#some fluff ahead

[bubbiethesaur]

LRA doodles

(Woe, silly doodles be upon ye)

One of my goals this year is to improve my art skills, so I’ve been trying to practice every day. And what better way to practice than to do silly LRA doodles?

[lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs]

I thought about it for a bit, and I've decided to give you guys a heads up

Since I plan to make this "fight your own demons" kind of story, the main plotline will be about Sun and Moon helping a miserable human to get better

So, it's not gonna be pretty, especially since I'm planning on giving y/n high-functioning depression and possibly suicidal ideation, which can lead to some heavy and dark thoughts of the character (I'm already thinking about writing the first meeting of the trio, an let me tell you, y/n thoughts are freaking sad)

So, if you're sensitive to this kind of thing, beware

[the-chaos-crew]

so I might just take my comic thing a little serious (I'm having too much fun with it I was kicking my feet and giggling all day today at school doodling in my notebook)

made some references for Simon and Finn since I wanna stop having to open a new tab and google screenshots of the two- plus I want consistent outfits yk how it be

yes I shaded Simon with cool colors + gave him a blue shirt and scarf

yes I know how evil that is and I will own it

I can't not have fun with his tragic story aight

[silverseaming]

[mistletoeships-fess]

Oh thank god a confession blog run by adults. Nothing against kids but I feel so weird sending asks about my fos at my age, even if they are sfw jddjd

Could I be 🦇🩸 anon?

Anon that first sentence made both of us giggle you're so real for that, and I get it because sometimes I see like. 14 year olds or something on here who selfship and I'm like WOW I forgot they can do that (nothing against them though obviously! I was a 14 year old selfshipper once as well and boy what a time that was)

And yes you can! I officially dub thee... 🦇🩸 anon!

- Admin ☁️

[fluffypotatey]

when you want to write a character study but then start to doubt your understanding of the character :))))))))

[vanmarkham]

the thing about having bg3 fic bunnies is that i feel like i need to play the game another time to fully grasp everyone and their voices

[hunter-rodrigez]

My instructors went straight into the opposite direction.

For the record, when I was getting a degree in IT, one big part was writing a stupidly detailed documentation for a project.

I am talking 15 pages of fluff text describing how you set up a NAS or some shit like that.

And the committee that grades thousands of these fucking papers skims over them, if they read them at all.

So our instructors straight up said to us AI to write all the pointless fucking fluff text because there are officially no rules against it (yet) and literally nobody gives a flying fuck about these documentations in the first place.

They're no research papers or anything, we're not breaking any new ground here, and we ain't gonna find out anything previously unknown. It just has to look good, and you're basically supposed to write it as dry and soulless as chatgpt would write it anyway. It's a pointless fucking technicality, nobody will bother to read it so why bother writing it?

An important message to college students: Why you shouldn't use ChatGPT or other "AI" to write papers.

Here's the thing: Unlike plagiarism, where I can always find the exact source a student used, it's difficult to impossible to prove that a student used ChatGPT to write their paper. Which means I have to grade it as though the student wrote it.

So if your professor can't prove it, why shouldn't you use it?

Well, first off, it doesn't write good papers. Grading them as if the student did write it themself, so far I've given GPT-enhanced papers two Ds and an F.

If you're unlucky enough to get a professor like me, they've designed their assignments to be hard to plagiarize, which means they'll also be hard to get "AI" to write well. To get a good paper out of ChatGPT for my class, you'd have to write a prompt that's so long, with so many specifics, that you might as well just write the paper yourself.

ChatGPT absolutely loves to make broad, vague statements about, for example, what topics a book covers. Sadly for my students, I ask for specific examples from the book, and it's not so good at that. Nor is it good at explaining exactly why that example is connected to a concept from class. To get a good paper out of it, you'd have to have already identified the concepts you want to discuss and the relevant examples, and quite honestly if you can do that it'll be easier to write your own paper than to coax ChatGPT to write a decent paper.

The second reason you shouldn't do it?

IT WILL PUT YOUR PROFESSOR IN A REALLY FUCKING BAD MOOD. WHEN I'M IN A BAD MOOD I AM NOT GOING TO BE GENEROUS WITH MY GRADING.

I can't prove it's written by ChatGPT, but I can tell. It does not write like a college freshman. It writes like a professional copywriter churning out articles for a content farm. And much like a large language model, the more papers written by it I see, the better I get at identifying it, because it turns out there are certain phrases it really, really likes using.

Once I think you're using ChatGPT I will be extremely annoyed while I grade your paper. I will grade it as if you wrote it, but I will not grade it generously. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt if I'm not sure whether you understood a concept or not. I will not squint and try to understand how you thought two things are connected that I do not think are connected.

Moreover, I will continue to not feel generous when calculating your final grade for the class. Usually, if someone has been coming to class regularly all semester, turned things in on time, etc, then I might be willing to give them a tiny bit of help - round a 79.3% up to a B-, say. If you get a 79.3%, you will get your C+ and you'd better be thankful for it, because if you try to complain or claim you weren't using AI, I'll be letting the college's academic disciplinary committee decide what grade you should get.

Eventually my school will probably write actual guidelines for me to follow when I suspect use of AI, but for now, it's the wild west and it is in your best interest to avoid a showdown with me.

[sttoru]

Sukuna with clingy concubine 🛐🛐 like hella clingy, always clinging to sukuna, sitting on his lap and just following sukuna like a lost puppy

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff. little bit suggestive. size difference. reader is clingy, a bit of an airhead ig. reader gets called ‘girl, brat’.

“y’re annoying me, girl,” sukuna grumbles as he walks to the courtyard. you had magically appeared behind him the moment he stepped out of his room to get some fresh air.

you flash him an apologetic smile “i’m sorry, my lord.” you’re not sorry, sukuna knows, though he doesn’t comment on it. it’s been like this ever since a week or two ago. he cannot recall why you’re suddenly so much more affectionate.

he doesn’t wait on you, however, and takes big strides towards the courtyard. if your little legs can’t keep up, that isn’t his problem. you frown and take on the challenge that’s been thrown your way.

you increase your pace and nearly run after sukuna. you have to lift your kimono a little to make sure you wouldn’t trip over the fabric. it doesn’t seem like you’ll give up any time soon as you follow him with that same content expression on your face.

sukuna can’t believe that a human like you dares to even be in his presence for so long. he didn’t call for you, so why are you adamant on staying with him? he concludes that something must be up, “what’d you want from me?”

there hangs a silence between you two afterwards. sukuna’s slow yet heavy footsteps reverberate through the hallway, followed by your quick and light ones. you pout as you notice that the king of curses isn’t even sparing you a glance, “nothing at all. i just like to be with you.”

you add the latter as an afterthought. you don’t expect sukuna to react to that, so you continue to trail behind him into the courtyard. “tch,” you hear him scoff in annoyance. you’re sure he doesn’t mean any actual harm by that, so you don’t take it personally.

sukuna eventually sits down on the engawa, where the servants have placed the comfy zabuton cushions. there’s always one for you as well—right next to sukuna’s. it’s become a habit for the maids to include you in sukuna’s daily routines since you’re always with him.

you eye your own cushion, though don’t make an effort to actually sit down on it. sukuna stares ahead, not bothered to notice you at the moment. you look down at his lap, recalling just how perfectly you can fit on it.

you don’t waste any more time and plop down on his thick thighs, your back against his chest. sukuna’s brow twitches at the sudden contact. his bottom pair of eyes look down at you whilst the upper ones keep looking at the nature in front of you both.

“get off me,” the king of curses commands through a low tone. he doesn’t push you off, however. that alone should tell you enough; he’s tolerating your behaviour as per usual. or perhaps he secretly likes your proximity.

you shall never discover which of the two it actually is.

“nooooooo,” you exaggerate with a whine. you don’t want to. you wrap both of your arms around one of sukuna’s—clinging onto him like your life depends on it. he simply responds by sighing.

you know sukuna’s able to grab you by the collar and force you to sit down on the cushion beside him, but he doesn’t. your heart flutters every time sukuna shows some tolerance to your clingy behavior. it means that maybe—just maybe—he’s opening up to the idea of being more affectionate with you.

“such a fuckin’ brat,” sukuna simply puts one hand on your waist, the others supporting his weight on the engawa. he grumbles, but there are clear signs of him relaxing with you in his presence.

you chuckle at the realisation and swing your legs in excitement. sukuna unexpectedly bites your ear in response to your increased activity on his lap, “stay still or i’ll kick you off.”

you let out a small whimper as you feel his fangs gently sick into your earlobe. you jolt back and rub the skin with your hand, looking up at sukuna with a playful frown before teasing him back. you roll your eyes and answer him with a firm yet mocking, “sir yes, sir!”

sukuna clicks his tongue at your tease. you answer him like he’s some general in the military. that’s not the kind of relationship he has with you—it’s more than that. even though he knows you’re joking, he dislikes it when you call him anything other than ‘my lord’, ‘my king’, or just his name.

he finds great satisfaction in the way you refer to him as such. you’re the only one who can make sukuna grin each time you remind him of his status and the power he has over you.

the power dynamic; it’s addictive.

he needs more of it.

sukuna reaches out to grab your face with one hand, but you’re quick to pull your head back the moment you see that intimidatingly big hand coming down onto your vision. you clear your throat and apologise, “i mean—yes, my lord.”

the king of curses hums in content. that title is exactly what he had been looking for. he retracts his hand and settles it back down on your waist, patting your sides twice to show his satisfaction with your obedience.

you stop squirming around in his lap and simply lay back down in his arms. you close your eyes and nearly fall asleep because of the comfortable atmosphere. the slight breeze against your face is relaxing and perfectly compliments the warmth from sukuna’s body.

what a perfect way to spend your day.

[imaginedisish]

Close to You (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Oh my god. I got so carried away with this. It was not supposed to be this long. Anyway, here's the beach fic, y'all. This one is inspired by "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams...which is an absolute banger. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The team goes away on a weekend beach trip, and your pining for Logan comes to a head when you're forced to share a room...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!! Thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, soft!Logan, feelings, fluff, afab!reader/fem!reader, reader wears a bikini (no descriptions at all, though!), one bed trope (muahaha), friends to lovers, cursing, absolutely some grammatical errors bc this fic is so long, I think that's it!

Word Count: 6,577 this was so self indulgent

You step out onto the concrete and the salt in the air immediately coats your skin. The breeze is sticky and slightly humid, but it smells so good. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand, seagulls squawking above. Laughter on the boardwalk. Carnival music blaring from all the rides. It’s perfect—the sun is high, fluffy white clouds framing the endless blue sky.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Jubilee cheers, closing the car door as she slides out of the Jeep. 

Jean and Scott step out of their car, parked just up ahead, unloading their bags. “It’s so nice of the Professor to give us the weekend off!” Jean says excitedly, placing her bag down onto the sidewalk and wheeling it up to the porch of the house. “I can’t believe he rented this place for us.” It’s a yellow, two-story cottage with a lemonade porch, adorned with white shutters and a shingled roof.

Logan makes his way to the trunk of his Jeep, pulling out bag after bag. You rush to his side, reaching inside the trunk. “Let me help you,” you mumble as the rest of the team excitedly approaches the house. 

Logan smiles and shakes his head, reaching for the same bag you are. His fingertips brush yours as he takes the bag away, your heart beating in your chest at the sudden contact. “Don’t worry, princess,” he huffs, smirking as he places the bag down in front of you. Heat rises to your chest at the nickname. “Don’t lift a finger. Go inside and check out the place.” He nods his head towards the front door and grabs another bag. 

You smile, throwing your backpack over your shoulder, grabbing two bags, and carrying them to the front door in protest. “Gonna help you anyway,” you say over your shoulder. Logan chuckles as he closes the truck, grabbing the rest of the duffle bags and following behind you. 

He meets your side as you walk through the doors. The walls are pale blue, and the bottom halves are lined with white shiplap. Beechwood covers the floors. The living room is light and airy, white curtains floating through opened windows. The kitchen is off to the side, and to the back is a large open sunroom. Just straight ahead are the stairs. 

Jean and Scott settle some groceries on the counter as Jubilee, Kurt, Rogue, and Gambit head upstairs to see the bedrooms. 

“Hey, guys?” Jubilee calls from upstairs. You can tell by the sound of her voice that something is off. “I thought the Professor said there’d be six beds.”

Jean puts away a bag of chips and steps back into the living room, following Jubilee’s voice up the steps, and disappearing as her feet hit the landing. “How many are there?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Five,” Jubilee answers. “Three queens and two bunk beds, and Kurt and I took the bunks already.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says, shrugging her shoulders as she heads back downstairs. “We’ll all just be a little tight—closer quarters than usual.”

And that’s when it finally hits you. Three queen beds—and Kurt and Jubilee took the twin bunks. 

You’ll be sharing a room with Logan.

You turn to him and find that his eyes are already on you. “You okay sharing, princess?” He asks, nodding to the steps.

You swallow harshly, trying to mask your nervousness, hoping Logan can’t hear the way your heart beats out of your chest. “Yeah!” You say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Totally fine with it.”

He nods, smiling softly as he walks towards the steps, his bags in his hands. You follow behind him, the wood stairs creaking with every step you take. 

Jean was not exaggerating; the upstairs of the house is extremely small. There may be four bedrooms—but bedroom is a generous title. Each room is only large enough to hold a queen bed, a single dresser, and a small nightstand on either side of the bed. There’s little to no walking room. One of the rooms—Kurt and Jubilee’s—has just a bunk bed and a nightstand, with a tiny wardrobe in the corner. In the center of the tight hallway is a bathroom with a simple sink, toilet, and a stand-up shower. 

Logan steps into the first bedroom to the left of the stairs and puts his bags down on the ground. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, watching as you put your bags down next to his. “I can sleep on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, walking over to the window and taking in the view of the ocean. “Don’t worry,” you say, watching kids run across the sand, trying to distract yourself from how close Logan is to you in this tiny room. “We’re adults.” You turn to face him, fighting the urge to let your eyes trail up and down his body. “We can share.” Or at least, you hope you can. 

You can handle this for a weekend. You can force down your feelings—can ignore your massive crush on Logan for seventy-two hours. That’s all this is. A weekend trip. This is doable. You’ve been through so much worse than this. 

“If you change your mind, you can let me know,” Logan says, reaching his arm out towards your shoulder. His knuckles brush against your bare skin, and you let yourself lean into his touch. He’s warm, solid, cozy—

“Let’s go to the beach!” Jubilee interrupts, Logan’s hand falling from your shoulder instantly. “We didn’t come here to sit in a house all weekend, did we?” She jumps away from the door and runs down the stairs. 

 “Kid has a point,” Logan says, shrugging his shoulders and nodding towards the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling widely. “Already have my bathing suit on.” Logan smiles back and grabs your wrist, tugging you into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re sitting on the beach, watching as Jubilee and Kurt splash each other recklessly in the water. Jean sits in a chair, reading a book, while Scott lays on a beach towel, eyes likely closed behind his glasses. Rogue and Gambit walk down the shoreline, hand in hand.

