government meeting — he’s kind of showing me the ropes,” and he nods, his silence palpable, gaze downwards and then it dawns on you, “Are you jealous?”

And his eyes flicker up, “Sweetheart—”

“Oh my god you are, that’s so cute,” you smile, as you delight in the slight dusting of pink that settles over his cheeks — he’s far too pretty for his own good, and your voice softens, “you have nothing to worry about, Suguru — I love you, no one else can even compete,”

He sighs, and you wish you could kiss him, “I know, I know — I’m just,” his brow furrows, his lips stuck in a frown, “I just miss you,”

“Then come over,” you tease, and he gives a small smile.

“You have company,” he reminds you, and you sigh, glancing at the door, “you should go back,”

“I’ll work on inventing an instant teleportation device,” a forced laugh leaves his lips, “Suguru, are you sure—”

He shakes his head, “I’m fine, really, just call me before bed if you have time okay?”

“Yeah of course, I love you,” a genuine smile gracing his lips.

“I love you too,” and you hang up, heading back out to find Yuta watching TV, “sorry about that,”

“It’s fine, is everything okay?” he glances at you, tilting his head, “nothing wrong?”

You shake your head, sitting down beside him, grabbing a cushion to place in your arms, “It was just my boyfriend — he usually calls me around this time,”

Yuta gives a slight nod, “Oh, is he away this weekend?”

“No, we’re long distance — he lives in Kyoto,” you explain, sighing, leaning back on the couch, “that’s why I took the call, otherwise, I would have called whoever back,”

“You don’t have to do that — you should be allowed to do whatever you need to. It’s your home,” and you smile, shaking your head before you toss the pillow at him, “w-what?”

“You’re important too, Yuta — you’re my friend and a guest — I’m not going to just leave you out here by yourself without saying anything,” you hold your hand out, “can I have the remote?” And he passes it to you, fingers brushing, as you flip through more movies and TV, “are you tired at all?”

His gaze stays straight ahead, as he shakes his head, “No, not yet,” and you’re choosing a movie to watch, his fingers clasped over each other — the warmth of your touch still lingering.

And you had no idea that his heart was aching at the thought of you being taken — much like the very someone who had taken you.

~~~

“I understand, Suguru, really I do,” and you did — you always did — but this time, it was a little hard to swallow.

It had been weeks since the two of you had seen each other, not over a screen. It was already a month and half into the new semester — and each time he was supposed to visit you, something or another came up — a faculty event, a staff meeting, grading to do, and god knows what else.

And you could bear it the other times — it wasn’t his fault. He had work to do. He had things he had to take care of with little choice in the matter. And you couldn’t always come to Kyoto either — not with your program in full gear and events for the student government around the corner.

No it wasn’t his fault — but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt — especially with what he was missing.

“I really tried to get time off — and I probably still can make it, but I might run late—“ Suguru’s sighing on the phone, and you know his brow is knit together — mind desperately trying to grasp at a solution, as if he thought hard enough one would emerge that he hadn’t considered.

Your footsteps pause, as you bite back your own sigh, trying to keep your tone light. “It’s okay, really — we can celebrate my birthday the next time—“

“It’s not okay, sweetheart,” he cuts you off, “I’m really going to try to make it. I’ll get my work done, or put it off—“

“I don’t want you jeopardizing work—“

“I’ll be fine, Princess — I want to be with you,” he says so softly that your refusals all but melt, “really, I do,”

You bite your lip, as you continue to make your way, weaving between the students herding towards their next classes, “Okay I just don’t want you stressing out or worrying—“

“I’ll be fine, just, make any plans you want to, okay? I don’t know what time I’ll get there on Saturday, but I’ll be there, okay?”

“You really don’t—“ you’re outside the room for your meeting, leaning against the wall.

“Sweetheart,” he warns, and your lips curl, fully submitting to his whims.

“You really don’t — know what time you’re getting here?” You nailed that — apparently not by his chuckle over the line, as you hear the tapping of his laptop as he checks train times.

He pauses, a rustling of papers, and a sigh, “I’m not sure, but once I’m on my way, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Okay, that’s fine,” you give a half hearted smile despite the fact no one would see it, “I’m outside my student government meeting, but I’ll talk to you tonight?”

“Of course, good luck with your meeting, and I’ll call you around 8:00 PM?” And the two of you hang up and you’re left with disappointment hanging mid air — like a mystery waiting to be solved, wondering if you’ll be satisfied or saddened.

“What’s wrong?” your gaze snaps up to find Yuta, who offers a small smile, “are you disappointed that our meeting never starts on time? Because you should give up on that now,” you roll your eyes, as he holds the door open for you, and you step past him.

“It’s nothing,” you set your things down, sitting, as he takes his own seat beside you.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Yuta tilts his head, leaning on his arm, a hint of concern across his features in his slightly furrowed brow and pursed lips, “you don’t have to talk about it — but if you want to, I’m here,”

You lean back in your chair, “It’s just my boyfriend — he’s been really busy with work so we haven’t been able to see each other, and now…” your gaze fixes itself to the table in front of you, taking in the faint scratches on the laminate wood, a sigh caught in the back of your throat, “he’s not sure if he’ll make it this weekend for my birthday, he said he would try his best,” and you shake your head, “and I know it’s a little…childish, but—”

“It’s not childish,” he gently cuts you off, “it’s understandable to want to spend your birthday with the person you love,” he leans forward to meet your eyes, “how about this? We can hang out on your birthday until your boyfriend comes down, because I’m sure he will,”

“How do you know?” and other people begin to file into the room, as he offers you a small smile.

“Who would ever keep you waiting?”

~~~~

“You don’t usually call at this time,” you yawn, rolling over in bed, as you hear Suguru rustle on the other end too — it was already late and you had already buried yourself under your comforter, scrolling on your phone before bed (even though you knew very well that you shouldn’t).

“Sorry did I wake you, sweetheart?” and you hum.

“What do I get if you did?” he laughs, his voice making your heart flutter in two seconds flat, “my sleep comes at a very high price, Professor,”

“Oh I know, I’ve paid that price several times, and you have willingly given it to me as well,” your lips curling, you knew he was lying on his back as he always did before bed, arm under his head as he looked up at his ceiling, “what’s the price this time?”

“Video call me,” and he does in an instant, his face popping up on your screen, lips quirked upwards at the sight of your face, glasses perched on his nose.

“Such an easy price this time,” and you yawn, turning over in bed onto your side, hiding your pout in your pillow — god, you wished he was beside you right now.

“The late hour’s making me soft,” you say, a strand of black falling in front of his face, and you only wish you could reach over and run your fingers through his silky strands, “did you need something?”

“I need someone,” and you snort.

“Well, you have me, congratulations,” you turn over onto your back, “now what do you plan to do with me?”

He smiles that same smile that had stolen your heart from the start, “Treasure you? Kiss you? Love you?” and your lips curl again, “apparently get a poodle and a dozen cats with you,”

“That’s a guarantee,” and he smiles.

“If it will make you happy, then yes it is,” you purse your lips, “what?”

“What’s gotten into you?” And his eyes seem to flicker elsewhere for a moment, “Suguru?”

His lips form a full smile, “Happy birthday, princess,” and you blink, glancing at the clock and realizing it was midnight now, “each and every day with you in my life has been the happiest I have ever been and ever hoped to be. I spent my life searching for the meaning of life — but I didn’t find it, until I met you,” his voice is soft as tears burn at the corner of your eyes, “I don’t know what it is that I’m owed — but I don’t know what I did to deserve you,”

“I love you,” you whisper, “I wish I could hold you,” your fingers caress the screen, as if your touch could teach through it, and he presses a kiss to his hand.

“I love you too — and I promise I’ll hold you soon,” he lays back on his bed, “you’ll be sick of me soon enough,”

“Never,” you settle onto your pillow, “will you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?”