Logan stands up from the beach blanket you share, tugging his beater up and over his head. “I’m going in,” he says, just to you. “Wanna come?” He reaches out his hand again, the same hand that tugged you the whole way here. You bite your lip, nerves building in your stomach again. “Come on,” Logan says, smirking. “I don’t bite.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you take his hand, standing up. You let go and tug your shorts down your legs. You look up at Logan as your fingertips find the hem of your tank top, his eyes trained firmly on you. Your stomach somersaults as you pull your shirt up your body, revealing your bikini top, knowing Logan is watching. 

Logan’s throat bobs as he swallows. He nods towards the ocean, wordlessly grabbing your hand again and tugging you along. 

The waves lap at your ankles, and you force yourself into the cold water. Logan seemingly has no problem at all, pulling you along from a few feet ahead. The water is already up to his hips. He looks behind at you, all wide-eyed and happy. 

“You’re not afraid, are you?” He teases, squeezing your hand tighter. Your heart drums against your ribcage at the feeling. He’s never held your hand like this. You try to shove down your feelings, to brush away how having him this close makes you feel, but nothing changes. You want him all the same. 

You take a deep breath and shake your head as the cold water barrels against the middle of your thighs. “No,” you protest. “I’m just freezing.” 

Logan smiles wider. “You gotta get all the way in!” He tugs you further, pulling you closer to him so that you’re shoulder to shoulder. You can’t tell if it’s the icy waves or your proximity to Logan that makes your heart freeze in your chest, that makes you crave the warmth of his body. You want to be close to him. You want him to pull you into his chest and hold you. 

“Do I have to?” You ask playfully, a half-smile turning up at the corner of your mouth. 

He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, dropping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. You choke on your own breath as he guides you further into the water. “You okay?” He asks. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your stomach. Goosebumps pebble your flesh. Finally, Logan guides you all the way into the water, up to your shoulders. It’s a surprisingly calm day—the waves easy and gentle. 

Logan lets go of your waist and treads water, slipping underneath the dark blue current and coming back up—his hair wet, drops of water dripping down his face and neck. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips at the sight. 

“Your turn,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes half shut as he swims towards you. 

Your smile drops as you swim away. Logan grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him. You yelp as he tugs you closer. You turn around and splash him playfully, freeing yourself from his grasp as he wipes the salt water off his face. 

You laugh, still backing away from Logan. He creeps forward, assessing you like an animal stalks its prey. “You’re not getting away that easy, pretty girl,” he huffs. 

What was that? Your eyes widen as those last two words repeat in your head. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice him closing the gap between the two of you. Suddenly his hands are on your hips, dragging you into his chest. 

His grip is like iron around your waist, keeping you in place, your hips pressed to his, your chests touching lightly. You don’t feel the coldness of the water anymore—you can’t feel anything except Logan. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. The world stopped long ago, his arms wrapping around your back now, pulling you closer. The playfulness of the moment disappears—this is something else, something more serious. Logan brings his face closer to yours, his lips just centimeters away. This is it, you think to yourself. The moment when everything finally changes—

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from the beach. Logan’s eyes fall closed—an almost defeated look painting across his face. Your head whips to the sand, and the team is standing by the beach chairs. Jubilee waves you and Logan over. “We’re going to the boardwalk! Come on!”

Logan opens his eyes. You think he’s going to push you away, to let you go, but he only holds you tighter. “Give us a second!” He shouts, frustration clear in his voice. 

But Jubilee crosses her arms against her chest. Scott chuckles and walks ahead with Jean. Gambit and Rogue look at each other knowingly, and Kurt teleports to the edge of the water. 

“And just like that…” Logan murmurs, half to himself, half to you. “Moment ruined.” 

You tilt your head, the implication of his words wracking your brain. “What do you mean—” 

But Logan is pulling you along with him to the shore before you can finish asking for clarification. His arms drop from your waist, his hand grabbing yours to guide you onto the sand. He bends down, picking up your shorts and top from the beach blanket the team left out, and passing them to you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, your hands parting as he shoves his beater up and over his head. Once you’re dressed, flip-flops and all, you join the team and make your way up to the boardwalk. 

Gambit is talking with Logan about something just ahead, trailing on and on, clearly irritating Logan, while Rogue falls back to walk with you. 

“So,” she says softly, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. “What’s going on there, sugar?” She asks, smirking. 

You furrow your brows, trying to hide your smile. “Nothing that I know of,” you say, somewhat honestly. This might be nothing—might just be a friend teasing another friend. A friend whose lips were just inches from yours, so close that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. A friend who dug his fingers into your waist to pull you closer to his—

“Nothing, huh?” She asks, snapping you back to reality. “Because I think he would’ve kissed you if Jubilee didn’t interrupt,” she whispers so only you can hear. 

Heat rises to your chest at her words. “I don’t know. We’re just friends…” You trail off. 

“We’ll see about that, sugar,” Rogue says, walking ahead, tearing Gambit away from Logan. Logan’s shoulders visibly relax once Gambit is gone, and he looks back at you, slowing his steps so that you can meet his side. 

“Hi,” he husks, smiling down at you. 

You smile back, the warmth of his hand suddenly spreading across your lower back. It’s gentle, the ghost of a touch, almost not quite there—more tentative than in the ocean when it felt like no one was watching. But it’s solid and centering all the same. 

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Jubilee suggests, holding out the ticket booklet that Jean and Scott ran ahead to buy. She tears out tickets—three for each person. Jean and Scott hold hands and walk to the front of the line. Rogue leans over to Jubilee, whispering something into her ear that makes her eyes widen. She nods and pairs off with Kurt. Rogue turns around and winks at you while Logan isn’t looking. 

You look up at him and see that he’s staring off at the sun slowly setting. Pink, orange, and red erupt in the sky, the colors blending, painting across the wispy clouds. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” you say as the others climb into the Ferris wheel gondolas in pairs. 

Logan smirks, his eyes finding yours as you approach the front of the line. “Looks like it, pretty girl,” he husks. There it is again. Pretty girl. The ride attendant slows down the wheel, and you and Logan slip inside the gondola. You think maybe he’ll sit across from you, but he sits next to you instead. 

The attendant closes the door of the gondola, and the ride starts up. Once you’re off the ground, Logan slips his arm around your shoulder, his palm warm against your bare skin. “This okay?” He asks, his lips at the shell of your ear. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as his thumb brushes gentle circles into your arm. You let your head rest in the crook of his neck, and he leans against you, fitting together like puzzle pieces. 

It’s silent communication—knowing, but not saying. You can feel his intention as his arm tugs you closer, his lips at the crown of your head. Your heart beats out of your chest—for the millionth time today—and you know he can hear it. 

You reach the top of the Ferris wheel and look out at the ocean, the sun hitting the water, turning the blue waves to gold. “It’s beautiful,” you mumble, the current rippling against the shore, glistening vibrantly like the ocean figured out alchemy. 

Logan chuckles softly. “I can think of something prettier, you know,” he husks, his lips still pressed into the crown of your head. Your heart thumps in your chest at his words. You lift your head, looking up at him.

His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing upon his lips. “Logan, I—”

But the gondola comes to a sudden stop, and the door to the car swings open. You’re already back on the ground. The attendant crosses his arms, waiting for you and Logan to get out. Logan rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and helping you back onto the boardwalk. The team is already off the ride, waiting for the two of you at the exit.

“Why don’t we play some games and then head back to the house for the night?” Scott suggests, his arm wrapped around Jean’s waist. 

Jubilee smiles widely. “Yes! I wanna play the game where you throw the lobster into the pot!”

“Gambit’s gonna win chere a prize,” Gambit drawls, tugging Rogue into his chest. “The biggest one Gambit can find.” Rogue giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Jubilee and Kurt run off to the other side of the boardwalk, immediately finding the lobster-pot game. Jean and Scott follow behind, making sure they don’t get into trouble. Rogue and Gambit go out on their own, heading toward the ring toss game. 

You and Logan are left alone. Again. Surely everyone is doing this on purpose. “What do you wanna play?” You ask, nodding towards the array of games lined up on the opposite side of the boardwalk. 

His eyes meet yours, flitting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” You smile, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards balloon darts. 

You approach the booth, and Logan pulls out his wallet, handing a five-dollar bill to the woman running the game. She slides a cup of five darts towards you and Logan, and steps off to the side, away from the balloons. Logan watches as you grab a dart and throw, completely missing the balloon you were aiming for. You groan, rolling your eyes, and grab another dart. 

“Here,” Logan rasps, standing behind you. He holds your hand in his, lining the dart up to a balloon. His other arm wraps around your waist, the front of his hips pressing into your back. “Like this,” he murmurs, pulling your hand back. You let go of the dart when he thrusts forward. The dart pierces a balloon, the pop echoing through the booth. 

You look up at him, his face close to yours, and smile. He grabs another dart, his eyes still focused on you, and throws without looking away, popping another balloon. “Now you’re just showing off,” you say teasingly as your smile grows wider. He grabs another dart, aiming at a bigger balloon this time, and pierces it with ease. 

“Gotta win you a prize, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing the last dart from the cup, and tossing it across the booth, directly into the biggest balloon on the board. It pops—of course—and the game attendant’s jaw drops. 

She shakes her head, walking over to the bigger prizes. “Never seen anyone do that before…” she trails off, pointing to the giant plushies. “You can pick any of these.”

Logan’s arm sneakily wraps around your waist as he waits for you to pick between a giant fox, panda, or dolphin. “The fox, definitely the fox,” you decide. 

The attendant grabs the fox and pulls it down, handing it to you. You squeeze it to your chest, Logan’s grip on your waist tightening. “He’s so cute!” You giggle, looking up at Logan, who’s guiding you towards the edge of the boardwalk. “Thank you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head and looks out towards the water. “It was nothing,” he says, his arm still around your waist as you lean against the railing of the boardwalk. The sun is falling behind the horizon, stars rising in the sky. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he turns to face you. “Listen…” He starts, his jaw working as his grip on your waist falls away, his forearms bracing on the railing. Your shoulder presses against his, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking…” But he pauses again, his eyes searching yours. 

“We ready to head back to the house?” Scott asks, interrupting the conversation. Logan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he leans forward. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Logan mutters, thinking you can’t hear him, resting his head against the railing. 

Jubilee grabs your arm, holding up her little stuffed teddy bear. “Look what I won!” Her smile drops when she sees your giant fox. “Oh my god, my bear is nothing compared to that! That thing is massive!”

You smirk, glancing over at Logan. “Wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for him.” Logan lifts his head and smiles sheepishly at you. 

The moon rises high in the quickly darkening sky. You’re not quite sure where the day went. Everything happened so quickly—the hours spent on the sand, Logan tugging you into the water. It was perfect. Beyond perfect. And now it was time to head back. 

The team treks down the boardwalk and onto the street, trailing a few blocks before arriving back at the house. You and Logan walk shoulder to shoulder the whole way there, leading at the front of the group. Logan grabs the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and you all head inside. 

Jubilee and Kurt run into the kitchen scavenging for snacks. Gambit and Rogue crash onto the living room couch. 

“We’re gonna head to bed,” Scott says, Jean following him up the stairs. “Night, guys.” Everyone mutters soft goodnights in response, and a comfortable silence falls upon the house. 

“Gonna steal the upstairs shower before they get to it,” you whisper to Logan, nodding to Jubilee and Kurt. 

He smirks. “I’ll shower down here,” he says back. “See you upstairs?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer, suddenly remembering that you’re sharing not just a room with Logan, but a bed. You walk away and head upstairs, grabbing your pajamas from your duffle bag and making your way to the bathroom.

You turn on the water and undress. The shower is warm and relaxing, releasing the tension you had spent the entire day holding in. But the peace is temporary—your thoughts drift off to Logan. You imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, waiting for you to join him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you try to ignore the heat growing at the bottom of your belly. Maybe you should’ve taken a cold shower instead. 

You finish up in the shower, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. You reach for your pajamas, only to realize you forgot your bottoms and your bra. You step into your panties and shrug your oversized band t-shirt over your head. You push the bathroom door open just a crack, and seeing no one in the hallway, you make a break for it, tip-toeing to your room. You slip inside and shut the door. 

Logan coughs from behind you, and you whip around. “S-sorry,” he stutters, standing up from the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless, just like you imagined he’d be, wearing only a pair of boxers. His hair is still damp from his shower. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off. “No, no,” you assure. “It’s totally fine.” You’re worried you sound too eager, too focused on making sure he stays. You clear your throat nervously, stepping towards your duffle bag. You lean down, hoping your t-shirt is still covering your ass as you rifle through your belongings. You groan when you finally realize you forgot to pack pajama shorts. You stand up and make your way around to the left side of the bed.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, following suit and walking to the right side of the bed. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I, um…” You trail off, motioning towards your duffle bag. “I forgot pajama bottoms,” you finally spit out. “If you’re uncomfortable or—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off this time. “I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

You smile, climbing into the bed and slipping under the covers, and Logan does the same. He rolls onto his side and turns off the lamp—the only light on in the room. The space is engulfed in darkness save for the pale light of the moon pushing through the curtains. 

You take a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you can comprehend. You could simply turn away from Logan, but you’re too anxious to move. Your stomach somersaults as his knee brushes against your thigh. You force your eyes shut, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Logan mumbles into the dark room, shuffling under the covers. “You okay?”

You swallow harshly, humming a soft mhm, too distracted to form a complete sentence. 

“I know you aren’t telling the truth, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, his hand finding your waist. “I can sleep on the couch, if you—”

“No,” you protest, the words escaping your lips almost uncontrollably. “It’s f-fine,” you stammer. “I’m fine.”

He chuckles darkly. “Then what’s got you so worked up, huh?” Oh. He knows. He has to know. You can hear it in his voice. 

“N-nothing,” you lie, your eyes fluttering open. Logan is closer to you now, his fingertips trailing down to your thighs, to the hem of your shirt. 

“Relax,” Logan husks, his hand slipping back up your body and settling on your waist. He tugs you closer to him. “This okay?” He asks, and you hum a quiet yes. You can feel the tension thickening, feel it readying to snap. He breaks the silence. “Thought about this all day, you know.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Th-this?” You ask, your legs tangling with his. 

“Being alone with you,” Logan rasps. Your shirt hikes up as he pulls you into his chest. “Wanted to get you alone earlier,” he says, his hand sliding back down your body, playing with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingertips drag along your stomach. 

You curse under your breath, Logan’s forehead pressing against yours. “Logan,” you whisper, his name the only thing you can think of. You’re sure he can smell the arousal building between your thighs. 

“There’s no going back from this. You know that, don’t you?” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips. He’s so close, his thigh pushing between your legs, bumping against your core. 

“Yes,” you sigh. “Don’t wanna go back.” 

Your eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by how close Logan is to you. “Good,” he breathes. “Because you have no idea how much I need you.” 