He only smiles, “Anything for you.”

~~~

Anything but being able to be here by lunch or dinner at this rate. You checked your phone — only to find his last message — “I’m almost done. I’ll let you know when I leave for the station,”

But it had been over two hours and there had been no update — even after you had texted him twice to ask where he was. You were caught between worry and disappointment — anxiety pricking at your skin, enough to annoy but not enough to pierce through to full panic. And disappointment felt like a weight that hovered above your heart, close enough to feel, but not enough to hit yet.

You didn’t want to feel this. It wasn’t his fault. You knew that he was trying — and you didn’t resent him in the least for it. But that didn’t mean you wanted him here any less — especially after it had been almost two months without seeing each other.

And a knock at your door made your eyes snap over, as you tripped over yourself to get to the door, “Who is it?”

“It’s me—“ but it wasn’t Suguru — it was Yuta. And you opened the door, a small smile on your lips, as Yuta stood in a black sweater tucked into dark gray jeans, and a deep maroon jacket pulled over it, “happy birthday,”

“Oh, thanks—“ and you blink, “oh my god, we had plans I’m sorry — I forgot,” you groan, and he leans sideways to take a look at your apartment, spotting the blanket on your couch and a pillow.

“Did I interrupt your date with your couch?” you roll your eyes.

“You did actually, it was a good one too—“ he cuts you off with a look, “I don’t know if I really want to go out. I was thinking I’d just—“

“What? Sit here and become one with your couch?” he raises an eyebrow.

You pout, “Yuta, I don’t know. I think I rather stay home—“

And that’s what you had done all day — Suguru had checked in here and there — trying desperately to finish up work to make it for some part of your birthday but hadn’t checked in for two hours now. You were sure he was going to be on his way soon — but that didn’t make waiting any less depressing. Your phone even had sighed at you as you checked your messages for the millionth time to find no new ones — low battery life only taunting you in return.

“That’s what you’ve done all day — I’m sure your boyfriend would want you to go out and have fun—“ he crosses his arms in front of your doorway, “come on, we can just go watch a movie, no big deal — we can have some fun and kill a few hours, okay?”

And you stare at your phone again, before locking it — “let’s go,”

~~~~

Finally, Suguru sat down right as the train began to roll forward — he had barely made it. The meetings stacked up the day before had put far behind on his grading — he nearly couldn’t make it.

Not if he hadn’t stayed up until 3:00 AM.

He checked his phone — he should make it by 5:00 PM, which should leave plenty of time for dinner and he checked his bag for your gift — it was just what you wanted — a necklace you had pointed out to him, a dragon with multi-colored gems. He laid against the seat, his forehead leaning against the cool glass.

God, he missed you.

It had been too long. Since he had even seen your face not through his phone screen and heard your voice whisper in his ear not through his cellphone. But that’s all he saw and heard of you lately.

He didn’t know the department would be this much of a mess when he took over. The last department head was truly enjoying his retirement months before it began. It was enough he had his department head duties but to teach two classes on top of that was enough for work to pile up until it was untenable. And he was unavailable.

How many times had he fallen asleep on the phone with you? How many times had he canceled plans to come see you? How many times had he missed dates?

And how many more would there be?

He knew you said everything was fine, he knew you understood his circumstance, he knew it wouldn’t be forever — but still — he wrung his fingers in his lap — why did it feel like it already had been forever? Since he had seen you smile, seen you laugh, held your hand, kissed your lips — it felt as if you were disappearing from his grasp.

But he wouldn’t let it happen — he couldn’t.

~~~

“Please turn your cellphone off and place it in these bags before entering the movie,” the ticket attendant told you and Yuta as he handed you both your tickets for something called, Human Earthworm 4, handing you both phone pouches.

You knit your brow together, “But—”

“This is an early screening of the movie, so the staff has been told that all persons seeing this movie today must lock their phones in these pouches before entering the theater,” the attendant explains, gesturing to the cardboard cutout of the movie with a sign that said ‘early screening’ in bold letters, “otherwise you could exchange your tickets for a different movie,” you purse your lips — you had been looking forward to seeing this movie, especially early. And Yuta had even bought the tickets ahead of time after hearing you talk about it at one of the student government meetings.

Yuta’s eyes slide to you, “We can see another—”

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, giving a small smile, “Let me just send a quick text,” you step away for a moment, texting Suguru — I’m going into a movie, I have to turn off my phone. Let me know when you’re on the train.

You lock your phone with a sigh, placing it in the bag — either way, he hadn’t texted, so you were sure he wasn’t on the train yet. And you weren’t sure if he would even make it. It was fine — you glanced at Yuta, walking over to the movie theater — it really was.

Because it wouldn’t be forever.

~~~~

The screech of the train jerks Suguru awake, his eyes burning, as he glances out the window — the sun beginning to give up the sky already, starting its descent. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he checks the time — fuck, it had been an hour already. He leans back, glancing through his notifications and he sees a text from you.

Fuck, he had forgotten to respond to your messages earlier. He was a mess trying to get to the station, a flurry of papers, caffeine, and adrenaline — and he had spotted your messages before he left the office, only to make a mental note to reply once he was on the train. Where that note had been left in the recesses of his mind he could only guess.

He types: I’m so sorry, sweetheart — in my rush to get here, I didn’t let you know — I’m on the train already—

And then he pauses, he could surprise you — at your apartment. You’d be home after about an hour it seemed by the time he got to your place — it was perfect. He could pick up your cake (the one he had pre-ordered) and set everything up just in time — and then he could take you out for the dinner he had promised you.

He deletes the text, rewriting it — I’m so sorry sweetheart. I just finished work. I should be there by 7:00 PM. I love you. I’ll see you soon, birthday girl.

He sends the message, a smile on his lips — maybe there was something special he could do today, as he watches the train continue on its way.

He only hoped it would work out in his favor.

~~~

“It was perfect — the metaphor? Did you not see the metaphor?” Yuta nodding along to your rant as the two of you make it back to your apartment, “I know it seems like a dumb movie but if you read between the lines—” and you glance at Yuta, who continues to nod, and you stare, “you hated the movie, didn’t you?”

“No, no, I didn’t—” and then you raise an eyebrow, “it was really bad — have you seen good movies before?”

You laugh, shaking your head, “There’s no accounting for taste,”

“Clearly,” he replies, and you push him playfully, crossing your arms, as he grins back at you, “well, I’m glad you enjoyed it, that’s the important part,”

“And you got to bully me about my movie taste so that’s a lovely end to the evening,” he snorts, as the two of you make it outside your apartment door, “thanks for dragging me out — it was really nice,” you dig in your bag for your keys, “it was fun,”

“I’m glad I could help — I hope I made your day a little better,”

“You already do that by just being you, Yuta,” you pull your keys out, your phone slipping out with it — “shoot,” you kneel down and Yuta does too, fingers brushing as you pick it up — as your phone springs back to life, “shit, I guess i forgot to turn it back on,” as you rise, beginning to unlock your door as your texts start to come through — and you blink, right as you turn the knob, slowly reading the first message as you open the door only spotting Suguru’s back through the crack in the door.

Fuck. And you quickly shut the door.

“You okay?” Your eyes flicker up, forcing a small smile, as Yuta tilts his head.

“Yeah, sorry — my boyfriend is inside I think,” your mind in a dizzying panic, “I should go talk to him, alone,” you shift from foot to foot, looking incredibly awkward — but it seems to work, as Yuta nods.

“Right, of course, I”ll go,” he bites his lip, “let me know if you need anything ok?” And he’s gone, as you turn back around, taking a beat, before you open the door.

“Surprise?” you say, and Suguru is holding a cake with lit candles, lights dimmed, a small smile on his lips.

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” he frowns at the expression on your face, “what’s—” and you shake your head, walking over.

“We’ll talk about that later,” you stand in front of him and your cake, “All I want to focus on is you and my cake,” and your lips curl, “and I believe I’m owed a song?”

“Happy birthday to you,” he sings softly, jawline illuminated by the low light of the candle, “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, my dear sweetheart,” and you bite back a grin, “Happy birthday to you,” he holds the cake up a little higher, “make a wish,”

You hum, “I don’t know what to wish for,” you blow out your candles, before taking the cake from his hands and placing it down before slipping into his arms, “I have everything I want right here.”

~~~

Suguru had almost gotten it right. Almost.

“Yuta almost saw you earlier,” you admit, “he didn’t, I realized before and made an excuse but,” you sigh, as the two of you sit on the couch, your fork toying with your slice of cake, “it was close,”

Close. Close to revealing your relationship. Lose to jeopardizing your future. Close to ruining your friendship. It was far too close — or was he far too close to you?

His brow knit together, “I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have let myself in and I should have texted earlier—“

“It’s not your fault, Suguru, it’s fine,” you offer a smile, “I don’t even mind if Yuta knows — he’s a good friend,”

“But still—“ you drag a finger through frosting and place a dollop on his nose, “sweetheart—“

“Let’s not focus on that right now. This is the first time I got to see you in weeks,” you lean over and lick the frosting from the tip of his nose, a warmth spreading across his face from your touch, “I want to enjoy the rest of my birthday with my boyfriend, okay?”

But he still couldn’t bring himself to pull away — not now.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips — it had been far too long since he had felt the soft press of your lips against his own. He could taste the frosting, the sickly sweetness didn’t begin to compare to your taste, and how much he had ached for it.

But it also didn’t stop him from dragging a finger dipped in frosting across your cheek.

“Suguru!” You gape at him, looking utterly too adorable with your pout and the frosting across your cheek, “on my birthday too?”

“Well, you’re so sweet, I wanted to see if it was possible for you to be even sweeter,” and he leans over licking the frosting from your cheek, “looks like it’s not possible—“ and you swallow his sentence with a kiss, as your plate and fork clatter as you set it down on your coffee table, climbing into his lap, your knees on either side, “our reservation — we’ll be late,” even so his hands drag down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“I think I want dessert first,” you murmur, before finding his lips in a kiss again.

It’s hours later, and you’re fast asleep beside him, your face buried against the crook of his neck, as Suguru runs his fingers through your hair. But he can’t sleep. Not when he keeps thinking about what you said.

You didn’t deserve this. To spend days waiting for your boyfriend to be free, to spend your time wondering when he would be able to call you, to spend your time stressed out at the idea of getting caught. A relationship should be easier, it should be fun — but you haven’t had either since he had to move.

His fingers brushes against the curve of your cheek and then tracing the chain of the necklace, thumbing the dragon charm. He loves you — he loves you, but was it enough when you deserved so much more? How many more things would he miss because of work? How many more things would you hide because you didn’t want him to feel guilty? How many more times would he let you?

He had felt you slipping from his fingers these last few weeks — he presses a kiss to your forehead — but he had never considered whether he should let you go.

Until now.

~~~

Can we call tonight? I miss you.

Suguru glances at his phone, students already filed in and sitting, the quiet chatter before class began. It had been like this for a week. He locked his phone, tucking it away in his pockets.

“If you all will sit and settle down, we’ll begin today’s lecture,” he says to the class, “we’re going to continue our discussion from last class on Scanlon — we’ll start with any questions left from our conversation,”

Several hands fly up, and he chooses one to speak, “I had a question,”

He blinks, spotting you amongst his students, “What are you—“

“Professor, you haven’t let me ask my question,” you pout, as you lean against the desk, arms crossed, “I need to understand the material to pass, don’t I?”

All replies get stuck in his throat — as words fail him, as they always did with you. He’s only able to nod. And you smile, lips curling wide.

“Scanlon posits the question “what do we owe to each other?’ But there is no one answer — we are meant to figure that on our own,” you lean back in your chair, “and I believe I’m owed at least a text back,”

The students’ quiet murmurings and piercing stares drawing heat up his neck, and you were the one who lit the match, flames licking at your heels.

“Sweetheart—“

“Do you get to call me that after how you’ve treated me?” you scoff, as you slide from your chair onto your feet, “no visit in weeks, barely any phone calls, and once we even got on the phone, you would fall asleep. Have you asked how I’ve been? How have I dealt with all of this? Do you even know how my semester is going?”

His mouth is a desert, and his words have all but deserted him — as he fumbles for any syllables he could grasp onto, but finds none. Because he has no excuses to be made.

You walk down the stairs of the lecture hall, as the slow steps you take ring in his ears, “do you know what I’m risking? My reputation, my career, my future — for what? For you? I know my answer to what I want in life. I know my answer is you — can you say the same?”

And the class is gone — and it’s only the two of you.

“I’d do anything for you, I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to. I—“ his voice breaks, and your hand finds his cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours.

“Except let me go, apparently.”

RING. RING. RING.

His eyes flutter open, a breath caught in his throat, as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before reaching blindly for his phone. He glanced at the screen now, turning off the alarm, spotting a text from you at the top.

Morning Sugu — I miss you <3, can we call tonight?

And he stares at your message before locking his screen and placing his phone down and turning around.

He needed to talk to you.

~~~~

“You’ve checked your phone like for the millionth and one time,” your eyes find Yuta’s as the two of you continue to put up flyers for the student government hosted dinner later in the week, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” and he stares at you, “what?” And then you sigh, “my boyfriend — it just feels like he’s been avoiding me, and I don’t know why,”

“Have you asked him why?” He holds a flier and tapes it a bulletin board outside, and you shake your head, “maybe you should try,”

“I want to, I just never get a chance to — he’s been so busy with work and I haven’t—“ and you sigh — it had been over a week since you and Suguru had even spoken on the phone, much less even video called, “I feel like something’s wrong — something is bothering him,” your voice falters, as you swallow your emotions, a sigh on your lips, “I don’t know,”

Yuta takes a pause, stealing a glance at you, before he turns to look, “You’ll only know if you ask — and the longer you wait, the harder it will be to be honest,” he glances away, “trust me,”

You crumple the flier in your hand, squeezing, “I’m just scared of the answer,” you admit. It had been so difficult to get to this point — tears roll down your cheeks — to see Suguru slip away because of this would be too much.

“I know,” Yuta says softly, as he gently places his hand on your shoulder, “but you still need it regardless,”

And then you hear a voice call your name, and you wipe your tears hurriedly as Yuta pulls his hand away, your gaze snapping over to see Professor Yaga and—

Suguru?

~~~

“Look who’s here for a meeting,” Yaga says, clapping a hand to Suguru’s shoulder, “did you hear that Professor Geto had become department head of the Kyoto sister university?”

And Suguru knew you very well had — but you hadn’t heard he’d come here for a meeting. To be fair, he didn’t know until this morning — but to be even more fair, he had plenty of time to tell you. But he didn’t — because he was hoping he wouldn’t see you, not like this.

“I did,” you force a smile, “it’s good to see you, Professor Geto, how have you been?”

You’re a natural at acting as if nothing is the matter — but he’s become a master at seeing right through it. He spotted the way your fingers wiped away your tears, your red rimmed eyes, and the plastered on smile that was nearly pulling into a frown. He resisted the urge to purse his lips — he had wondered for a split second what had made you cry? Until he saw the flicker of a glare in your gaze, and he knew he was the reason.

And it was yet another reason he needed to end this.

And this — Suguru’s eyes flicker between you and your friend — was the friend he assumed was Yuta, his brow knit in confusion, “I’ve been well — it’s good to see you, I hope the semester has gone well for you?”

You shrug, your expression unreadable, “Well enough, you know how the semester goes — it’s very busy around this time. Easy for things to slip through the cracks,” and he forces his gaze to not waver.

“Very true, it’s important to keep on top of things,”

“Especially the important things,” you give both him and Professor Yaga a stiff smile, “It’s good to see you both, but we have more flyers to hang up for the event coming up later this week,” you take Yuta’s hand, “if you’ll excuse us,” and the two of you disappear off around the corner.

“It was good to see her, wasn’t it?” Professor Yaga says, a smile on his lips, “she’s come a long way after your class — she was already an excellent student, but now, I see even brighter things on her horizon,” as he continues to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction, and Suguru spares a single glance over his shoulder, before pulling out his phone and texting you:

Can we talk later? I’ll let you know where.

“It was.”

~~~~

“Old habits die hard?” you sat on Suguru’s old desk as he walked in, your arms crossed in front of you. And Suguru tilts his head, closing the door behind him.

“Did something happen in this room?” and you roll your eyes, as he steps forward, “ah, yes, you’re referring to your grades right?”

“Yes, my grades — I’m still upset about that 99,” but the playfulness all but dies on your lips as he draws close, your eyes unable to meet his gaze, as if you would see some truth you weren’t ready to uncover, “Suguru, what’s going on?”

“Sweetheart—”

“You’ve been distant since my birthday, avoiding calling me, you barely text me — and today, you didn’t even tell me you were in Tokyo,” your voice breaks — even if you had thought what you wanted to say to him a million times today — it didn’t make it any easier, “are you upset with me?”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he’s shaking his head, as he cups your cheeks, “you didn’t do anything except be completely wonderful,” he swallows, voice catching, as he seems to struggle with his words, “and that’s why I have to let you go,”

The sentence repeats in your mind over and over — and you still can’t make sense of it. No, no, it didn’t make sense. Why would he want to break up?

One word was all you could manage to respond with — “What?”

“Sweetheart, you deserve someone who can be there for you, someone who will be there with you when you need them, who will call you, prioritize you, give you all of their energy — and with this distance—”

“We can make it work—” and you know you’re crying now, tears rolling down his knuckles, filling the chasm he’s making between the two of you.