His lips crash against yours, his thigh dragging along your core. You moan into his mouth, his tongue swiping across your lower lip. You part your lips, inviting him inside, his tongue tasting yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, involuntarily bucking your hips, grinding down on his thigh. “N-need you too.”

“I know, beautiful,” he soothes, gripping your waist, rolling you onto your back, pushing you into the mattress. “Fucking thought about you all day, always thinking about you.” He slides your shirt up above your tits, drinking you in with his eyes. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.” He hovers over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand explores your body.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he palms your left breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and then doing the same to the other side. It’s dizzying having him this close. You can smell his body wash—notes of musk and pine and a hint of leather on his skin. 

“Please,” you beg, not quite sure what you’re even begging for. All you know is how badly you want him—need him. 

Logan buries his face into the crook of your neck as his thumb rolls over your nipple, biting down on your pulse point and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips. “Please what, darlin’?” He mumbles, continuing his assault on your neck. 

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your hips rocking against Logan’s. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That what you want?” Logan teases, his hand pushing between your legs, his fingertips finding your clit through your panties. “What if I wanted to taste you first?”

“W-whatever you want,” you moan, grinding down onto his hand. “I’m yours.”

He lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead to yours. “Whatever I want?” His voice is thick, cocky, almost mocking. “You’re mine,” he husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck. “All fucking mine.” He crawls down your body, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your panties. 

Your hips lift off the mattress as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, throwing them to the floor. He nestles between your thighs, his breath hot against your cunt. You tremble in anticipation, watching as he breathes you in, his jaw working. You can see in his eyes that he’s holding himself back. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft, his cockiness replaced by genuine care. "Not gonna be able to stop once I start.” But you know he doesn’t just mean in the moment, right now—he means forever. 

“I’m sure, Lo,” you whine. It comes out like a prayer, like a desperate cry, a guilty plea. 

And then he buries his face into your heat, his tongue swiping through your folds. He grunts against you, flicking your clit before stroking his tongue through your folds again. “Fuck,” Logan groans, his face pressing harder into you, his tongue exploring your cunt. “Tastes better than I ever imagined,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice pulsing against your core. “So fucking sweet.”

Your hips jolt away from him as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. His palms quickly slide under your legs, wrapping around your thighs, yanking you back to his face, and holding you down onto the mattress. “Don’t move, princess,” he chides, his nails digging into your flesh. “Wanna eat this pretty pussy.” 

“L-Lo,” you stutter as his tongue draws tight, rapid circles around your clit. You’re already close, his teasing words enough to push you over the edge. But you know he’s nowhere near done—he’s only getting started. 

His right hand loosens its grip around your thigh, his nails dragging down the curve of your ass and towards your folds. His fingertips prod your slit, spreading your slick. “So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” he praises, his lips wrapping around your clit, his teeth grazing the bud lightly as he sucks. “Want my fingers?” He asks, knowing your answer, but wanting to hear you beg for him. 

“Yes, Logan, please. Need—” 

He’s thrusting two long, thick fingers deep inside you before you can finish your sentence. “Fuck,” he whispers, pulling out and pumping back in—down to his knuckles. He stills inside you, letting you adjust to him. “So goddamn tight.” His tongue laps at your clit. “Gonna have to work you open for me, hm?” He mutters, thrusting in and out now. 

You’re so overwhelmed, your swollen clit already overstimulated. He wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking harder this time, his fingers unrelenting as they plunge deeper with every pump. His tongue draws long, hard strokes around your bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

It feels like a wildfire is spreading through your veins, a current dragging you under and holding you down. Warmth blossoms in your belly. “Doing so good for me, beautiful,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you. Your walls flutter around him at his words, sucking him in deeper. “Know you’re close, pretty girl.”

“Logan,” you moan, his tongue drawing those tight circles around your clit again. He’s adding more pressure, his fingers dragging along your walls, scissoring inside you, splitting you in two. “Please, need to come…” You trail off, your back arching off the mattress, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

“Come for me,” Logan demands, his voice dark and filled with lust. “Wanna know what it tastes like.” His tongue presses harder into your clit, his fingers rocking in and out of your entrance. “Wanna see that pretty face when you let go.” 

And then the tension breaks, white-hot heat pouring freely from the bottom of your belly. Your vision goes blurry as Logan laps at your clit, his fingers still pumping in and out, working you through your high. You moan his name, pleasure ripping through your body in intense waves. 

His pumps relax, his fingers stilling inside you before he finally pulls out. His face is still buried against your cunt, licking long stripes through your folds. He’s savoring the taste of your release, drinking every last drop you have to give. “Can’t get enough of you,” he husks. “Could do this forever.” 

He licks one last long stripe through your folds before lifting his face from your cunt. He’s a mess—your release glistening on his chin, his hair disheveled, his boxers all wrinkled. Your heart beats in your chest at the sight. All this, just for you. 

Logan crawls up your body, hovering over you again, lowering down onto his forearm. “Wanna fuck you, beautiful,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. “Wanna know what you feel like.” His hand slips between your legs, his fingertips finding your swollen clit and giving it a gentle pinch. Your hips buck against him at the sudden sensation. 

“Wanna feel you too,” you whimper, your arms wrapping around his back. “Want you inside me, please.” 

And then he’s tugging his boxers down his legs, his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh. You can’t see—but you can feel just how massive he is. His tip slides through your folds, spreading your arousal. 

“You know how bad I need you?” Logan whispers, his lips finding yours. He bites your lower lip and kisses away the pain. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” And then he sinks himself inside you, down to the hilt with one smooth, fluid thrust. “Thought about this every day since I met you.” 

Your muscles release and contract at his words. His hips stall, letting you adjust to the size of him. You feel indescribably full. He’s splitting you open, stretching you out, claiming you as his. His hips pull back, his cock sliding out, and he plunges back in, somehow deeper this time. 

“Th-thought about you too,” you stutter, already too fucked out to form a coherent thought. “Always wanted you.” Logan sets a reckless pace as his fingertips find your clit again, working long, languid strokes into the bud, teasing you, leading you on. 

“You feel so perfect,” Logan praises, rocking into you, his cock dragging along your walls. “So fucking warm, so tight. Made for me.” His lips are on yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, swallowing your moans. “Never gonna want anybody else, pretty girl.”

His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit faster now. “Just want you, Lo,” you choke, the tension building at the bottom of your belly, a fire burning through your bones. “Only want you.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice suddenly soft, contrasting with the way he pounds into you recklessly, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every pump of his cock. “It’s you, just you.” You can hear the emotion in his voice, the sincerity, the desperation, the aching longing. 

Your chest heaves against his. He’s fucking you to get closer to you, to be as deep inside you as possible. This isn’t just sex—this isn’t just some tension that needs to be broken. It’s an invisible string keeping the two of you tied closely together. Maybe it was stitched by the Fates centuries ago, laid out carefully, a plan to be executed. Maybe everything that led you to this moment was always meant to be. Because here you are now, his lips soft and hungry against yours, his words tearing through your resolve, his cock buried deep inside you, searching for a way to get deeper. And all you can think is…

This is it. This is what people mean when they talk about love—that word that changes its meaning every time you say it. The word with a definition that always escapes you. You know what it means now. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, that fire in your belly spreading through your body as he rams into you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing along the walls of the tiny room. His fingers press harder into your clit, pinching softly, and then circling again. 

His cock twitches inside you. “Me too, beautiful,” he hums, his pace growing sloppier, his cock throbbing again. “You’re so perfect,” he praises. “Love you so much, pretty girl.”

And then the tension snaps, electricity buzzing through your nerve endings, fire prickling your skin as you melt into him. “Love you too, Lo.” Your muscles contract and release, squeezing around him, coming undone. 

Your walls clench around him again, and you know it’ll be the thing that pushes him over the edge. “Fuck, wanna come inside you,” he pants.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Please,” you beg, and with one more thrust he’s painting your walls, filling you up and letting go. 

You share one breath, panting, foreheads pressed together as Logan’s pumps slow, his cock stalling inside you. His fingers slip away from your clit, his arms reaching under your back as he carefully pulls out. You feel empty without him inside you. 

“Y-you can stay inside, if you want,” you offer as Logan rolls you onto your side, pulling you into his chest. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Is that what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his lips pressing to your nose now. 

“Yes,” you whisper. He swallows harshly as one of his hands slides down your body, hiking your leg up and over his hip. He lines his half-hard cock up with your entrance, his lips finding yours as he slides back in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being full of him again. 

He groans as he bottoms out. “So fucking good,” he praises, his arms wrapping around your back again, tugging you into his chest. 

You lay in comfortable silence, listening as Logan’s breathing becomes rhythmic. Your eyes grow heavy, and you bury your face into Logan’s chest. You can hear his heart beating.

“Love you,” he mumbles against the crown of your head. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice, the exhaustion. 

“Love you too,” you whisper, your breathing matching his, like you’re no longer two separate people, but one.

He presses a kiss to your head. “So lucky I met you,” he huffs. You smile against him. “So lucky I finally figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” You ask, looking up at him. 

He smiles down at you. “What love is supposed to feel like...” He trails off, and you watch as he chooses his next words. “What living is supposed to feel like.” 

You can feel tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away. “Me too, Lo,” you whisper, pausing…

“Me too.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @fanfic-writing-barbie @pedrohoe04 @cosmiccandydreamer @movhoney @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @maniuplatour *as always, I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you*

[joelsgoldrush]

“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind. 

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later. 

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words. 

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?” 

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out. 

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

 Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture. 

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them. 

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable. 

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position. 

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes. 

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know. 

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell.  It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more.  He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration. 

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[99020448]

OMFG. THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE BEST SUKUNA SERIES I HAVE EVER READ. I LOVE HOW HE IS STILL O CLOE TO HI ORIGINAL CHARACTER AND HOW SMOOTHLY THE TRANSITION FROM HIM BEING EVIL TO BECOME SO SOFT AND HUMAN FOR THE MAIN CHARACTER IS. TO TAKE SUCH A DIFFICULT AND CRUEL CHARACTER AND TO TRANSITION THEM LIKE THIS WITHOUT FALTER OR HICK UPS IS AMAZING. IM FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM MORE AND MORE EACH CHAPTER. ALSO IF I COULD GET ADDED TO THIS TAG LIST, I WOULD CRY BECAUSE IM SO IN LOVE WOTH THIS CHARACTER AND HIS DEVELOPMENT. AND IM NOT TEYING TO TELL YOU HOW TO WRITE IT BUT IF THERE IS EVER A CHANCE OF THERE HEING A SCENE WHERE SHE GETS TO SEE HOW CRAZY HE GOES, WHETHER ITS DUE TO HER GETTING HURT OR JUST TO PROTECT HER OR SOMETHING, I WOULD GO ABSOLUTELY FERAL.

i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend

sukuna x reader summary: you persuade sukuna to play go fish. the two of you have a small disagreement (he really can't stay mad at you). he confides in you about his past as a sorcerer. w/c: 3.4k tags/warnings: the teeniest bit of angst. mostly fluff. banter. cursing. aged up!yuuji. slight yuuji x reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: the first section could be read as a brief(ish) stand alone. and for context, the world's shortest frankenstein synopsis: victor frankenstein brings a creature to life using dead body parts and thrusts him into a world he doesn't understand, then promptly abandons him and wishes him dead. alone and regarded as repulsive by every human he comes across, the creature begs frankenstein to create a wife for him too. when frankenstein refuses, the creature is further driven to hatred and violence. series masterlist // masterlist

"we should play a card game!" you exclaim as if you've just had the world's greatest idea.

"i'll pass."

sukuna sounds listless, like it's quite possibly the worst proposition he's ever heard.

"why's that? scared i'll beat you?"

"i'm opposed to mind numbing boredom, more like."

"you really need to expand your horizons," you suggest, making your way over to where you keep your playing cards. "all you do is read and brood."

"it's gotten me this far."

you don't respond, too busy rifling through your bookshelf. just as you spot your cards, a book catches your eye and you pull it from its place.

making your way back over to him, you drop it in his lap. "since you found jane eyre so insufferable, here's one you might actually like."

he surveys the cover, which reads: frankenstein or the modern prometheus

you take a seat across from him at the kotatsu table and shuffle the deck, while sukuna flips through the pages with new found intrigue.

"what's it about?"

"the dangers of playing god. should be right up your alley."

"your subtly never ceases to amaze."

"i'm just kidding." you laugh. "there's a lot more to it than that— revenge, loneliness, personal responsibility..."

he turns the book over. "it's written by a woman?"

you raise your eyebrows at him. "what, you don't think women have enough depth to write about those kinds of topics?"

"no, it was just an observation," he says off handedly. "you are evidence enough to the contrary."

he doesn't say it as a compliment, more so as a statement of fact. you hope your astonishment isn't written all over your face.

clearing your throat, you begin dealing while explaining the rules to him.

he takes up his cards and seems to understand the game after only a turn or two, but you're narrowing your eyes at him soon thereafter.

"go fish," he says for the fourth time in a row.

your gaze shifts down to his hands. there's just no way. "show me your cards."

"wouldn't that defeat the purpose of this stupid game?"

"not if you're cheating, now let me see."

"no."

you reach across the table, hoping to snatch them from his grasp, but he just holds them out of your reach.

swiftly rising to your feet, you launch yourself at him in a sad attempt to catch him off guard.

with only one arm extended, he easily fends off your attack. "do you actually think you have a chance here?"

you sink to your knees in defeat and sit with your legs folded beneath you. "not really, but i have to know if you'd stoop this low."

"that so? had you believed me to be above cheating?"

you gasp. "so you admit it?"

"i told you i didn't want to play," he deadpans.

"that doesn't mean you had to cheat! now we have to start over!"

he carelessly tosses the cards onto the table. "i don't think so."

"please?" you lean forward, jutting out ur bottom lip.

he just stares at you with an air of disinterest.

sukuna can be so haughty sometimes, and frankly, it drives you a little crazy. you'd give anything to wipe that look from his face— to prove that he doesn't find this as miserable as he lets on.

leaning forward even further, your hands meet with the carpet to support your shifting weight. now he's watching intently as your face approaches his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

unbeknownst to you, sukuna's breath catches in his throat once he sees your gaze shift, though his mind struggles to catch up. it happens so fast that he hardly registers the quick peck you place on his lips (though maybe it's not the speed of the occurrence, so much as his shock).

"please?" you repeat.

he looks off to the side and stays silent, though his demeanor is indicative of some heated internal debate.

sukuna can't let you win, not that easily. you'd be under the impression that you actually have power over him! and for what? some measly kiss?

no, he simply will not allow that. "i already told you—"

grabbing him by the chin, you cut off his words with another kiss, but this time it lasts a few beats longer. your lips don't move against his, they just linger there in a way that that makes him question whether all of the oxygen has vanished from the room.

when you pull away, you're looking at him expectantly with the same pout still playing on your lips.