He’s running his fingers through his hair, “You’re making this work — I’m trying too but I haven’t been able to visit you, I haven’t been able to see you or talk to you properly in weeks—”

“It’s not forever, it won’t be like this. I’m almost done with my degree, I can move down to Kyoto—”

“And I don’t want you to limit your options because of me and my career,” he cuts you off gently, as his thumb rubs back and forth, wiping your tears away, “you have such a wonderful future ahead of you — whether you decide to pursue a Ph.D. or a lecturer position or whatever else — I want you to make that decision without my presence being a factor—”

“But—” and he’s pressing his lips to you softly, it’s gentle and sweet — his hands holding you as if you would break apart in his fingers before him, as his lips finally part yours “Suguru, I know what I’m doing—”

“I know, but so do I,” he murmurs, as he begins to step away from you, his warmth leaving your body, “if it’s easier for you to hate me, hate me — if it’s easier to be indifferent, be indifferent — I just can’t hold you back, sweetheart. I can’t do that to you — whether it’s professionally or personally,”

“Suguru, you’re not letting me have a say in this,” and he takes your hands, lacing your fingers together, “I want this, I know it’s been hard, but don’t you want this too?”

“I do — I love you, but that’s why I can’t do that to you. I want you to be happy—”

“Even if it comes at the cost of your own happiness?” you scoff, “Are you subscribing to utilitarianism? Are you okay being a happiness pump?” Your fingers try to find purchase on his cheek, but he pulls away, hands falling away from yours.

“I am, if it means you’re happy, then I am,” Suguru whispers, glancing away from him, “it’s not worth the risk,”

Your words are quiet, as you swallow your tears, and you force your voice to be steady, “You’re making this about me — when it’s about you too,” you brush past him, “I didn’t expect you to be a coward, Suguru, but I suppose, I got the answer I deserve.”

And the door shuts behind you, tears burning as you walk off — and you know that he wouldn’t follow.