"fine!" he barks, grumbling something afterwards that sounds a lot like "evil little minx."

"human earthworm two is definitely still the best."

you're walking home with yuuji after a late night showing of the newest movie in the series.

"no way," you contend. "this one was even better."

he gawks at you. "in no world is the seventh film in an anthology the best! you're crazy—"

sukuna's mouth appears, always eager for a chance to undermine his vessel. "she's right, brat."

yuuji can't believe his ears. "what?! you haven't even seen it!"

"i don't know," you interject slyly. "i'm willing to look past that. it really seems like he knows what he's talking about."

"you mean the guy who's existence predates cinema?" yuuji asks, his eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to him. "what'd you do all day anyway? watch plays?"

"..among other things, yes." sukuna answers.

"if you look at it logically," you reason, "we probably wouldn't have movies without theater, so we should definitely consider him an expert in this case."

"oh please, baby. when the topic is ancient civilization or being a homicidal maniac, i'll be sure to solicit his opinion then."

"i resent that," sukuna declares, his conviction forcing a giggle from your lips.

"why?" you question. "was it the part where he called you old as shit, or the part where he called you a murderous lunatic?"

yuuji brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a snort, but you're freely laughing now.

sukuna scoffs indignantly and bites back a comment about how partial you seem to be toward said lunatic. "and to think i defended your opinion."

his response has you clutching at your sides and struggling to see through teary eyes.

but perhaps karma is real, because not a moment later you, you step off the curb in a way that sends a sharp sensation through your leg.

you gasp in pain and brace yourself for the impact of falling to the concrete, but it never comes. instead, you're left with fingers clamped tightly around your wrist and a strange sense of deja vu.

you turn your head just before the dark lines fade from yuuji's arm completely.

"tch, watch where you're going idiot," sukuna scolds, his mouth disappearing as soon as he finishes speaking.

"are you okay?" yuuji asks worriedly.

"absolutely," you claim, but when you try to put weight on your left foot, you let out a hiss.

yuuji's hands find your waist, hoping to keep you steady. before you know it, he's crouching in front of you with his back turned and beckoning you to wrap your arms around his neck.

once you do, he hooks his arms under your thighs and easily stands up. "this okay? you comfy?"

"yeah. i can't believe i just did that." you hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. "thanks, yu."

when you get home, yuuji sets you up on the couch with icepacks, heating pads, three different drinks, two different books, and the tv remote.

he still asks if you have everything you need several times, then kisses you sweetly before heading to bed.

around thirty minutes later, sukuna's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"hey," you greet. your eyes never leave the tv, as you're privy to the slight tension between the both of you.

he skips the evening's pleasantries. "i could heal it, you know."

you finally turn to face him. "really?"

"of course." he rolls his eyes. "some of us can actually use reverse cursed technique."

"and you've just let me hobble around the past hour anyway?"

he shrugs. "you pissed me off."

you blink at him a few times, rubbing at your temples. "well what about now?"

"i don't know," he begins, making his way over to you. he towers over where you're seated on the couch, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. "just doesn't really seem like something a homicidal maniac would do, but maybe if he were to receive an apology..."

you cover your face with your hands and groan. "i didn't say that. this is really something you should take up with yuuji—"

"i don't make a habit of conversing with the brat, so if that's the way you're going to be..." he turns on his heel and starts for the bedroom, but you grab onto his sleeve just before he's out of reach.

"wait. please don't go."

just like that, your words have his resolve crumbling and any of his lingering irritation ebbs away. he urges himself to stay strong though, especially after the go fish debacle.

when he doesn't speak, you let out a breath.

"i'm sorry, sukuna." he can tell right away that you're being entirely sincere. "i would never purposefully hurt your feelings. i only meant to tease you, but i can see how i was being mean."

are those... are those tears swimming in your eyes? are you in that much pain, or did he just make you feel that badly? in any case, he endeavors to remedy it immediately.

moving around the couch until he's in front of you, sukuna kneels between your legs. he grabs your left foot gingerly, situating it on his thigh before hovering his hand over top of it.

he sighs. "i don't care if you tease me and you weren't being.. mean." the words sounds so juvenile to him.

you weren't necessarily wrong either, goes unsaid.

well, he'd like to consider himself a little more sophisticated than 'maniac' would imply, but that's beside the point.

"then why are you upset with me?"

his jaw flexes as he tries to find the right words. "i would prefer you do that when it's just.. us."

"oh." realization dawns on you, as does another heap of guilt. you know he despises being trapped in yuuji's body, and you completely failed to consider how ganging up on him might make him feel. "i'm... fuck. i'm really sorry, sukuna—"

"stop apologizing," he urges you in a low voice. it's partly because what he just said makes him feel pathetic, but more than that, it's because the look of self reproach you're wearing is akin to a thousand needles in his chest. "it's fine."

he can't believe you're sitting there with so much remorse over a man like him because you... what? wounded his pride?

he probably deserves it anyway.

why should you give a shit when he's done things a thousand times worse, a million different times?

oh, right. because you care about him.

you can't see the cursed energy at play, but you can tell it's working as your pain begins to dissipate.

once he's finished, he carefully moves your foot to the floor and looks up at you. it's not unlike the way a person might gaze at one of the wonders of the world, like they're lucky to be there in the first place.

with the intensity of his gaze, it feels like he can see right into your head— read your every thought and pick apart every emotion. has anyone ever looked at you like that before? you're having a hard time remembering. you're having a hard time thinking of anything at all, really.

so it goes without saying that you don't think about it when you lean forward and kiss him.

it's not at all like when you were trying to convince him to play cards. no, this isn't light hearted or frivolous.

and it's not like the other two kisses you've shared either. it isn't heated or desperate, nor does it leave you gasping for air.

it's tender. it's so fucking tender, in fact, that sukuna wonders whether he's going to crumble beneath your touch.

he grips the area just above your knees, as if needing something to tether himself to before he withers away completely.

his lips move with yours in a way that's slow and careful.

your hands are on either side of his face, ghosting over his skin as a testament to your hesitance— like you're not certain if this is something he would want.

he wonders how in the world you could ever second guess yourself.

when you pull back, you examine his face for a moment before a small, shy smile tugs at your lips and you murmur, "thanks 'kuna."

he just peers at you wordlessly and it makes you nervous, so you attempt to fill the silence. "it feels so much better. a-and i'm sorry again abo—"

his hand finds your the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his for a moment longer. "don't mention it, angel."

ever since you gave sukuna your copy of frankenstein, he's spent a decent portion of your nights together reading, his brows drawn together in concentration.

upon finishing, he stares at the page after reading the final line: "he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance."

he's deathly quiet and wearing some unreadable expression. his eyes seem far off.

you leave him be for a little while, as it's clear he's lost in thought, but eventually you grow a bit concerned. it's been nearly half an hour since he last moved.

"sukuna?"

he turns to you. "why did you think i would enjoy this particular book?"

you consider his question carefully, his mood evoking your own seriousness. "it's... elegant and tragic. i guess i appreciate the moral grayness of it. why do you ask?"

"no reason."

"did you enjoy it?"

"yes."

"why?"

he ignores your question. "frankenstein— do you like his character?"

you can't help but feel like you're answering some sort of riddle. "i think he's foolish and arrogant, but i guess i pity him to some degree."

"and the creature?"

"i'm much more sympathetic toward him. he's very... complex and certainly less culpable for the events of the novel than his creator."

you're surprised when he laughs. "of course you would think that way."

and with that, he's flipping through the pages of the novel. you move to sit next to him and once he finds what he's looking for near the middle, he begins reading:

"remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. but i will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, and i will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. remember that i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywhere i see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous.”

his voice is strangely even, almost bordering on robotic. you're struck with the notion that he's attempting (with rare difficulty) to mask his emotions.

you regard him quizzically and wait for him to speak. the last thing you expect to hear tumbles from his lips.

"you know they called me the disgraced one?" you nod. "do you know why?"

"i know the story that sorcerers have passed down."

he hums. leaning back into the couch, he looks fixedly at the ceiling before continuing. "i was just a boy when i was orphaned and no one knew anything about my heritage, including me. jujutsu society took me in and raised me as a sorcerer."

"and you didn't care for it?"

"oh, quite the opposite. i reveled in it. my strength was unprecedented, that much was clear from the start. i surpassed my teachers with ease, and eventually, i took to training alone— reading primitive texts and honing skills that they couldn't teach me."

your hand finds his thigh, hoping to offer him some consolation before beckoning him to continue. "then what happened?"

"the men who had been my teachers, who had been the only.. family i'd ever known.. they scorned me. deemed me reckless and dangerous to jujutsu society. plotted my demise."

your voice is small when you ask, "were they right?"

he wants to hate the question— wants to hate you for asking it— but he knows that it's warranted.

"no. i admit i was forward thinking and a bit.. unorthodox, but i wasn't..."

"what they thought you were?" you offer gently.

he nods. "not until they made me that way— not until they abandoned me and backed me into a corner like some animal."

you struggle to find the right thing to say, if any such thing even exists. you're amazed that he's confiding in you, and while it makes your heart swell, you really don't want to fuck it up.

he looks back down at the book, his eyes scanning the paragraph before repeating, "i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."

he says it as if he's coming to terms with the circumstances of his life for the very first time.

"the creature was remorseful at the end of the novel," you recall somewhat bravely. "are you?"

sukuna thinks for a great deal of time before replying. you wait patiently for him.

"no," he answers decidedly.

looking over at you for the first time since he began his story, he's relieved to find your face is free of rebuke. instead, there's a warm willingness to understand him. a sadness because of the way he was alienated.

he's curious whether anyone would be able to read the sentiment on your face, or if he just knows you better than most.

is that a privilege he's worthy of? he doubts it.

"you didn't deserve what they did to you," you whisper, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp before your palm rests against his cheekbone.

his head leans almost imperceptibly into your hand, and any regret or unease he may have felt at relaying his past to you disappears. watching a single tear slip down your cheek, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

he means to say "don't cry. not for me," but the words die in his throat.

for once, your tears are for him rather than because of him and it's utterly riveting. the fact that someone like you would cry on his behalf seems to contradict every horrible thing he's ever been told about himself.

he could sit here and bask in the feeling forever— he's always known himself to be selfish after all. and you know it too, don't you?

his eyes flicker between each of yours, studying your face. "do you want to know why i don't regret the things i've done?"

you tilt your head to the side. "why?"

"because even if it's made me into a monster..."

for a moment, he contemplates not saying anything more. he considers forcing to himself to pull away from your touch, even if it's the only comfort he's been given his entire life. he might still be able to salvage whatever tiny, laughable pieces remain of his pride—

"all of my actions have led me to you."

your eyes soften before you're wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body to his. he returns the gesture after a few seconds pass.

you know he's awful. you know he's cruel. you know that what he's been through doesn't excuse his actions. but still— you want so desperately to take away his pain. to make up for all the things in his past. to wipe the blood from his hands.

as you embrace such an incredibly complicated man (one who is infamous for unrivaled wickedness, yet has his face buried in your hair), you ponder the creature's plea: "make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous."

a/n 2: if you're still w me, thanks for reading!! i'm not sure how i feel abt this part, so feedback is both welcome and appreciated!! also, how do we like sukuna using angel?? in my head he picked it up from the "my good angel" line in jane eyre, so i hope it doesn't seem too unnatural. alsoooo, highly recommend frankenstein. it's one of my favorite books!! mary shelley popped off and literally created the entire genre of science fiction at 21! anyway, thanks for all the love yall, it means the world<3

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[coconutdays]

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

hi

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

guess what gamers,,,,,,, 👁️👁️🙏

[jjunieworld]

sex for dummies! 𓄹 📈 ₊˚ ␥

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: academic rival au, rivals to lovers, smut, some angst, university au, academic rival!sunghoon, glasses!sunghoon, kinda tsundere!sunghoon, some fluff if you squint, mentions of debates

synopsis: your life seemed to be going perfectly as student body president and smartest person in your university… until your grades started to slip. it got worse when you have to be tutored by the student body vice president, park sunghoon, your rival and the person you hate the most. it then somehow got even worse when he ends up being your partner for your debate team’s competition.

warnings: mean dom!sunghoon, bratty sub!reader, brat & brat tamer dynamics, unprotected sex (gasp, no!!), creampie, multiple orgasms, petnames (baby, good girl, slut), a lot of overstimulation (f. rec), slight fingering, hate sex, rough sex(?), dirty talk, exhibition(?), a lot of degradation/humiliation (f. rec), some possessiveness, some marking, they’re arguing all the time (like all the time), manhandling, some hair pulling (f. rec), super sweet aftercare …. jesus this is so filthy LMAOO

word count: 14k┊masterlist

a/n: plotting this was a wild ride but actually writing it… that was a whole journey… i didn’t mean for it to be this nasty but i dunno what can you do ¯\(◡‿◡✿) /¯ hdjsbfjdnd!/;)! and i’m gonna be real with you all… idk shit about debates i had to google everything lmaooo i hope you enjoy! ♡

“i certainly didn’t expect this from you, y/n,” your teacher said, a look of deep disappointment on her face. “you’re the top in all your classes, in the whole school, why are you letting your grades slip like this? is there something going on?” she put a comforting hand on your shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked between you and your latest test scores.

it’s not that they have dropped dramatically—like from an A+ to a sudden D average—but they have been slowly going down more and more. your once perfect scores now barely making it past a ninety percent. you didn’t even know why your scores were falling. you haven’t felt particularly stressed and there wasn’t anything going on in your personal time. maybe it was because exams were nearing closer and closer? but you’ve always aced them, so that couldn’t be why. maybe you’ve been distracted? you felt like you’ve been distracted.

you gave your teacher, mrs. yoo—who was also your debate coach, a shake of your head, “no, ma’am, there’s nothing like that. i’m not sure why they’re slipping, but i’ll work harder from here on out!” she nodded, putting the papers back into the manila folder they were in. “good, we can’t have our student body president falling behind, especially with our debate competition right around the corner and the upcoming exams! i took it upon myself to ask one of the debate team members to help tutor you.”

it was your turn for your brows to furrow, “but, ma’am, i don’t need tutorin—“ mrs. yoo cut you off with a deep nod and a raised hand, “i know, i know. let’s not call it tutoring… let’s call it… helping. assistancing.” as she spoke there was a knock at her classroom door and the sound of it opening. “oh! here he is!” mrs. yoo added. you had to hide the anger that wanted to make itself known at the person who walked into the classroom. with a smile and hidden smugness in his walk, park sunghoon stepped into the classroom and to you and mrs. yoo.

you didn’t miss the way his stare mocked you, the slight upturn in the corner of his mouth. mrs. yoo gave sunghoon a warm smile, “y/n, i’m sure you know sunghoon, the student body vice president!” it took everything in you to twist the corners of your mouth into a polite smile. “of course, i know him well!” you said as you turned to him. oh, you knew him well alright. knew how good and well you hated every inch of him. knew well how infuriating he was, especially since he noticed your grades slipping. knew well every snide remark he would make about how he was ahead of you, smarter than you, better than you.

sunghoon pushed the frames of his glasses up his nose bridge, his smile widening at you. you could read his expression, how the mighty fall. you were sure him “tutoring” you until your grades got to how they were before would fuel him for lifetimes to come.

sunghoon nodded at you, his attention turning back to mrs. yoo, but the smugness in his smile never leaving. “he’ll be assisting you until you’re back on your feet. the meetups will be on your time, so discuss that amongst yourselves. i’ll be checking up on the two of you here and there for updates on how the process is going,” mrs. yoo said, giving the two of you one final look. “oh! and before i forget—the two of you are teammates for the debate competition. your president should be holding a meeting about it all, so the two of you can work on that as well!” mrs. yoo added, giving the both of you a bright smile.

just when you thought things couldn’t get worse today, you now have to be his teammate? your blood boiled inside and you so badly wanted to wipe the smug grin off of sunghoon’s face. giving your teacher a forced smile and a nod, you turned to leave the room with sunghoon hot on your trail.