But you still hoped he would.

~~~

Suguru stands by the window, watching students file in and out of the building.

It was the right thing to do. That’s what he kept telling himself — over and over and over. But if it was so right, then why did he feel wrong? Wrong for breaking your heart. Wrong for letting you wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He spent his time debating amongst others what right and wrong really was, but he always knew there would never be an answer.

And then he spots you leaving the building, before you bump into someone who stops you, your head down, but it doesn’t work, as the person pulls you into a hug. And he knew who it was — it was that student from earlier — Yuta. He had seen the way he looked at you — the same softness that Suguru had recognized because he saw it in himself.

He knew you deserved better, just because you were his answer —- he watched you sink into Yuta’s arms — doesn’t mean he was yours.

✧ a/n: ahhh the anticipated fourth part!! there’s gonna be one more part of the main series and then it’s onto extra credit fics :). Don’t worry it will be a happy ending!! I promise!

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @difficultdomains , @diogodxlot t, @that-goth-bisexual , @dazailover1900 0, @aliyalala , @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @maddietries ,

[f1fantasys]

I love your writing. The fic you wrote made me think about this one… Lando and reader getting caught by another driver on the grid. Like they are on a vacation and nobody knows for sure if they are dating but they do those little things and once they get caught. Like that?

Aww you have no idea how happy it makes me you like my writing! Hope you enjoy this one anon.

You were mine all along

Warnings - swearing, smut (p in v, oral receiving m and f, blowjobs, unprotected sex, minors DNI)

3.1K

Working for F1 as a social media creator meant you spent a lot of time with all the drivers and their teams. You'd been doing this for 3 years now and it was safe to say there was one driver in particular with whom you were immediately attracted to, the both of you dancing along their lines of exploring something more than just a friendship - Lando.

But that was the problem - you became friends first and foremost, and the thought of risking that for a relationship where you might lose each other? Neither of you were ready to take that step forward.

A lot of your mutual friends (drivers and other media personal) always teased the two of you. What you both didn't know was that bets were being made behind your backs as to when you two would finally get together.

So has close as you were, the days always started perfectly, and the nights always ended internally painful.

That was until 2 months ago though. It was the weekend before the triple header - Lando had invited you, Max and P to his parents cottage in St Tropez.

You knew the more time you spent with him, the more difficult it wold be to keep your thoughts and hands to yourself but on the last night you found yourselves in the hot tub alone, when Max and P called it a night.

The air was palpable, sexual tension reaching a new high with both you and Lando just staring at each other. No words being spoken verbally, but rather with the darkened gaze on each other.

It was no secret to the other that you so badly wanted each other - and after 10 minutes of agony, Lando reached for your arm and pulled you to sit on his lap, eyes never leaving yours.

You bit your lip as you felt Lando's hands explore your body - your shoulders, arms, legs, tummy, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your boobs, and eventually your ass through your bikini bottoms.

As your breathing increased and you tried to suppress your moans - partly because you could feel his hardening dick, Lando bought his hand up to your face. His own thumb now swiping across your lip.

''Lando....'' you said, not sure if you were edging him to carry on, or to stop what he was doing because of the consequences you'd face later.

He blinked a few times, face laced with a sense of confusion, before he spoke two words that changed everything.

''Fuck it'' he mumbled, before crashing his lips to yours, hard and rough, as if his life depended on it.

You reacted instantly, opening your mouth up and letting him slip his tongue in, while your hands pulled at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

That was where it all began, and you'd been inseparable from each other ever since. You wanted to keep yourselves in your own bubble for as long as possible, not telling anyone, not even your friends.

It was difficult to say the least, during the triple header. Trying to act normal around each other while working in the paddock, although you'd made a few trips to Lando's driver room for a few pre-quali or pre-race fucks.

Luckily, you were always at the same hotel, so it was easy for you to slip into Lando's room in the late hours of the night where he'd show you how how much he missed you with rough kisses, violent fucks - him slamming into you and filling you up - and after sex cuddles, until you had to sneak back to your room in the early morning.

Things had been going well, no one seemed to have caught on to your relationship - which you were grateful for. It was nice just being the two of you alone.

You were now on a holiday with Lando in Lake Como, two weeks into the summer break. It was a secluded little village with the privacy you'd both craved, so you were spending an entire 10 days here. Lando rented out a little cottage and your days so far had been spent joined at the hip - whether it was cooking, dancing, relaxing doing nothing, and not to mention the endless amounts of sex you'd had.

He'd truly fucked you in every corner of the house - inside and out. The physical part of your relationship was something you both very quickly learned would be a big part of your lives. And Lando never missed an opportunity to get down and dirty on you - so to be together for 10 whole days with no prying eyes - whether it was friends, family or fans - he was going to take advantage of it and not let you up.

Not that you were complaining. You loved when you'd wake up in the morning, Lando's face between your legs, his tongue biting and sucking at your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you, until you came all over his face and he made sure to lick you clean.

You also loved that one night which started when you cooked and ate dinner, Lando put on some beautiful slow music which had you both waltzing (as best you could) from the lounge to the dining room, and ended with you on your knees in front of him, eagerly pulling his shorts down to reveal his thick girth standing tall, begging for attention. You sucked on his tip, swallowing his pre-cum before you deep throated him, letting him fuck your mouth until he was a moaning mess above you, praising your name and coating your throat white with sheets of warm cum. He said that was the best head he'd ever received.

And let's not forget that time he had you bent over the balcony, his dick fucking into you so hard you saw literal stars above you. You'd both said ''i love you'' for the first time, and after a slow, sensual kiss, things turned heated. You both stripped your clothes as quickly as possible and in no time Lando was forcing you to hold on to the railings as he railed his cock into your pussy overwhelmingly, and his hands found your waist and surely left purple marks to be the seen the next day. He told you how good you were for him, taking him so well. So wet and so tight, only for him. Only for you, you'd told him back. before your came violently around his cock. Your body could barely hold onto the railing, not mentioning how your legs were like jelly, so Lando sat back down and you sat on his dick, riding him almost painfully quickly, as his lips found your hard nipples and bit and pulled on them. You came again, and this time your body gave up on you, so Lando had to fuck himself up into you to chase his own orgasm, before releasing into your pussy, dick twitching inside of you.

So although there was an awful amount of sex happening, you also enjoyed the sweet kisses and cuddles Lando gave to you through the day and night. There was something so domestic about sharing a house with them and you happily agreed when he asked you to move in with him back home in Monaco. Having known each other for 3 years meant you knew each other inside out, so moving in together 2 months into a relationship excited you more than it worried you.

It was your last night here so Lando had booked a dinner at a Micheline star restaurant - a cozy, intimate place. The food was so delicious - you might call it better than sex - though nothing could beat sex with Lando so you take that back. You were both about 4 glasses of wine in while waiting for dessert and Lando was definitely becoming very handsy and affectionate. Not that you could keep your hand to yourself either.

Lando had left his seat to come and sit next to you and you felt his hand rest on your thigh before you felt him slowly make his way up, close to your core, which by now was dripping wet.

Your face flushed as he slipped it through your lacey panties and swipe through your folds before settling at your clit, pinching at it harshly.

Luckily the lighting was low in the restaurant, and anyone who looked your way would have just thought the two of you as young lovers who wanted to be seated as close as possible. If only they knew what was going on under the table you thought.

Conversation had long left you and Lando was his focus was solely on getting his fingers in your cunt, and yours was merely on trying to enjoy the stimulation without letting out any audible moans and pants.

Just as Lando slipped a finger through your entrance you heard an all too familiar voice, which had you shaking with fear as Lando's fingers stilled, still inside of you. ''Fuck'' you heard Lando mutter.

You looked up and saw none other than George and Carmen, staring sheepishly at the two of you.

''Fancy seeing you both here, together'' George muttered very matter of factly.

Lando shook hands with him with the hand that was not in your pussy, as Carmen leaned down to peck your flushed cheeks.

''Oh fuck off'' Lando said, the pair of them the best of friends, so not taking it seriously.

Lando signaled to the waiter to bring two more chairs, which internally had you screaming at him because hello? His finger was literally still in your cunt.

You both knew you'd been caught though, so there would be no denying your relationship - at least to G and C.

''Sooooo'' Carmen started.

''Soooo'' you said back, pretending you didn't know where this was going.

''Fuck it, just tell us the two of you finally sorted your shit out and are fucking'' George piped in.

If your cheeks were pink before, they were fiery red now. You looked at Lando, who by the looks it was feeling the effects of his wine at just this moment, so he was a smiling mess

''Fuck. Well. When you put it like that - fine. Yes'' you said softly.

''But we're not just fucking'' Lando chimed in. ''We're making love too. Coz we're together together'' he said.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, not able to keep a smile at bay, though shocked at his response.

''Blimey, you're in deep'' G said, smirking at Carmen.

You suddenly shifted in your seat, biting your lip, as Lando slowly started to thrust his finger again.

He and George started talking about something, but you were a fool to think Carmen wouldn't catch on to what was going on.

She looked at you, then at Lando, and back to you, and took a breath.

''Are we-wow. Are we interrupting something?'' she asked, trying to keep her smirk in.

''What? no'' you said, although the tremble in your voice said otherwise.

''Fuck, George, time to go'' she quickly said, ushering a confused G up and out of his seat.

''What are you-'' then he looked between you and Lando, for the first time noticing the looks on your faces, then he caught on.

''Holy shit, enjoy, lovebirds, and don't think I'll ever forget this!'' he said, before he and Carmen quickly walked away giggling to each other.

''Fuck me'' Lando groaned, though sped up his actions in and out of you.

''Gladly, take me home baby'' you said as he pulled his finger out and licked it clean, turning you into an even wetter mess down there.

The ride back to the house with palpable with tension. The thought of getting caught sending a rush of adrenaline through you both.

As soon as Lando helped you out the car he picked you up by the back of your knees and threw you over his shoulder, rushing into the house at such a speed you had no time to react.

He placed you down on the kitchen counter before ripping your dress of of you, eyes darkening when he saw you weren't wearing a bra, only panties that barely covered anything.

He snatched them off of you before spreading your legs apart and placing them on his shoulders.

''Lan'' you mumbled, desperate for him to do something.

''Patience babygirl, we're only getting started'' he said, licking his lips.

His one hand reached up to pry his fingers into your mouth for you to suck while his other hand pinched and pulled at your hard nipples. All the while his own mouth found your dripping cunt, licking a stripe up and collecting all your juices.

''So fucking wet. All for me, yeah?'' he asked.

You moaned. ''All yours Lan, only yours'' you answered, pulling hard at his curls.

Lando quickly found your clit and dramatically pinched it between his lips, the stimulation letting you reach new heights.

''Fuck, Lando, please. More'' you begged of him.

He pryed your pussy open with his two hands and then his tongue was sliding in and out of you, hitting just the right spots.

You watched as he slowly became a mess - lips and chin full of a mixture of his spit and your juices, strings of sticky liquid dripping down your thighs.

''So tight, yeah baby, just the way i like it'' he said between breaths.

Within minutes your body was shuddering, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you harshly, making an even bigger mess of Lando's face.

He rode you through your orgasm before pulling you up by your arms to sit up, meeting your halfway to lock lips and let you taste your arousal.

''Need to feel you in me, please'' you said through gritted teeth, your hands already working on removed his button up and belt on his trousers.

Once he was free of his constraints, you took his girth into your hands and pumped him a few times, your thumb brushing the slit where pre cum was already dripping.

He hissed at the contact before taking himself into his own hands and sliding his dick through your folds. ''Ready for me baby?'' he asked, smirk on his lips. You knew that smirk - he was going to ruin you, and you wouldn't have it any other way, but you still braced yourself.

''Please fuck me'' you begged.

''Juuust remember. You asked for it - no going back now yeah? he said, smirk growing bigger and eyes getting darker by the second.

'''Hmmm mm'' was all you time to say before he violently thrust himself into you, started a pace unlike any other time you've had sex.

This time he didn't give you time to adjust to the intrusion, he slammed in and out of you at a pace that had your hips hitting each other within seconds.

''Of fuck Lando uh'' you moaned, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It felt fucking amazing but with the amount of non stop sex the two of you have had the last 10 days has your cunt aching and throbbing, quickly becoming overly sensitive.

''Come on baby, I know you have at least 2 more in you. Gonna be a good girl for me yeah?'' Lando said through gritted teeth, his own sensitivity reaching a new high.

''Fuck Lan, gonna cum now'' you panted, digging your nails deep into his biceps.

''Give it to me angel''

Within seconds you body was shaking and you were screaming Lando's name, releasing your fluids all around his dick.

''Fuck baby, that's it. Gonna let me fill you up now?'' he asked, though you were too fucked out to answer him, and with no warning another orgasm rocked through your body causing you to be on the verge of blacking out.

By now Lando's movements were becoming sloppy and clumsy, clearly he was on edge too as he was mumbled out incoherent words - ''fuck, y/n, my own whore, so tight, fuck, yes'' before you felt his warm cum splutter through you, his own body now shaking above you, a sheen of sweat covering his whole body with the workout he'd just done.

You both stilled, trying to catch your breath, before Lando let his weight fall onto your lower body, hugging you around your stomach as your hands tangled in his hair.

You could feel him softening inside of you but neither of you made any effort to move.

''Baby?'' he started.

''Hmm yeah?''

''I'm sorry i called you a whore. I meant it as a complement, I promise''

''Fuck Lan'' you giggled and rubbed his cheek earning a look up from him. ''Call me your whore any day. Tells me I'm yours and only yours'' you cooed.

He couldn't help but send you the biggest boyish grin he had. ''Fucking love you so much. Why the hell did we wait this long to get together. Could have started from day 1'' he said, this time taking his weight off you and slowly pulling his dick out. You hissed at the loss of contact but he pulled you up and held you gently.

''Baby our day 1 started 2 months ago, and we have forever to go, i hope'' you said, winking at him.

''Hmm mmm'' he replied, bending down and spreading your legs again.

''Lan I love you but no more, I'm so fucking sore''

''Shhhh let me'' he said as he licked a stripe up you cunt, collecting a mixture of yours and his cum.

You gasped and watched as he leveled his head back with yours and pryed your lips open with his fingers before letting the liquid drip down from his to your mouth.

''Hmmm'' you moaned at the taste, wetness already pooling between your legs again but you knew you were too sore to do anything about it.

You swallowed everything before Lando kissed you hard and deep, his tongue slipping into your mouth before sucking on your own tongue.

''I'd say t'was a good summers break, yeah? he asked.

''Best ever'' you replied, pulling him in for another kiss.

''Bet George's already told everyone. Gossip king'' you said, remembering how the night unfolded.

''Hell yeah'' Lando said, checking his phone and seeing there were tens of messages flooding in on your groupchat with the other drivers and their wags.

''Fucking bastards'' he mumbled.

''What?'' you asked.

''They fucking bet on us. On when we'd get together. Looks like Charles won''

''Urghhhhh'' you groaned.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

no words needed

words: 1.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, rough-ish sex (like not really by tumblr standards lol), lingerie

you admire yourself in the mirror, turning around to make sure every strap is in place across your back.

it's not quite your two year anniversary with rafe, it's about a week away, but when you got the lingerie in the mail, you couldn't wait to put it on and surprise him with it.

you take a sip of water as you meander around the upstairs, waiting for your boyfriend to return home.

the second you hear the door open, you rush back into your bedroom, placing yourself on the edge of the bed, back pin straight and chest pushed forward, showing off your barely covered chest, nipples poking through the lace.

you can hear rafes heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, not immediately calling out for you like he normally does. it's the first sign that something is wrong.

“rafey-” you pout when he comes into the doorway, his large figure taking up most of the space, a scowl on his face, hands clenched tight in fists.

“im-im sorry.” you shake your head, trying to cover yourself the best you can. “clearly you had a bad day at work and this was stupid of me-”

rafe cuts you off, suddenly tearing off his jacket and stomping the rest of the way to you. you can feel his scowl still on his face as he kisses you, hot and hard.

his hands begin to explore, not gentle, gliding touches, but grabs and squeezes, feeling up your chest before dropping down to your ass.

you gasp when he delivers a sudden smack to your bum, but rafe just uses your open mouth as an opportunity to plunge his tongue between your lips.

rafe doesn't need to use his words for you to know what he needs at this moment. work clearly sucked, or maybe something happened with barry or his sister. you'll talk about it later. use your words to comfort him, but right now, what he needs is to seek relief in your body.

rafe pulls away from your lips, leaving you panting. he pauses for just a moment, allowing you to blink up at him, a look of pure innocence on your face opposed to his firm set brow and down turned lips.

after that moment is over, rafe begins to move quickly again, flipping you over and pushing you down face first onto the bed.

your pretty lace thong is quickly torn away, rafes large palms pushing your thighs open, viewing both your holes.

“you have while i get undressed to prepare yourself.” it's the first words rafe has spoken since you got home.

you hear him begin to undress, unbuttoning his shirt as your hand reaches down. the shirt falls to the floor as you begin to rub your clit, getting yourself wet and ready for him as he takes his belt off next.

you're significantly wetter once the last of rafes clothes have been discarded as he lines up behind him, pulling your ass right to the edge of the bed so he can remain standing, the tall mattress at a perfect height for him as his cock runs through your folds just twice before pressing against your entrance.

rafe is usually soft and sweet in this moment, slowly pushing in, pressing kisses to your skin as he tells you how good you feel, but he is not his usual self today. he plunges his cock into you in one quick motion, immediately setting a fast pace as his hips begin to thrust.

“oh fuck!” you squeal out, gripping onto the bedsheets with both hands, crying out as he obliterates you, going as deep into your cunt as your body allows.

rafe grips onto your ass, squeezing it and using your plump flesh as a hold on your body as he ravages you, focused completely on getting his sick feelings out, to put him in a better mood, a mood that allows him to kiss you gently goodnight and hold you while you sleep.

usually just looking at you would calm rafe down, but all the shit going wrong with his dealing with barry has overwhelmed him to the point of explosion.

rafe chases that relief in your pussy, grunting aggressively as he tries to move even faster, sweat dripping down his front, cresting the peak of his chest before dribbling down the contours of his abs.

rafes hands move to your thighs, lifting them up as you fall forward onto your face, moaning into the mattress as rafe groans out, your pussy feeling even tighter around his cock at this angle.

one of rafes hands runs lower down your thigh until it reaches your white knee sock, pulling the fabric back until it thwacks back against your skin, a smirk on his face.

his perfect girl, always understanding and strong, the only reason you've lasted the two years with rafe. and now, dressed up just for him.

rafe slows his hips momentarily, bending down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. “thank you.” he manages to whisper, voice sounding vulnerable even to his ears, but it doesn't last for long as he straightens back out and picks up the pace.

you know you're close, but you're determined to hold out until rafe cums, needing your body to stay pliable and ready for however long he needs to get every drop of anger out.

rafes hands are squeezing your thighs so tightly they're sure to leave bruises in the morning. bruises that will cause your friends to giggle when you're tanning by the pool and the old ladies at the country club to gasp and whisper to each other when you don your short tennis skirt.

you don't need rafe to warn you that he's close, you can feel the way his cock begins to swell inside of your cunt, pushing further against your walls, that he's about to burst.

you allow your own orgasm to breech, screaming and moaning rafes names into the sheets as your pussy clenches around his cock.

rafe swears he sees stars from how hard his orgasm hits, body folding over yours as he cums, putting as much weight as he can into holding you down, flooding you with cum.

you both remain still as your highs work through your body until rafe slumps against you and rolls to the side.

you take another minute before picking your head up, realizing rafes eyes are closed, looking far more peaceful than when he entered.

“wanna talk about it?” you ask softly.

“in the morning.” rafe mumbles. 

you watch his face, the way his pink lips are slightly parted as he breathes, the perfect slope of his nose, his tanned skin and defined cheekbones.

“we should take a bath.” rafe says, making you blink and realize his eyes are now open, staring at you expectantly.

“yeah, sure.” you nod. “whatever you want.”

rafe gets up slowly, but not before pausing to press a soft kiss against your lips. “seriously.” he whispers. “thank you.”

you smile up at him, no words needed.

[bahablastplz]

Come Play: Chan x Reader

You and Chan are playing a dangerous game of who will break first... and it's not going to be you. CW: Teasing, spanking, choking, hair-pulling, dom! Chan, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (use of words like whore and slut), safe words mentioned WC: 2200