“didn’t you say that you were the smartest here?” sunghoon asked you, coming around you to face you and making you stop in your tracks in the middle of the hallway. the polite facade had dropped and smugness reeked from him. he crossed his arms over his chest, cooing sarcastically, “is the student body president falling down a couple notches? do i have to step in for you?” you scoffed and rolled your eyes as you pushed past him, “i don’t need help, especially not from the likes of you.”

sunghoon fell smoothly into step beside you and you cursed him in your head for his long legs. “seems like you do if i’m being begged to help you,” sunghoon remarked. he moved in front of you again, leaning against the archway before the exit of the building to block your path. “just try not to drag me down with you. i don’t need my scores being effected by fucking idiots, and i don’t need to waste my time tutoring them either. meet me in the library tomorrow after the debate meeting so i can get this over with.” sunghoon swiftly turned and exited, leaving you fuming in the archway still.

slamming the exit door open, you furiously scanned your surroundings to see that sunghoon was already gone. groaning loudly, you stormed off to where your car was. you hated him. hated all of his stupid little remarks and snide comments. hated all his taunting in and out of classes. you hated how he thought he was better than you when everything stated that you were better than him. sure, your grades may be a bit on the lower side right now, but you were still the smartest in your university. still student body president—even if the title didn’t really mean much in regards to power, you still fucking had it, while he was vice president.

and now you had to be his debate partner. now the two of you have to spend even more time together than you want to, writing your speeches around the other’s and making sure nothing coincides. it felt like your life was beginning to slip through your fingers. what was happening?

your foot tapped in an annoyed rhythm as you checked the time on your phone again. sunghoon was late. you didn’t know how—you both left the meeting at the same time. at the sound of approaching footsteps, you looked up, a sneer on your face. “what the fuck took you so long? you’re wasting my time,” you spoke at sunghoon’s approaching figure.

sunghoon gave you a lame grin, “i was reserving a study room... and we both know you have nowhere else to be.” he made his way past you, not even stopping his stride, and you followed behind him. he looked back for a moment and added, “except for below the ranks.” you scoffed at him as he turned into the study room.

“the only one who will be falling in the ranks is you after these exams,” you shot back, throwing your stuff onto the table and sitting down in one of the seats heavily. sunghoon raised his eyebrows, pressing his his lips into a tight-lipped smile, “tell me that when i’m not the one tutoring you right now.” you huffed in annoyance as you got your books from your bag.

the triumphant smirk didn’t leave his face the entire time he walked you through all the portions of the subjects you were falling behind in—which you barely needed his help with since you knew them so well already. “so now do you understand why they can’t intersect?” sunghoon asked slowly, staring at you behind wide wire frames with slightly wide eyes. he spoke to you as if speaking to a child who didn’t know that the sky was blue.

“im not fucking stupid, the concept is easy,” you spat, leg shaking underneath the table that you leaned onto, your head resting on your hand in annoyance. sunghoon shrugged a little, “apparently not!” with a roll of your eyes, you closed your textbook with a little hostility. flipping your notebook back to the front and sliding the books back into your bag, you said, “that’s enough for today.”

sunghoon snickered and cooed, “is the dummy too fried? i can dumb it down more for you!” you stopped your motions to give him a sharp glare. “same time tomorrow, asshole,” you stated as you swung your bag over your shoulder. sunghoon leaned back in the chair across from you, his arms crossing against his chest and exposing his bare arms from his rolled up sleeves. he shook his head, “no. busy.”

you exhaled deeply at the simplified sentence. “i don’t care,” you replied as you turned towards the door. “cancel,” you added, and walked out. out the corner of your eye, you could see the smile on sunghoon’s face.

for the rest of the week, you met up with sunghoon for your “tutoring” sessions. they were always in the same study room in the back of the library that was less occupied, “i don’t need anyone seeing me with someone like you,” sunghoon had said.

sunghoon slapped a packet onto the table in front of your seat as you took your bag and coat off. except for your first session, he was always here before you.

you looked at him with a raised brow, “what is that?” sunghoon tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes slightly, “me giving you the pleasure of a mock-up exam. made just for you, aren't i so sweet?” a large smile that showed his teeth appeared at the end of his sentence. scoffing as you took the seat across from him, you slide the packet over to you and flipped through it.

“complete it, and i’ll grade you. you may begin,” sunghoon said and pulled out his phone as he got comfortable in his seat. “grade me?” you laughed incredulously. who did he think he was? “that’s what i said,” he replied, not bothering to look up from his phone. “you’re not my teacher!” you exclaimed and just as quickly sunghoon replied, “i am right now.”

sighing scornfully, you flicked the page of the packet over, the loud sound making sunghoon raise an eyebrow but not his eyes. you rolled your eyes and threw the packet back on the table as you got out a pen. “this is ridiculous,” you muttered as you looked over the first question. “i know trying to sweet talk the teacher usually works in movies, but that’s not going to work here,” sunghoon spoke as he glanced up from his phone at your constant complaints.

“i didn't waste my time making the mock-up for you not to complete it,” he added. your jaw hung open and you clenched your hands into fists. “you wish i wanted to fuck you for extra credit right now,” you shot at him with a raise of your eyebrow. sunghoon just gave you a pity laugh as he turned his attention back to his phone, “you wish you could fuck me. sorry, babe, i’m too high up for you to touch.”

the next session he slapped the graded mock-up onto the table as you walked in. instead of sitting in his usual seat, he was sitting against the table on the side nearest to the door. “you’re wasting my time. why do you still show up if you’re not improving?” sunghoon said as he rose to his feet, annoyed. you took the packet and looked at the grade he gave you and turned to him in confusion. “what are you talking about? this is an A+!” he narrowed his eyes slightly at you, “and it’s not good enough, did you hear what i said? you claim you're so much smarter than me, yet your score isn’t even touching mine.

you scoffed as you threw the mock-up exam on the table next to you. “let’s see your score then!” you replied, raising your arms in the air and letting them fall to slap against your thighs heavily. “what did i tell you yesterday about the movies? we have a test coming up and i bet you’ll fail. are you seriously this dumb?” sunghoon said, shaking his head with furrowed brows.

he couldn’t be serious right now. you sarcastically nodded, turning away. “yeah… why don’t you unzip your pants and i can suck you off for a higher score?” you asked, turning back to him with a tilt of your head and your eyebrows raised. sunghoon laughed wryly, “you wouldn’t even be able to handle it… you can’t even handle the simple questions i give you. what makes you think you could handle my dick down your throat?”

“well, pull it out and we can see for ourselves!” you said loudly as you crossed your arms. the two of you breathed heavily, anger coming off of you in waves as the tension in the room grew thicker and thicker. a long moment of silence spanned between the both of you as you glared at each other, daring the other to stand down.

sunghoon shook his head to himself ever so slightly before taking one long stride and closing the distance between the two of you. he pushed you up against the wall behind you and his lips were suddenly on yours. your mouth opened in a slight groan and he slid his tongue inside your mouth as your arms raised to wrap around his neck to pull him closer. sunghoon’s hands fell to your hips and he pressed you tighter against the wall.

your tongues battled each other for dominance as you kissed each other desperately. your fingers tugged the ends of his hair and the motion caused him to let out a low moan. sunghoon gripped the jacket you wore at your hips and you could feel the growing bulge against his pants, the kiss turning sloppy.

a small whimper escaped your lips and that broke you out of your fog and made you realize just whose lips are on yours. you push sunghoon off of you, causing him to stumble backwards a little, as you take heavy breaths against the wall. sunghoon’s hands are clenched into tight, white knuckled fists near his sides and his glasses had fell down his nose. his chest rises and falls heavily with his labored breathing. the two of you stare at each other with wide eyes, slight shock and horror flowing through the both of you and—now sexual—tension suffocating you.

you licked your now plumped lips and sunghoon’s eyes followed the motion. silently, you grabbed your bag and walked out the door of the study room. you walked through the library as quickly as you could, not wanting to spend another moment in the same place as him after what had just occurred. not wanting to look at him and kiss him again.

to say your next couple session were awkward and tense would be an understatement. you had thought about not even showing up, but you didn’t want mrs. yoo to be on your case. you and sunghoon had barely spoken to each other at all, not even your usual remarks here and there. either he would give you another mock-up test and you would fill it out and he would grade it the next session, or the two of you would be on opposite sides of the table with your laptops opened, working on your speeches. the most communication the two of you had was when one of you would spin your laptop around with a raised eyebrow to make sure you were both on the same page with your speeches.

you couldn’t stop thinking about his lips on yours, the need in the way he kissed you. why did he do that? and why would you kiss him back? clearly, you weren’t in your right mind. you would leave your sessions early, the tension in the air so thick you just had to get out of the small study room.

“i hope everything is going well?” mrs. yoo asked the both of you after class. you glanced over to sunghoon who stood next to you near your teacher’s desk. a big smile was suddenly plastered across his face, “everything’s going great! y/n is really improving!” you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. mrs. yoo’s face lit up, clearly charmed by the resident golden boy of your university, “that’s wonderful! i’m curious to see how you’ll score on tomorrow’s test!” mrs. yoo turned to you, a warm and encouraging smile on her face. “i’m curious too!” you exclaimed as you smiled back.

you and sunghoon walked to the library study room in silence. it was starting to wear at your mind and you couldn’t take it anymore. “i thought you said i was gonna fail?” you asked, turning to sunghoon with raised eyebrows. his hands were buried deep in his pant pockets as he turned to you, “you are.” rolling your eyes as you opened the study room door, you sat your stuff down while taking your jacket off and turned your attention back to him. “so then why didn’t you say that to mrs. yoo? trying to protect my feelings?” you cooed as you mockingly put a hand to your heart.

it was sunghoon’s turn to roll his eyes, “somehow your score keeps dropping. do you have worms for brains or are you not taking this seriously?” he shut the door and sat his bag on the empty chair next to the one he usually sits in. you walked up to him and trailed a finger down his chest. “oh, i’m taking this very seriously,” you replied overly flirtatious, not being able to help the slight laugh that escaped your lips at the end.

sunghoon pushed your finger off of him. “if you’re not gonna take my grading seriously then you can tell mrs. yoo why you’re gonna fail her class and be dropped to the lower ranks. you can also tell her how you’ll lose your title as president and how it’ll go to me.” he said with his signature smug smirk. you just laughed more, it was so easy to get him annoyed.

you leaned on the table towards his standing figure, giving him your best bedroom eyes, “you can grade me in something else, mr. president…” sunghoon gave you an incredulous look and was quiet. it was hard to stifle your laugh at his reaction. sunghoon sighed deeply, squeezing the area between his eyes and he shut them tightly. “fine…” he muttered and it was so low that you barely heard him. you leaned towards him further with a smile, “what was that?”

what you didn’t expect was to be pushed up against the wall again, sunghoon’s lips on yours hungrily. “i’ll grade you on how well you please me,” he said against your lips as he pinned your arms above your head. you caught your breath and replied, “i bet i’ll get an A+!” your blouse was then being pulled over your head, leaving you in your bra. your eyes caught the large square window that looked into the room and you were suddenly glad that nobody really came back here.

sunghoon’s lips were back on yours and you jolted at the cold touch of his fingers at the hem of your panties under the skirt you were wearing. “take these off,” he demanded breathlessly, pulling them down a little. your fingers overtook his and you did what you were told as sunghoon pulled his shirt off and started to unbuckle his belt. shivering from the cold air of the room, you pulled sunghoon back towards you for a kiss as your hands worked at the buttons of his pants once his belt was off.

you were dripping with need as he pushed your hands away and broke your kiss so he could take his pants and boxers off. your eyes fell down to his large cock with wide eyes. “like what you see?” sunghoon smirked as he grabbed your arm and moved you to the table.

he instructed you to take your bra off as he harshly pulled down your skirt. never in a million years would you think that you would ever be completely bare in front of park sunghoon and he would be completely bare in front of you. never in a million years would you think that he would be pushing you up onto the edge of the table, his hard cock brushing against your clit, as he spread your legs so your wet pussy was on full display for him.

sunghoon trailed the wetness with his thumb, causing you to jolt. he chuckled a little giving you a mocking sad face, “i barely even touched you… i thought you could handle it?” you glared at him and shut your legs, shifting them to the side. “says the one who was so desperate to get me naked,” you scoffed. “i could say the same about you,” sunghoon replied as he gripped one of your knees to open your legs again.

when you opened your mouth to retort, he pressed his lips to yours in an open mouthed kiss to shut you up. “you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” sunghoon asked against them and chased your lips when you tried to pull away. all you could do was nod in slight annoyance. you gasped when his fingers entered you and he started to pump them in and out. “then shut up and take my cock like one.”

sunghoon removed his fingers after a couple moments and spread your wetness over your clit. your back arched as a moan escaped you lips. smiling, sunghoon pulled away and lined his cock with your entrance. you gripped onto his biceps as he slowly started to push himself inside you, his hair falling over his glasses as he looked down.