You aren’t sure how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. You and your boyfriend were playing a dangerous game, one that neither of you were willing to admit. 

You had only been dating for a few months, sure, but you found yourself overrun with desire just about every time you saw Chan. He, apparently, felt the same way, always pressing searing kisses to your lips and neck. It never went further than that–he wanted to go slow with you, take the time to explore your relationship and all that. 

Gazes became more intense and touches started to linger… then he started smacking your ass. Playfully, of course, whenever you walked by. He giggled at the way your cheeks would flush and the way you wouldn’t look at him. Whenever you decided to return the favor, however, he was faster. He would always catch your hand before you landed a smack onto his perfect ass, much to your dismay. 

You found the perfect opportunity during movie night. He was walking toward you on the couch, his arms full of blankets and various snacks, no way to defend himself… He must have seen the mischievous glint in your eye. “Don’t,” he warned you, but you were already winding up to send a loud, playful smack right to his behind. You erupted into a fit of giggles until you saw the look in his eyes, straight-up predatory. Your blood ran cold and before you knew it you were up and running toward your room, unable to stop your laughter. Chan dropped everything in his hands and ran after you, grabbing you by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder. Perfect, you thought, as you now had direct access to his ass that you playfully smacked a hundred times as he hauled you into your bedroom. What you weren’t expecting was for him to throw you on the bed and drag you over his lap. 

“Chan, what–” 

“You think you’re so funny,” he mocked. You squirmed in his lap, unsure of his intentions but he was quick to splay one large palm on your back, effectively keeping you in place. He grabbed the bottoms of your shorts, hiking them up until your bare ass was on display for him. 

“Wait, Chan, I didn’t mean to–” 

THWACK. 

He landed one very harsh hit straight to the flesh of your cheek causing you to cry out. Well… okay. Maybe you moaned. Loudly. 

He kneads the flesh, soothing it with deft fingers. You don’t have to look at him to see that he’s smirking. You’re just as surprised when he lands a twin smack to the same impacted area. The third one comes just as quickly and before you know it, he’s adjusting your shorts for you and pulling you to your feet. 

“Movie time?” he asked nonchalantly as if that did not just happen. You nod weakly, face scorching hot. If this was a game he was definitely winning. 

*** 

Day 1 of trying to rile up Chan and win… whatever this was. You are much more obvious with your touches, trailing a finger down his muscled chest and blinking at him innocently. The real kicker, however, is when you kneel right in front of him and pull back your hair. He leans back on the couch and spreads his legs, a dangerous look in his eyes before you abruptly stand up. 

“Found it!” you exclaim, holding your phone up for him to see. His jaw clenches, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as he smiles tightly. You felt smug and you weren’t afraid to show it, smiling back at him proudly. 

He makes it up to you later when he walks up behind you in the kitchen where you’re cooking dinner. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses up behind you impossibly close where you can feel his bulge pressing into you. You gasp, stilling as he pushes his hips against you; the friction is delicious and you can’t help the breathy sound that escapes your lips, wound up from the past few days. He reaches above you then, grabbing a pan from the cabinet before pulling apart and giving you a saccharine-sweet grin. “Found it,” he mocks. You roll your eyes at him and huff. You are not going to break first.

Over dinner, you moan unabashedly into your food. You’re obnoxious about it, closing your eyes and tilting your head back as you savor the food. Chan is stiff the whole meal, and it probably seals the deal when you reach over and grab his hand, pulling his fingers into your mouth as you suck the sauce from his fingertips. You make sure to let out a little groan around them, even going as far as to swirl your tongue around them and give him an intensely seductive look. 

He laughs nervously, his ears turning crimson. You had the upper hand. 

Next movie night, he pulls you close to his body, cradling you in his arms. His hands stroke up and down your arms, soothing you as you relax into him. You should’ve known it was a facade, however, when he reaches down to pull up your blanket and his thumb brushes over your nipple. He circles over it once, twice, before he finishes pulling the blanket up. “Oops,” he says. If you were relaxed before, you definitely aren’t now. 

The next day you find the most scandalous outfit you can pull from your closet. A thin tank top, no bra, and the shortest little skirt you own with a very pretty yet suggestive pair of panties. The second Chan sees you he tenses and you can already tell the outfit has the desired effect, but you decide to push it even further, dropping your wallet right in front of him and bending down to pick it up. You’re slow, deliberate, and you can feel his gaze on you. You give him a perfect view of your panties and you even wiggle your ass, taunting him. Then just as fast you pick up the dropped item as if nothing had happened. 

His hand stays on your thigh all night. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this act, every little touch making all of your nerves stand on end. He squeezes your thigh, rubbing circles against the flesh as his fingers trail up, up, up… He toys with the bottom of your panties, his fingers playing sensually with the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You barely breathe. 

God this game is progressing at an alarming rate… But you have an ace up your sleeve. 

Time for another movie night that is sure to go mostly unwatched, the tension palpable between you two. 

“Can we cuddle?” you ask. It’s innocent enough. He sees no wrong with your suggestion despite the way his brows furrow and he tries to read between the lines. And so he pulls you close to his chest and wraps an arm around your torso. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck as he presses play on the film… you didn’t even catch the name of it. 

Because it takes all of five minutes for you to wiggle your ass against his front, intentional about the way you brush against the bulge in his pants. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low. Your heart rate increases tenfold and you can’t help the giddy smile on your face. 

“Getting comfy,” you explain. You squirm even more and you feel his hand grasp even harder against your torso, trying to hold you in place. You can feel his length harden behind you and you grind against it, grind, grind, grind… 

“Fuck this,” he says abruptly, throwing the blanket off of you. He grabs your hair and drags you to the end of the couch, bending you over it. “Here I was, trying to be a gentleman… wanted to be nice and gentle for our first time… but you had to be a brat, play these mind games with me, yeah?” He grabs your shorts and panties and pulls them down your legs in one swift blow, leaving you exposed to him. 

“You started it,” you remind him. “Had to… bend me over and spank me like it was nothing.” 

“Was trying to show you what happens when you misbehave… Obviously you missed that memo.” He slides his fingers through your folds, not surprised to see you’re soaking wet. He reaches his hand around your front and pushes his fingers past your lips, making you taste yourself. He’s a little harsh, pushing his fingers back a little further than necessary. 

“You liked it,” you accuse. “You tried to one-up me every time.” He lands a harsh slap to your ass and you moan, burying your head into the couch. He grabs your neck, pulling you up until your back is pressed up against his chest. 

“I’ll make you regret it,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m not going to go easy on you, and when I pound into your tight little pussy you’ll wish we never played this game. Safeword is… uh, pineapple, yeah?” 

You nod at him and he lets go of your throat, allowing you to fall forward once again. You hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt and the notable thunk of fabric hitting the floor. He pushes forward until his length is sliding against your core, his thick tip teasing your clit with each thrust. It feels incredible… the days and weeks of tension more than worth it for this outcome. 

His tip catches at your entrance and he begins to push in, slamming his hips into yours. He bottoms out immediately, easy thanks to your dripping arousal, and god you swear you can feel him in your guts. 

“Big,” you mumble. 

“You can take it,” he snaps. “Don’t try to back out now when you’ve been teasing me like a little slut all week.” You moan at that, clenching around him at his words. One large hand spreads across your lower back, pushing you further into the couch. He pulls out slowly and you can feel inch by agonizing inch of his length as he drags his cock along your walls before he slams back into you just as hard, causing you to cry out. 

Before you know it his hands are on your hips, bruising tight as he uses you for leverage to snap his cock relentlessly into your hips. The pace he sets is absolutely brutal and mind-numbing, and you can’t help the spew of cries and nonsense that falls past your lips. You beg him, though you’re not sure for what. Reprieve? No, you certainly didn’t want that. 

He uses your body for his pleasure. You’re not even sure your feet are touching the floor with the speed and strength that he pounds into you with. You’re blabbering and you’ve never felt so good, his length reaching parts of you that have never been touched before. Your clit rubs deliciously on the arm of the couch and the sensations are almost overstimulating but a new level of pleasure you didn’t know existed. 

You arch your back and try to turn your head to look at him but his eyes grow so dark your breath catches in your throat. You aren’t expecting for him to lift one leg up, pinning your head down to the couch with a socked foot as he resumes the brutal pace. 

SMACK. 

One hit to your ass has you clenching around him as you let out a noise that is straight-up pornagraphic. “That’s for licking my fingers and moaning like a whore.” 

SMACK.

“That’s for that slutty little outfit you wore.” His pace quickens, and how is that even possible? He’s already breaking records for how fast his hips are pistoning into yours. 

SMACK. 

This one is the hardest yet and he follows it by grabbing the sensitive flesh hard. “And this, this is for that little display on the couch. Grinding your hips into me like you’re so desperate for my cock.” 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight-train. You all but scream as you come undone around him, spasming and pulsing around his cock and yelling his name like it's a mantra. He fucks you right through it past the point of sensitivity and he’s quiet now, thrusting into you only a handful of times before he slows, pushing himself as deep into you as he can go and grinding into your sopping core as he releases. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock before you’re flooded with his hot cum and god it feels like he’s spilling buckets inside of you, his orgasm seeming to last a full minute. 

When he pulls out of you you both release a content sigh before he picks you up and carries you to the shower. 

“Was I too rough?” he asks, suddenly shy as his ears go red. It’s cute, the way he can spew utter filth into your ears and fuck you like it’s your last day alive before turning into a blushing, sheepish mess. 

“No,” you reassure him. “In all honesty that’s the exact outcome I wanted.” He laughs at that, turning on the stream of water as he helps you to your feet, washing your body for you. 

“I promise next time… geez, that’s really not how I expected our first time to go, you minx!” he interrupts himself with a fit of giggles. “Next time I’ll really do it right.” He kisses your neck and you hum into him. 

“Does this mean I won the game?” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: yes i still plan on releasing that omegaverse fic but it's a long one and this inspiration hit me like a truck <3

masterlist

[mariasont]