“i hate you,” you finally spat back at him. he glanced up after bottoming out, letting out a heavy breath. you glared sharply at him. it was the only thing you could think to do to distract yourself from how full of him you felt, to stop yourself from grinding your hips towards his. sunghoon rested his hands on your knees, squeezing them slightly. he cocked his head to the side and teasingly asked, “do you? the way you’re clenching around me right now says otherwise.”

without warning, sunghoon started rolling his hips at a fast pace. your nails dug into his biceps as your brows knitted together from the pleasure. “fuck…” sunghoon muttered as he closed his eyes and threw his head back with an open mouth. “you don’t fucking know what you do to me. i imagined doing this every time you opened up that stupid little mouth of yours.”

you whined at his relentless pace, and had to sit back on your hands with a heavy breath. “like—like you ever could…” you moaned out. you were well aware that he was doing just that right now, but you didn’t care. you just wanted a reaction out of him. sunghoon looked down at you with a stupid grin, his hand moved from your knee to rub circles onto your clit with his thumb, “baby, what do you think i’m doing right now? i know you aren’t this dumb…”

you took your lip between your teeth to stop the moan that wanted to desperately come out of you. “t-this is nothing… this is me doing you a favor,” you whimpered, squirming at his fast circles. sunghoon laughed arrogantly, the loud sounds of his skin slapping against yours filling the room, “a favor? please. you were so eager for my cock like the little slut that you are that it was all you talked about since we started these fucking sessions.”

your body twitched as the knot in your stomach got tighter. sunghoon put the hand that wasn’t circling your clit behind your head to pull you to him, looking at you with blown out wide eyes and an intensely strange type of hunger. pulling your head back by your hair, his lips crashed onto yours sloppily. moaning against his lips loudly, you felt your walls clench around his hard cock tighter.

sunghoon let out a low grunt, pulling away from you and squeezing his eyes shut. it was a miracle nobody had come back to the study room yet. he was fucking you so hard that the table shook with every thrust and the chairs rattled. the sound of your moans and skin slapping together along with the wet sounds from his cock inside you should raise some warning bells. if you were in your right state of mind right now you wouldn’t be doing this at all.

your legs started to tremble and your whimpers got louder. you tried to push sunghoon’s hand away from your clit but all he did was swat away your attempt. “no. you get what you ask for, my stupid little slut. this pussy is mine until i’m finished with it,” sunghoon said lowly and kissed you, thrusting faster. you moaned against his lips and tried to still your heavy breathing, but to no use.

sunghoon pulled away, his teeth biting your lip briefly, when you tried to squeeze your legs together. “what did i just fucking tell you?” he spat as he harshly pushed your legs apart again.

you barely even heard his words, too busy with the sweet relief of his hands off your throbbing and sensitive clit. the way his thrusts slowed. “t-too much…” you trailed, crying out when his pace picked up again. his hand was back at your clit again, fast circles sending you over the edge as your back arched more and you gripped his shoulders for support. you buried your face into his bare neck as loud whimpers flew out of you.

“shh…” sunghoon shushed lowly in your ear. for a second, you thought he was gonna be sweet until he harshly added, “keep quiet before someone hears us and we both get in trouble. don’t wanna ruin that good girl image you have now, do you?” you cut off another whimper with the bite of your lip. you were sure to draw blood with how hard your teeth were biting down.

“that’s my good girl,” sunghoon soothed, pulling your head back. he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips as he looked down at you through the frames of his glasses. you avoided his eyes, shutting yours tightly altogether with knitted brows as the band finally snapped and you came around him, your body twitching. you could just hear the smug smirk in his voice when sunghoon suddenly said, “i’ll stop when you beg me to.”

your eyes flew open and your grip on his shoulders tightened. how was he not a mess from all of this like you were? how could he still ram his cock in and out of you, fingers rubbing fast against your clit, with your mixed release and arousal making everything so slick without a single tremor in his voice? you stared at him with the most furious look you could muster, “n-never.” sunghoon’s smirk widened. “you’ll be too stupid on my cock that you won’t even think twice,” he replied.

sunghoon pulled out of you, letting out the first moan you’ve heard from him as you pulsated around him. “fuck…” he breathed as he watched your cum drip out of you. your head fell back as you breathed deeply through your nose, legs still shaking. sunghoon grabbed your arms and pulled you off the table. you wobbled tremendously as your feet hit the floor and you had to hold onto sunghoon for support. he spun you and pushed you down hard on the table, sticking his cock back inside you.

he held your shaking hips steady with firm hands as he pounded into you from behind. sunghoon must’ve been close, because he was letting his moans out more freely. “fuck, y/n… your pussy feels so good around my cock,” he whimpered. the overstimulation had your fists clenching and whines leaving your lips. “f-fuck you, s-sunghoon,” you murmured and looked back at him. with another moan, you came around his length again.

with a stuttered laugh, sunghoon lifted you up against his chest and your head fell back to rest against him. his arm wrapped around your breasts and your lower stomach, holding you tight to him as his cock thrusted deeper into you. your eyes fluttered open to look up at him. sunghoon pecked the side of your mouth, “you are, baby.”

his lips fell down to your neck and he began sucking marks onto it, making you shiver. “when i’m done, everyone will know who you belong to,” sunghoon whispered lowly in your ear. he groaned and buried his head into your neck as he came undone inside of you. you whimpered at the feeling of being so full, sunghoon’s low whines in your ear, and the fact that he just didn’t stop. even after he came.

you felt the cum dripping down your thighs and for once in your entire life, you were grateful for sunghoon. if he wasn’t holding you so tightly to him you would’ve fell over. “s-sunghoon…” you whined just before he brought his lips to yours. he hummed against your lips, a smile spreading. you didn’t want to beg, you refused to beg, but the pornographic sounds emitting from your two bodies and the waves of pleasure flowing through your body were making you extremely hazy.

“sunghoon…” you whined again against his lips. he kissed you slowly, which was a contrast to how fast he was fucking into you right now. “i already told you what to do,” he replied before going back to kissing you. you shook your head, you didn’t want to. whimpering as you came once again, you whispered “p-please…” against his lips.

pulling away and chuckling lowly, sunghoon said, “please what, baby?” you scrunched your face up. you just couldn’t believe that he was making you beg and you just couldn’t believe you were actually about to do it. “please… it’s t-too much. p-please stop!” you begged him. placing another slow kiss against your lips, which he made sure to drag out with a smirk, he leaned you against the table to pull out.

your legs trembled and your walls clenched around nothing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. you fell onto the table for support as your chest rose and fell hard. vaguely, you could hear sunghoon moving around behind you, but you could barely keep your eyes open right now.

you felt gentle hands pulling you up and turning you around. “lay back on the table,” sunghoon said softly, tissues in hand. you didn’t have it in you to argue so you did what you were told. you felt him wiping between your legs and squirmed and jolted at his touch with how sensitive you were. at least the coldness of the table helped provide you comfort against your burning skin.

sunghoon grabbed your waist and helped you sit up. at some point he had grabbed your blouse, which he was now putting above your head after helping you with your bra. there was silence in the air as he got you off the table to put the rest of your clothes on, but it wasn’t a heavy silence, it was actually a comfortable one.

once you were all dressed and sitting in a chair with your coat on, he put the rest of his clothes back on too since he was only in his boxers. he outstretched his arm once he was done for you to take and you stood up with wobbly knees to grab it. “why are you being so nice to me?” you asked him quietly, more genuinely curious than suspicious. he swung your bag over his other shoulder, “i just overstimulated the shit out of you, it’s the least i could do.”

after making sure the two of you had everything, he then added, “or call it post nut clarity… i don’t really care.” you rolled your eyes at him as he led you through the library. both of your names were suddenly called and you heard approaching footsteps. turning in unison, a confused look on your face, you saw as your debate team president ran up to you.

she looked over the two of you, your intertwined arms, your closeness, and the fact that sunghoon was carrying your things with a shocked smile. “oh! you two have gotten close!” she remarked. you gave her a polite smile, your nose scrunching slightly to speak but sunghoon beat you to it, “she was having a hard time and i was around, so i’m just helping her out!”

you so badly wanted to glare at him for the double meaning of his words but didn’t want to give away what had just happened in one of the study rooms. “oh no, what happened?” your debate president asked, her brows drawing together with worry. “she’s overstimulated,” sunghoon smiled and your eyes widened as you glanced at him. “it’s been a long day…” you quickly added, cheeks heating up as you ignored the smile on sunghoon’s face. “you know, all the fluorescent lights and everything…” your president nodded, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder as she wished the both of you well.

once you were out of the library, you harshly nudged sunghoon, which didn’t really do much but make you stumble. “you fucking asshole! why would you say that!” you whisper-yelled, looking around you to make sure none of the students passing by heard. sunghoon beamed, laughing loudly, “it’s not my fault you thought of it that way!”

throughout the test, you kept looking across the room at sunghoon. you wanted to walk over and laugh in his face. this test was absolutely easy, even easier than before. you were going to pass this test with flying colors and score above whatever sunghoon gets. you were giddy with excitement to brag in his face.

at the end when all the tests were collected, you looked over at sunghoon again only to find him already looking at you. his head was resting in his hand and he looked slightly spaced out, but when your gaze met his he straightened and cocked his head to the side while raising an eyebrow. “A+, asshole!” you mouthed with a wide smug smile. sunghoon shook his head with the ghost of a smirk and mouthed, “you wish.”

“when did the two of you start dating?” you heard your debate team president say as she came up to you, leaning next to where you sat. you turned to her with a confused upraised brow. “what are you talking about? we aren’t dating,” you gave a shocked laugh. is she serious? you dating sunghoon of all people? please. you had standards. letting him fuck you was more than enough.

your president looked at you with complete surprise, “you aren’t? oh…” you laughed again as you packed up your things. “you two would make a cute couple!” she smiled. you rapidly shook your head and scrunched your face up at her comment, hanging your bag off your shoulder, “he wishes.” your president laughed, giving you a look, as she turned to leave.

you started to walk after her but felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you back, keeping you in the empty classroom. turning with your eyebrows raised, you gave sunghoon an annoyed expectant look. “how was the test, dumbass? too hard for you?” he pouted and you scoffed at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna be so good to watch your face fall when you see i’ve gotten a better score than you!” you exclaimed and then moved to walk out of the class.

sunghoon followed behind you, “oh, please! i already told you your scores aren’t even touching mine in the slightest. keep dreaming.” you pushed the door open to the building and the afternoon breeze brushed against you. walking towards the direction of the library, you said, “yet i can guarantee you i passed that test with flying colors!” sunghoon just scoffed and the two of you walked the short distance to the library in silence.

when you pushed open the study room, you sat your stuff down and got your laptop out to finish working on your debate speech. the competition was in a couple days and you still had half of your speech to write and make sure was absolutely perfect. “so, what is my grade? A+? i bet it is,” you asked, looking up at him from your seated position as he pulled his laptop out across from you. sunghoon furrowed his eyebrows at you, pushing his hair out of the frames of his glasses. “yesterday…? and you say i’m the idiot,” you added, muttering the last part.

sunghoon mockingly thought for a second before swiftly replying, “i’d give you a D-.” you scoffed, “a D-? you’re such a liar.” he shrugged, clicking some keys on his laptop in front of him. “you sucked, but it was what i expected from someone of the likes of you,” sunghoon replied.

“you weren’t saying that when you were moaning over how good my pussy felt,” you smirked at him with a triumphant raise of your brow. “couldn’t even keep your lips off of me! hm… i’d give you an F average.” sunghoon snorted, “you weren’t saying that when my cock was deep inside you and you kept cumming around me.”

your eyes narrowed at him and you felt your face heat ever so slightly, “only because you were overstimulating me! of course i was gonna cum! then you wouldn’t stop or slow down!” sunghoon leaned forward onto the table on his elbows, a devious smirk playing on his lips. “don’t act like you didn’t fucking love it like the little slut that you are,” he said lowly. you leaned forward too, using his own smirk against him, “only if you stop acting like you don’t want to strip me naked right now and fuck me again.”

“yeah, only so you’ll stop acting like a fucking brat,” sunghoon replied. you smirk grew into a flirtatious smile, “awe, you wanna kiss me so bad!” sunghoon rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his laptop and you smiled widely before doing the same.

after about an hour of working on your speeches and cross checking them with each other, your laptop dinged with a notification that your test was graded. “test scores are out!” you exclaimed, hurriedly clicking on the notification to take you to your gradebook. out the corner of your eye you saw sunghoon lean into his laptop.

“98.75,” sunghoon said. you jumped to your feet in celebration, “99.25, fucker!” you then leaned over your laptop towards him so your face was only a short distance from his. “suck. on. that!” you exclaimed, smugness dripping from your voice. “miss me! miss me! now you gotta kiss me!” you then teased, tilting your head back and forth at him. sunghoon got up from his seat slightly and leaned towards you until your faces were just inches apart. “now everytime you get a high score you’re gonna think of me fucking the shit out of you. right on this table. congrats!”

sunghoon pressed a kiss to your lips before going back to his speech. you stood there for a quick moment completely stunned as your face heated. sunghoon didn’t even glance back up at you or anything. he was completely focused on his speech, eyes trailing the lines on the screen. “fuck you,” you mumbled, going back to your speech with annoyance flowing into you. “think you’d be able to handle it again?” he replied smoothly, eyes never leaving his screen.

your debate team competition was tomorrow and you were so thankful that you managed to perfect your speech a couple days before. you were also thankful that you no longer had to be “tutored” by sunghoon since your grades were back to what they once were. though, you were not thankful that you still had to spend more time with him. that would all end soon though, thankfully.

stepping onto the bus that your debate team president somehow managed to secure, you made your way towards the middle of the bus and chose a seat at random. there weren't a whole lot of people on the debate team, so it was a small bus. you scooted towards the window and leaned your head against it, staring out at the parking lot of your campus.

the location at which the competition was being held and where your hotel was wasn't that far away. maybe a two or three hour drive from your university? either way, you felt exhausted and all you were excited to do was sleep the ride away.

turning, you watched your members file into the small bus, laughing and chatting away amongst each other. your eyes couldn’t help but trail sunghoon as he stepped onto the bus and the sun reflected off his glasses, catching your attention. his eyes immediately found yours and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. you rolled your eyes and looked away, finding the seat in front of you way more interesting.

you looked back over to him when you saw him getting closer. he sat in the seat ahead of you on the opposite side of the bus. leaning against the window and throwing his feet up onto the rest of the seat, he looked over at you over the rims of his glasses. “like what you see?” he mouthed and you rolled your eyes again, ignoring how his words brought up memories of the two of you fucking, and continued to stare.

sunghoon pulled out his phone and started scrolling on it for a little bit. he must’ve felt you still staring at him, lids droopy, because he glanced back up at you. “sleepy?” he mouth and then pouted, doing a fake crying motion. you didn’t have the energy to shoot something back at him so all you did was nod, lids fluttering closed for a second. “so go to sleep,” he mouthed.

you sighed deeply and glanced around the bus. the bus was quiet besides the sounds of wheels going over concrete and the occasional rattling of the things on the bus. majority of your members were either asleep or on their way to it, and mrs. yoo was asleep as soon as she got comfortable in her seat at the front. “can’t,” you mouthed to sunghoon, followed by a shrug.

even though you were dead tired, for some reason your eyes just wouldn’t close besides the occasional flutter. you watched as sunghoon sighed lightly before moving over to your seat. he sat his bag down on his lap, patting it down a little, and turned towards you. you looked back at him, confusion clear in your eyes. he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards his lap, insinuating that you rested your head on his bag.

shifting a little so you were more comfortable, you laid your head on his bag. sunghoon’s arm laid across the side of your waist and his hand rubbed soothing circles into it. “don’t think this is because i like you,” he whispered to you. you looked up at him. “mhm… and you wanna kiss me,” you quietly muttered, sleep heavy on your tone.