Okay , so a smutty Spencer x reader fic where is very alternative with tattoos and piercings. Maybe she works with the team as an entomologist or something idk BUT she always wears her contacts and one day she comes in thick black frame glasses. Spencer goes feral, he's never seen her in glasses before and he just kinda drags her into a hall closet and just "keep the glasses on" there's a lot of fanfics about the reader going feral seeing Spencer in glasses for the first time but what if it was reversed.

Framed Fascination

A/N: omggggg i loved writing this, you just know spencer would sooo be a sucker for a woman with tats and piercings, so canon

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x alt!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, glasses kink, praise, p in v, dirty talk, degrading sort of, office sex

wc: 2k

When you began dating Spencer, it raised a few eyebrows. Spencer Reid--reserved, a bit awkward, and endlessly knowledgeable--had ended up with someone who they thought was his complete opposite. And to that he would always say, "while the prevailing research suggests similarity is more common in relationships, there's an interesting phenomenon where sometimes, the very things that differ between two people can create a complementary dynamic, much like how two puzzle pieces with different notches fit."

At times, you would point out your differences solely to prompt this response. But, in truth, aside from your outward styles, you shared more similarities than not. Your tattoos and piercings were the first details Spencer noticed and quickly became his favorite as you strode into the morgue on a particularly demanding case. You were immersed in explaining how arsenic disrupted the body's functions, but Spencer was lost in the visual narrative of your ink, his gaze lingering on every etched symbol and shaded figure. From that moment, he was wholly engrossed, and vowed to eventually explore all the unseen tattoos that your clothes kept from view.

Spencer may have had the whole 'nerdy boy-next-door' aesthetic down to a science, but you? You took pride in being called 'intimidating', knowing it was just a first impression. You knew that beneath that surface lay as Spencer would say, 'a cinnamon roll'. Spencer seemed to see through it from the beginning, which is why he didn't hesitate to ask you out as soon as the case closed.

In the span of eight months, your life had been transformed into its healthiest chapter with Spencer as the culprit. He filled every day with thoughtful gesture--surprise art museum dates, breakfast in bed, flowers that would mysteriously find their way to your desk, notes you'd find tucked inside your coat pockets. In fact, if you had seen it in a cheesy rom-com, he probably had done it. You had been tackling each day with a little spring in your step.

Just like today--you bounded into your office humming—you were humming as you went over paperwork. Tasked with consulting for the consumer safety department, your focus was zeroed in on the pervasive issue of phthalates creeping into beauty products. You adjusted the unfamiliar weight of the thick black frames perched on your nose--an odd sensation since you habitually opted for contacts--as your eyes dragged over the papers.

The hum of the fax machine broke the silence, and you swiveled in your chair, a smile dawning as you recognized the documents from last week's BAU case--giving you a chance to steal a moment with your boyfriend.

Paperwork in hand, you made your way to the BAU office, the click of your heels on marble floors keeping time with your quickening pulse. The bullpen was a whirlwind of activity as you greeted Morgan and Prentiss with a nod and smile, your gaze sweeping through the room until it landed on him. 

"Hi there, handsome," you greeted with a playful lilt in your voice, your fingers rapping gently against the wood of his desk.

"Hi, sweetheart--," he began, but his words trailed off as his eyes met yours. There was a pause, a momentary lapse in his ever-flowing stream of thoughts, as he took in the sight of you.

Glasses? He couldn't recall you ever wearing glasses, yet there they were, and the effect was undeniable. The sight sent a wave of unexpected thrill through him--a visceral reaction that left him speechless, his lips parting in awe. 

Spencer's throat cleared, a subtle sound amid the bullpen's activity. His gaze flickered around the room, a silent plea that his colleagues were too engrossed in their work to notice the way he practically undressed you with his eyes. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

"Since I nearly scratched my eye out trying to get my contacts in this morning," you said with a laugh, though the action of straightening your glasses was more of a nervous tic.

His stare was unyielding--intense and almost piercing. It unsettled you slightly as you studied his expression, your head tilting inquisitively as he said nothing else. 

"Well, uh, anyway I have to drop this off to Hotch," you murmured, your voice trailing off as you felt the weight of Spencer's penetrating gaze. 

You lingered for a heartbeat too long, hoping for a word, a smile--anything. But nothing came. With a shaky breath, you turned away, hands trembling ever so slightly as you handed the paperwork to Hotch. You whisked yourself back to the comfort of your office. The was weird, right? I mean, sure, Spencer had never been one for being overly affectionate in public, but he at least had more to say than that.

You pushed the nagging doubts to the back of your mind, focusing on the monotony data and figures that sprawled across your reports. He was probably just having a bad day, too maybe theoretical thoughts brewing in the beautiful mind of his.

The hours crawled by, each minute punctuated by the drone of the office--uninteresting reports, pesky coworkers, and the persistent buzz of thoughts circling back to Spencer. When it was an appropriate time to take your lunch, you pushed your laptop aside with a little too much eagerness, hands diving into your bag for your food. 

But before you could do that, a soft interruption at the door caught your attention. Your head snapped up, meeting Spencer's gaze as he leaned causally against the frame of the door.

He stood there, watching as you glanced up at him, the rims of your glasses framing your eyes in a way that made an involuntary shiver down his spine, his gaze lingering on your face. You appeared tired, yes, but the image of you like this had been imprinted on his mind all day, rendering his work secondary to the thought of seeing you again. 

"Spence, hi," you greeted, a sweet smile blooming on your lips as you peered up at him. Your brows knit together slightly; his visits were rare unless case-related. "I was just about to take my lunch, wanna join?"

"No," he replied with a swift shake of his head, the corners of his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. "Could I borrow you for a second?"

Your gaze returned to the lunch that lay before you, untouched and suddenly unappealing. Letting out a small sigh, you nodded. "Sure," you replied, still trying to piece together Spencer's odd behavior today.

He tilted his head back subtly, a silent cue for you to follow him. You obliged without hesitation, following after him, your steps echoing his through the hallway. Your confusion mounted, etched into the deepening furrow of your brows with each corner turned. 

"Spencer," you said, a giggle escaping your lips. "I trust you're not taking me down some ominous hallway to meet my untimely end?"

"Actually, it is an interesting fact that the majority people meet their 'untimely end' at the hands of someone they love." 

"Great, thank you for that, I think that's my cue," you joked, pivoting away in an attempt to make a dramatic exit. But Spencer's reflexes were quick, his grasp secure on your wrist as he steered you into the nearest supply closet. The small space muffled your surprised oomph as you nearly collided with a stack of supplies.

You stumbled into the warmth of his chest, your glasses skewing comically as you steadied them with a fingertip. "Spencer! What has gotten into you?"

"You," came his growl, rough and urgent, while his hands frantically sought your legs, pinning you against the wall.

A soft moan slipped through the surprise of parted lips as his lips found yours. Your fingers tangled in the soft locks of his hair, pulling him closer, your mouth meeting his with the same intensity. 

Your laughter mingles with the kiss as you pull back, lips brushing. "Not that I'm complaining, Agent Reid, but someone is definitely going to catch us."

His eyes meet yours, equally amused as he pins your hands over your head. He makes quick work of open-mouthed kisses on your neck, your body instantly melting into his as his teeth scrape along your sweet spot. "Don't care."

His lips trailed back to yours, his fingers fumbling to push your skirt up to your stomach. You let out a surprised gasp into his mouth, finding the sudden intensity of him incredibly hot. He pressed his thumb into your clit as you dug your fingers into the nape of his neck, your head lolling back as you all but thrusted into his hand. The room swirled with heat, your glasses misting up. You reached for the pesky frames, but his fingers intercepted, pining them against your chest.

"Those stay on, sweetheart." The words tickled your ear, intimate and close, as his fingers traced through your slick folds, coaxing a contented pant from you.

"That's what's got you all worked up, Spence?" You moaned out as his fingers glided over your skin, now slick, drawing a line of warmth up your body. 

He settled his thumb on your tongue, shutting you up as he grabbed a handful of your ass. You wrapped your lips around it, savoring the taste as your eyes locked with his over the foggy veil of your glasses. His gaze held a quiet pride as he smirked. 

"Drove me crazy seeing you like that this morning." He said as he ground his body into yours, his erection settling on your stomach. "Makes you look so fuckable. Couldn't focus on anything else."

Your mouth vibrated softly around his thumb, muffled as he drew it away with pop. He makes quick work of undoing his belt, shoving down his pants and boxers just enough to release his length.

Your mouth watered at the sight, your body instinctively lowering to your knees, but his hand was there stopping you with a firm, "No time."

He pinned your shoulders to the wall with his body, his mouth crashing with yours with desperate need. Your mouth fell open into his as you felt his length press into your opening, his fingers holding your panties aside.

"You feel so good, sweetheart."

You don't think you would ever get over the feeling of him inside you, the way he stretched you out just right. You let out an unrestrained moan as he proceeded to pump inside you, his movements ruthless.

His palm sealed over your lips, a sudden barrier that sent warmth spreading across your face, glasses clouding rapidly, obscuring your view. "Quiet, baby. You want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Letting me fuck you in the office?"

You all but sobbed against his palm, your hands fisting the material of his sweater as he continued to abuse your pussy with deep strokes.

"Sp-Spence, please baby," you managed to breathe out as he released his hold on your mouth, grinding against him in an attempt at friction with your sensitive clit.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" He questioned, almost condescendingly as his fingers traced your cheek gently, a stark contrast to the way he pounded into you. "Need me to take care of you?"

"Please," you choked out.

"You're so good for me, baby." He said, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as he pressed his thumb to the part of you that ached most. You let out a sob of relief as you ground against his movements, the familiar coil in your stomach beginning to wind up as you clutched at Spencer's face.

"Spencer, shit, 'm so close," you babbled, tears welling in your eyes as each of his thrusts seemed to urge the ache.

"Go ahead, baby." He moaned as his you felt his thighs twitch against you. "Come on my cock, sweet girl."

His words were all you needed to push you off the edge, your back arching against the wall as your legs shook, threatening to collapse as a wave of pleasure washed over you. He came shortly after you, his form yielding to gravity as his head nestled into the crook of your shoulder, both of you panting softly as you tried to catch your breath.

After savoring a few heartbeats of content, he gently disentangled himself from you. His fingers deftly rearranging your skirt, with a touch so soft, so different from his demeanor two minutes ago. 

"Guess I need to wear the glasses more often, huh?"

A soft laughter bubbled up from him, his fingers lightly grazing under your eyes, brushing away the stray smudges of makeup. "Please do."