“you want me to kiss you again,” sunghoon quietly shot back. your eyes drooped shut as you replied, “mhm… sure do.” sunghoon’s hand moved from your waist to your face as he turned it so you were facing him again. he leaned down and his lips met yours in a slow and sweet kiss. when he pulled away, he whispered with no punch, “you get what you ask for, idiot.” you just hummed, already half asleep as he continued to rub soothing circles onto the side of your waist.

at some point, probably immediately after sunghoon had kissed you, you had fallen asleep. it’s quite surprising how easily you were able to simply from laying your head in his lap. when you woke up, the sun was setting and the streaks of pink and orange greeted you. you were still facing sunghoon a little, and you could see how he was fast asleep.

his hand was still across your waist, and you had to gently and slowly move it to his lap so you could sit up without waking him. the whole bus seemed to still be asleep, except for the bus driver, and you checked your phone to see that there was still about forty minutes until you reached your hotel. turning back to sunghoon, you giggled lightly to yourself at how his head leaned back on the seat as he slept. slowly you took his glasses off his face and put them on yours.

poking his cheek, you had to stifle your laugh as he jolted slightly. you stared at him with a dumb smile on your face as his eyes fluttered open and he blinked rapidly for a moment. he straightened, his eyes finding yours with a ghost of a smile on his mouth. “damn your vision fucking sucks,” you immediately said, your voice low not to wake anyone.

his vision actually wasn’t that bad, only slightly blurry for you, but you could still see out of his glasses just fine. “no shit sherlock,” sunghoon replied. “what do you think i need glasses for? and my vision isn’t even that bad, i can still see fine without them.” it was just so funny to tease him and see what his reaction will be. you couldn’t resist doing it, especially not when he would always deliver.

you started dramatically posing with his glasses, trying to keep the smile from growing on your face. “do you think your glasses are the look for me?” you playfully asked him. “do i look beautiful?” immediately sunghoon replied, “no, you look hideous.” he took his glasses back from you and put them back on his own face, his eyebrow raising at you after.

you let out a quiet laugh and wrapped your arms around his neck. you then countered, “awe, baby, you think i’m so beautiful? you wanna kiss me again?” you pouted your lips as you waited for his answer. sunghoon just rolled his eyes. “totally…” he whispered, placing his hands on your waist. “i definietly do.”

smirking slightly, you leaned in and kissed him just as slow and sweet as he did to you earlier. only this time, you deepened it. you could practically feel sunghoon’s shock coming off of him in waves and it made you smile into the kiss. you pulled away suddenly, a playful smile on your lips, “you get what you ask for!” you then gasped lightly and whispered really low, a hand over your mouth, “not here, nasty! there’s people around!” when he tried to kiss you again.

you tried to move your arms from his neck and turn away but sunghoon pulled you closer to him. “nuh uh…” he muttered his lips pressing to yours for a chaste kiss. “that didn’t bother you before in the study room,” he whispered close to your ear sensually. your face heated as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “didn’t bother you when we were shaking the table and your moans could be heard across campus,” he whispered in your other ear before pressing sweet kisses to your neck. you had to resist the urge to moan as you glanced around the bus to see everyone still sleeping, your face on fire.

the marks from his lips on your neck the last time has just started to almost completely disappear. you had to wear turtlenecks or keep your scarf on during the day, which—thankfully—the weather outside was chilly. “go back to your original seat,” you replied, pushing his head away from your neck. you pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge. “or what?” he challenged eyes boring into yours.

you rolled your eyes and tried to scoot as far from him as his hands pulling you towards him would allow. “we both know who’s in charge here,” he spoke quietly, lips on your jaw when you turned your face away from him. “and we both know i have more than enough reasons to punish you.” his breath fanning on your skin sent a shiver down your spine and it made sunghoon chuckle.

sunghoon guided your face back to his with the tip of his finger. he gave you another slow kiss before breaking away with a smug smirk and grabbing his bag to move back to his original seat. you breathed heavily and tried to still your rapidly beating heart. every moment you spent with him was always filled with such intensity, such tension that by the end of it you felt like you ran a marathon while holding your breath the entire time.

you glanced at him to see that he was leaned back against his window towards you, arms crossed in his lap, his hair over his glasses slightly and eyes shut. you stared at him for a moment as your heart rate increased more. how did he always manage to make you feel like this?

shaking your head at the thought, you watched as his chest rose and fell until he was asleep again. you didn’t have anything better to do, and you weren’t tired, so you watched him until more people started to wake and it was almost time to get your suitcases from the back of the bus to go into your hotel.

“are you sure you don’t want to go to the pre-competition party?” your debate team president, and hotel roommate, asks while half her body is wrapped around the door to your room. a couple of your other members are outside the room waiting for her. “i’m fine! truly, i am. i’m really tired and just want to head to bed early,” you tell her, lying through your teeth. “go have fun! don’t stay out too late!” she laughs and responds before stepping out, “can’t say that i won’t!”

you sigh as the door closes and the keycard lock clicks into place. dropping onto your bed for the night, you stare up at the ceiling as thoughts of sunghoon flow through your mind. that’s what you really wanted to stay in for. he’s been in your mind a lot recently, and not just of the occasional thoughts of how much you hated him.

do you even still hate him? you didn’t know. the relationship between the two of you was all over the place, lines blurred everywhere. you hate each other, but the two of you have slept together—and you don’t even know if you could label it as hate sex at this point. you hate each other, but occasionally sunghoon kisses you, and today you kissed him?

what makes you even more confused, and shocks you to your core, is the fact that you don’t seem to mind the weird relationship you and sunghoon have. in fact, you actually kind of like it. it makes you look over all of your interactions with brand new eyes. you’re ripped out of your thoughts by a knock at your door. sliding from the bed, you walk over to the door and open it, only to be faced with the person running rampid in your thoughts himself.

sunghoon had his laptop in his hand and he looked at you expectantly. wordless, and still a little in your thoughts, you move to the side to let him in. “what are you doing here?” you ask him. sunghoon waved his laptop in the air as he got settled at the desk in your hotel room. “we need to go over our speeches one last time before the competition tomorrow,” he replied.

a smug smile graced your features and you boasted, “i’m already finished with mine! must be because you’re so inferior to me that you aren’t!” sunghoon snorted, “these are just revisions, i finished mine a week ago. can’t say the same for you, unfortunately. i’m not the the one who was feverishly scrambling to finish my speech two days before the competition.” you rolled your eyes even though his back was to you. you completely forgot that you had finished your speech with him present at the study room. “fuck off,” you muttered.

a comfortable silence filled the room as you laid on your bed staring at the ceiling and sunghoon typed at the desk. you were bored out your mind. the music from the party outside where the pool was floated up to your ears. even being on the third floor, the music was decently loud. almost every debate team that’ll be partaking in the competition was down there.

“sunghoon,” you whined. “i’m so fucking bored can you hurry up.” you heard him chuckle, “that just makes me want to go slower.” silence overtook the room again for a couple minutes before you whined out again. “i’m bored,” you turned to stare at sunghoon’s side profile. you just realized how pretty he was. “what do you want me to do about it? shut up so i can focus,” he replied.

every couple minutes you would whine about how you were bored. you could see the irritation continuously building in sunghoon’s shoulders every time you opened your mouth. at first you really were bored, but then you saw how it was annoying him and that became entertaining to you. especially when he started to just flat out ignore you.

standing from the bed, you walked over to him, running your fingers through his hair and resting your head on top of his. you whined out once again, dragging out the vowel, “sunghoon i’m bored!” you glanced down to his laptop and saw that he was basically almost done. he had only a few more paragraphs before the end. a mischievous smile curled your lips as you thought of something that would make him really annoyed.

moving to the side and leaning in front of him, you lifted your leg over his to straddle him. sunghoon let out a loud annoyed sigh as you put your hands on his shoulders. he stared at you with furrowed brows, his arms falling to his sides. you pouted, “what? you don’t want me now?” sunghoon breathed in hard, “no, i don’t.”

you grinded against him and his hands flew to your hips. “do you really wanna get on my nerves?” he asked harshly. truthfully, besides being entertained at seeing him annoyed, you don’t know why you were straddling him. why you were currently grinding against him again and his hands at your hips were holding you firmly still. you didn’t know why being in his presence filled you with such an intense need that you just had to provoke him to the point where he would touch you in some way.

a playful smile started to take over your pout. sunghoon sighed deeply and scooted his chair back away from the desk a little. your smile only grew when suddenly his lips were on yours. the kiss was just as desperate as you felt and just as intense. it reminded you of the time the two of you first kissed. the desperate need that left you breathless and made you run. but you weren’t running now. you wanted sunghoon—you needed him.

grinding against him again, he sharply inhaled and pulled away from you. you could feel his growing bulge and could feel how much wetter you were getting. he moved to stand and you got off of him. your body felt of fire and you shook ever so slightly in anticipation from whatever might happen next.

sunghoon moved to your bed, “where’s your roommate?” he asked and looked to you. his stare was intense and emotions that you couldn’t decipher swirled in his eyes. “the party,” you replied simply. “she won’t be back until late… or at all if she’s with her boyfriend.” a shiver ran down your spine at sunghoon’s satisfied smirk.

he laid on your bed, back against the headboard with an arm behind his head, his intense eyes never leaving yours. “are you just gonna stand there like a fucking idiot or are you gonna start taking your clothes off?” he asked you in the sweetest tone you’ve heard from him yet. “you want my cock so bad? come here and ride me.”

your mouth fell open and you stuttered over what to do next. you didn’t know why you were suddenly so shy. “and if i don’t?” you managed to say, the confidence was leaking out of your voice. sunghoon tilted his head to the side, his eyes trailing up and down your body from across the room and heating it up even more than it was before. “then i’ll leave you here all fucking needy,” he said simply.

slowly, you started to remove each article of clothing one by one. you kept avoiding his intense eyes that never left you, especially when he lifted his hips off the bed to take his sweatpants and boxers off, hard and leaking cock on full display. you only got a brief moment of tranquility from his stare when he went to take his shirt off.

you stood completely naked in front of him. he had shifted down on the bed a little, him completely naked now too. for some reason, even thought this isn’t the first time you were naked in front of him, this time felt different. you felt suddenly exposed, like the fog between the two of you had disappeared and you were seeing each other clearly for the first time. he had to feel it too, or else he wouldn’t be staring at you so intently, his brows slightly knitted together.

after a moment of silence, a moment that felt like eternity with the thick tension in the air, sunghoon finally broke it. you stood with your hands intertwined together in front of you, squirming a little to find some way not to feel so exposed. your eyes were firmly on the bottom of the bed where you could just barely make sunghoon out in your peripheral vision.

“come here,” sunghoon said softly. your eyes fluttered up to him and you moved slowly towards the bed, perching just at the end as you sat back on your knees. the room suddenly felt cold and goosebumps formed on your skin. sunghoon shifted a little so he was sitting more against the headboard again. “closer,” he said in the same soft tone. he put his hands to his sides as his eyes trailed over your face.

you crawled towards him slowly, and immediately regretted it when you looked up at his sharp intake of breath. you straddled his thighs, his big and hard cock brushing against your stomach. sunghoon moved his hands from his sides to your waist and caught your lips in a sweet and soothing kiss.

you moved your ridgid arms from your sides to around his neck, fingers combing through the bottom of his hair. the longer you kissed sunghoon, the more you felt your nerves dissolve and the more your need for him grew. you got up on your knees and grabbed sunghoon’s cock, which made him let out a moan against your lips, and lined it to your entrance. slowly, you slid down his length until he was fully inside of you.

you did as he told you to do and started to grind your hips, pulling away from his lips to whimper at how good he felt. his long cock rubbed against your sweet spot so well and you rolled your hips faster and faster as the waves of pleasure hit you one by one.

sunghoon kissed you slowly as you came undone on top of him. he smiled against your lips as you kept pulling away to moan or whimper from his cock inside you. it almost made you forget that he was annoyed with you—almost. it almost made you forget until you fell against him with your head buried in his chest as you pulsated around him and he lifted your hips so you were sitting on your knees slightly. until you pulled away from his chest with knitted eyebrows and he stared at you with intense, blown out eyes. until he gripped your hips so you wouldn’t move and fucked up into you so hard that it made you cry out.

tears brimmed in your eyes and you couldn’t stop the breathy stuttered whimpers that escaped you even if you tried. “s-sunghoon…” you moaned out. sunghoon threw his head back onto the headboard at his name on your lips. “what? this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked you, mock sweetness in his voice. “when you kept grinding against me, this is what you asked for, isn’t it?” he slammed his lips on yours, humming at the way you clenched around him again, warm cum dripping down his cock.

“a-asshole,” you pushed out, glaring at him because that was all you could do. his eyebrows raised at you and he let out a wry laugh, “baby, you have no idea.” suddenly you were being pulled off the bed. suddenly sunghoon was throwing the balcony door open and the cold air was nipping at your skin.

you were being pulled to the balcony, party in full swing below you and music attacking your ears. you were lucky that if someone were to look up three floors that they’d only see your fucked out expression as sunghoon bent you over the railing and stuck his cock back inside you. “since you wanna be a fucking brat for me, you can be a brat for everyone. let’s show everyone how much of a fucking slut you are.”

the retorts quickly died on your tongue when sunghoon began moving, smacking his hips harshly against your ass. “aren’t you such a good girl? already cumming twice against my cock. you want more? cause i’ll give you fucking more,” sunghoon leaned down to your ear to ask you over the music. you nodded, severely regretting pissing him off. your legs wobbled underneath you.

you already knew what was coming next when you felt his hand wrap around your waist. he pulled you up and said harshly, “use your fucking words. are you trying to annoy me more?” you swallowed down the moans in your throat. “n-no,” you whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut. “i w-want you to give m-me more…” if you thought him making you beg for him to stop the first time he fucked you was humiliating, it had nothing on this.

your back arched and that just made it worse. he pulled you back to him by your hair and you moaned at the pain and from the pleasure of his cock ramming in and out of you. you heard him smugly laugh behind you and you opened your eyes to look at him. he stared directly into your eyes, “you’re mine. and your pussy for the night is mine to do with what i please. do you understand?” you nodded.

remembering to use your words, you pushed out, “y-yes.” sunghoon’s lips were on yours with a sloppy kiss that ended just as fast as it started. “and who do you belong to?” he asked you, mouth by your ear. you inhaled as deeply as you could with the pleasure ripping you apart. “you,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. sunghoon gave you the sweetest smile and followed it up with the sweetest kiss. “good fucking girl.”

he brought you back inside and shut the balcony behind you. you barely got to breathe a sigh of relief that cold air wasn’t nipping at your skin before your face was buried in the comforter and you let out the loudest moan you’ve ever let out before. sunghoon fucked into you so deeply, his own loud moans escaping him, that it sent you over the edge. you clenched around him again and he whimpered out a, “fuck, baby… you’re gonna make me cum if you keep clenching around my cock like that.”

you whimpered out something even you couldn’t understand, thick tears rolling down your face from the ecstasy. you let out another loud moan, the rope inside you about to snap. “you drive me f-fucking crazy, y/n. do you know that?” sunghoon stuttered. the two of you came at the same time, intertwined moans and whimpers filling the hotel room.

sunghoon fell over you, managing to catch himself with his hands at your sides as you felt his cock twitch inside you from his release. he pulled out from you slowly, whimpering at how you clenched around him in the process. he laid down on the edge of the bed and helped pull you up so you straddled him again and laid against his chest. sunghoon’s arms wrapped around you as you both breathed heavily.

once you felt your body still and you no longer felt like you were being ripped apart by his huge cock giving you waves of pleasure, you sat up with sudden determination. sunghoon looked up at you through half opened eyes and tilted glasses. you took his cock, relishing in the way he moaned and dug his head into the blankets as his eyes squeezed shut, and slid it back inside you. you tried not to double over at the sensitivity and how you could feel every vein on his cock inside you.

you placed your hands on his chest and looked down at him, eyes burning and the hint of a smile on your lips. sunghoon laughed, and it had to be the first time you’ve ever heard him genuinely laugh. a genuine smile spread across his lips after. you felt your heart flutter at the sight despite your plans. “want me to get a taste of my own medicine, huh?” sunghoon smiled up at you, causing your own to grow, and you nodded as you started to rock your hips back and forth.

sunghoon put his hands on your hips, whimpers leaving him and making his teeth clench. you picked up your paced and he stared up at you through knitted eyebrows. your smile grew more as you got to watch every moan, every whimper, and every whine that left his mouth, just as he did you. it didn’t take long for sunghoon to cum again, and thank god for that. you didn’t know how long you could take being hit with more waves of pleasure.

his hands gripped your hips hard as he moaned out your name. you giggled and continued to move your hips, creamy sounds coming from the motion. “o-okay, y/n…” sunghoon whined and you shook your head. “beg me to stop,” you demanded, giggles on your lips. “st—okay! s-stop. please stop!”

you smiled and pulled yourself off of him slowly. sunghoon let out a shaky breath and looked over at you, “that’s the only time i’ll let you do that.” you looked over at him from your spot next to him, an eyebrow raised in a challenge. “who says there will be a next time?” you replied. sunghoon just shook his head at you and laughed, “we both know this isn’t the last time.” you laughed and gave him a quick kiss. “so then you know that that won’t be the only time!” you sweetly exclaimed.

he sat up and you followed, standing to your feet and almost falling to the floor had it not been for sunghoon catching you. he sat you back down on the bed, helping you to move back against the headboard. “stay here... i’ll get a towel to clean you up,” he chuckled and you nodded. you weren’t even shocked like how you were the last time that he was being so sweet. in fact, after the way he just fucked you, it was a welcome change. even if the one-eighty made you dizzy.

sunghoon grabbed your clothes off the floor and sat them beside you as he started to clean you up. “you might want to put on something warmer… i did have you out in the cold naked,” he spoke softly as you put your shirt on. the clothes you were wearing before was a long sleeved pajama top and pajama shorts. the room was already a little bit cold, so maybe he was right. “all i packed was pajama shorts…” you trailed as he finished cleaning between your legs.

“you can wear my sweatpants,” sunghoon replied and reached down to the floor to grab them. he handed them to you and stood to his feet to clean himself off. “well then what would you wear?” you asked, brows furrowing. sunghoon shrugged, “i’ll be fine. i’ll just wear my boxers and put a different pair of sweatpants on when i get back to my room.” he put his boxers on and helped you to put your underwear and his sweatpants on. he then turned for the bathroom.

suddenly, and at full force, you realized that your night together—your time tonight with him—was coming to a close. and you realized how you didn’t want him to leave. sunghoon came out the bathroom in just his shirt and boxers and halted in his steps to stare at you. it was the most openly longing brief stare and it made your heart explode in your chest before he turned away to his laptop.

he gathered his laptop and turned back to you, a less intense version of his intense stare from earlier drilling into you. you could see that brief longing hiding behind it. you panicked from the intent attention and said, “don’t stare at me like that.” there was that genuine smile that made you want to melt. “or what? you can’t even move,” he replied, a laugh at the edges of his voice. you rolled your eyes playfully as he came up to you and pressed a kiss to your lips.

sunghoon turned to leave and you grabbed his hand, making him turn back towards you with knitted brows. “can you stay with me?” you asked shyly as you looked down to where your hand held his, “…please?” you dared a glance at him and saw as the corners of his mouth were trying hard not to lift. he nodded and moved to set his laptop back on the desk, along with his glasses.

you scooted over in the bed and got under the covers and he did the same after turning the lights off. sunghoon pulled you closer to him in the darkness, until your head was to his chest. you looked up at him and he kissed you slowly, and this time it felt more intimate rather than teasing. “you don’t hurt anywhere do you? are you sore?” he asked quietly between kisses. you shook your head, “no but i’ll probably be sore in the morning.”

“i’m sorry, baby,” he spoke, kissing you a final time before resting his chin on your head and pulling you closer. you inhaled his scent and shut your eyes, a sudden wave of tiredness hitting you. “i know you’re tired,” he then said. “go to sleep, i’ll be here to help you.” you nodded and let yourself drift off. when you woke up the next morning, sunghoon was gone.

you and your debate team members were rounding back up onto the bus after a successful debate competition, tired smiles and sleepy yawns everywhere. it was a miracle that you were able to speak so confidently at your competition after what happened last night. especially with your emotions all over the place when you woke up to find that you were completely alone in your hotel room.

you and sunghoon haven’t spoken—besides at the debate—all day. and if you were being honest… you were kind of avoiding him. you just couldn’t be around him after last night. he made your head foggy and your heart pound and you were helpless to stop it. the two of you weren’t even friends, and you clearly weren’t dating, so what were you?

all of your members were sound asleep as soon as they stepped on the bus and you smiled a little to yourself. they must’ve had a fun time at the party last night. you had your head leaning on the window as you watched the passing scenery. you didn’t turn when you felt the seat dip next to you.

you had felt sunghoon’s eyes on you, that burning intensity, but you couldn’t look at him right now. you closed your eyes when you felt his arm wrap around you and you were pulled to him. “sleep,” he spoke softly, his hand brushing the side of your face that was now in his lap. you couldn’t, so you just nodded as you kept your eyes closed. you slowed your breathing until you felt his slow and cracked your eyes open as you slowly turned to look up at him.

sunghoon was fast asleep, his head drooped down towards you and glasses hanging down his nose. you wanted so badly to cup his face and kiss his lips, and that thought caught you off guard horrifically. slowly, you began to put the pieces together.

the way your face would heat and your heart rate would pick up... the way you always seemed to find him in any crowded room, your eyes always lingering on him… the way you wanted to be near him—needed to be near him, to have his lips on yours to the point where you would constantly provoke him… you had feelings for park sunghoon.

your eyes widened significantly and you were glad that everyone was asleep for your realization. you liked sunghoon. you liked him, and your feelings for him were only growing more and more as you spent more and more time with him. before you even realized it, your hand was raising to move the hair that had fallen in his face. your eyes widened as he stirred slightly and you froze. thankfully, he stayed asleep and you dropped your hand as you continued to stare.

you had stayed there like that, just silently watching him for almost the whole bus ride. when you saw him stir you quickly shut your eyes and slowed your breathing again. you felt him shift ever so slightly and heard him let out a low sigh. his fingers brushed your face softly, the pad of his thumb brushing back and forth before his arm rested across your waist.

after a few minutes had passed, you pretended to wake up, eyes fluttering open and connecting with his. you blinked a couple times before moving to sit up. glancing around the bus to everyone’s sleeping forms, you saw him furrow his eyebrows a little in your peripheral.

when you looked back at him, head leaning back against the bus seat, sunghoon had cupped your face and pressed a kiss to your lips. he went to stand but you grabbed his hand. your eyes widened slightly and he turned back to you in slight shock, eyebrows raising. you stared at him with wide eyes and pulled him back down lightly.

what if he didn’t want this, didn’t want to be with you? what if all he enjoyed between the two of you was all the kisses and the sex with no strings attached? sunghoon sat back down and you turned to lean against the window, thoughts racing.

when you got to campus you had basically sprinted away from the bus after getting your things to your dorm. you were glad that you didn’t really have to spend anymore time with sunghoon, since you didn’t need his “tutoring” and the debate competition was over. maybe you can try and get rid of these feelings, try and go back to the way things were before you and sunghoon ever even kissed.

you laughed wryly to yourself as you put your stuff away in your dorm. things will never be the way they were before. that ship sailed as soon as his lips touched yours, as soon as you were both naked and your bodies were pressed together.

you had avoided sunghoon in all the classes you shared, inside the hallways, and anywhere on or off campus. you never realized how much he was always in your orbit before you were actively trying to stay out of his. it was going well, you were ignoring his stare on you, lost in your own thoughts as the class was about to end.

that’s when you felt someone lean down next to you and a, “you’re mine.” was uttered. at least, that’s what you heard. you jumped, looking over to see no one other than sunghoon. your mind flashed back to the hotel and you blinked a couple times to clear your thoughts. with knitted brows you said, “what?” sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you, giving you a weird look. “i said you’re my partner,” he replied, brows furrowing when you gave him a confused look. “for the presentation…?” he added and you tried to think about what he was talking about.

vaguely, you remember your teacher talking about some powerpoint project that she wanted you to group into pairs for. you wanted to bang your head against the wall at the fact that you were gonna have to spend even more time with sunghoon. your feelings haven’t even left! if anything, they’ve intensified. you inhaled deeply, “okay.”

the two of you were now sitting in your study room, silence hanging in the air with tension that couldn’t be cut with a fucking chainsaw. your laptops were in front of you, open to your shared slides. under the table, sunghoon’s leg shook furiously. throughout your time in here, he had tried to kiss you twice. he had given you a confused look when you turned your head away both times, opting to focus on something else. the first time he thought you were being bratty, but when it happened the second time he had raised an eyebrow at you.

“can you stop changing all the slides i make?” sunghoon suddenly spat out as he looked at you angrily. you gave him a glare. “well maybe if you would stop thinking with your dick and use your brain you wouldn’t be struggling with this easy ass topic and i wouldn’t have to keep editing all your slides,” you shot back.

sunghoon scoffed, “maybe if you would stop thinking about my dick and focus we wouldn’t be having all these problems and we would be on the same page!” you couldn’t help but take his words as a double meaning. the two of you stared at each other with angry, intense glares. you sighed heavily and stood to your feet, annoyance dripping from you as sunghoon watched.

you stormed over to him and sat on his lap, grabbing his face and bringing your lips to his roughly. his hands immediately came to your hips as he kissed you back with just as much roughness. “i hate you so fucking bad,” sunghoon muttered against your lips. there was no heat in it. “you want to fuck me so fucking bad,” you immediately replied.

sunghoon started to turn the kiss sweet, holding you against him as his hands moved to your lower back and the back of your neck. his touch sent a shiver down your spine. “i want you, y/n…” he said after a moment. you pulled away and tried to get off of him, but he held you tighter. in what way did he want you? “i want you too,” you spoke, quietly.

your gaze fell and you then said, “what is this between us, sunghoon?” he went quiet and the silence between the two of you was deafening. you pushed his arms off you and got off of him, moving to return to your seat. before you could get far, sunghoon grabbed your hand. “y/n, what do you mean?” he asked seriously.

harshly turning to him, you tried so hard to keep the sadness from your voice, “the morning at the hotel… why did you leave?” sunghoon gave you an incredulous look. “what?” he breathed, and shook his head ever so slightly. “the morning after we had sex. you said you were gonna stay with me and when i woke up you were gone,” you snatched your hand from his grasp, not caring anymore if he heard the hurt in your voice.

there was concern and worry etched clear in his expression. “i didn’t think you’d want to see my face once your head was clear…” sunghoon said quietly. the anger in you only grew. “you should’ve let me decide that!” you shouted in frustration. sunghoon stood, grabbing your hands, “okay! i’m fucking sorry that i assumed… okay?” you looked away.

sunghoon took your chin softly so you would look up at him. “i’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice softer. “it won’t happen again.” you blinked a couple of times to get rid of the building tears. “so?” you asked quietly, referring to the question you asked him. sunghoon cupped your cheek, “we can be whatever you want us to be. i’ll be happy as long as you don’t avoid me again. i told you, i want you—to be with you.”

you pressed your lips to his, “i want to be with you too.” he laughed and teasingly said, “awe, you want to be my girlfriend?” you rolled your eyes, a smile on your lips, as you playfully pushed him away. his laugh grew, that same genuine laugh, as he pulled you towards him to capture your lips in a kiss. “you get what you ask for,” he spoke, making you giggle.

the next day you walked into mrs. yoo’s class together hand in hand, a big smile on your face as sunghoon teased you. your debate team president practically cheered as she yelled how she was right. “finally it’s official! now i don’t have to watch the two of you longingly stare at each other from across the room!” she exclaimed. your face heated tremendously and before you could look away in embarrassment sunghoon kissed you with a large grin.

when you had gotten and A+ on your presentation, you smiled at sunghoon. “who’s the idiot now, idiot?” you asked teasingly. he hummed in thought for a moment, “you still are!” he gave you a chaste kiss and wrapped his hands around your waist. “let me take you on a date,” sunghoon then said.

you hummed in thought for a moment, copying his actions as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “no, thank you!” sunghoon playfully rolled his eyes, kissing you again, “i’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.”

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Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only

Carter could hear his car approaching before it even came into view.

She had been grounded for two weeks, caught out with Topper on his granddad’s boat past curfew, and she had never been more bored in her life. Slumped back on the couch, she dipped her hand in the bag to grab another chip, pausing mid-bite when she heard the familiar hum of Rafe’s truck engine growl down the street.

“Oh fuck no,” she hopped off the couch, a trail of crumbs in her wake as she jogged to the front door. 

Though she knew you were away for the afternoon, your mom taking you to tour a local college on the mainland, she instinctively double checked that your car was still gone. She was thankful you weren’t here to see him in his oversized ego-mobile zipping down your street like he owned it.

You’d been devastated all week, crying yourself to sleep in the wake of seeing Rafe kiss Cassie Bryant. Nothing made Carter angrier than knowing you were hurt and not being able to do anything about it. 

She couldn’t believe his nerve to show up here. He’d been texting to you all week, clearly not taking your lack of response for the answer that it was. You were finally finding the strength to stay away from him, and she was not about to let that unravel.

She stood on the front porch, closing the door firmly behind her, arms crossed and stance wide like she was prepared to defend her castle. Really, she was prepared to defend you.

Rafe parallel parked on the street, some misogynistic country song blaring from his subwoofers. Carter rolled her eyes at the way his massive truck took up enough space for two cars, always claiming what wasn’t his, taking and taking and giving nothing in return.

Closing the driver’s door with a bang, Rafe hopped down from his truck and strolled toward the house, stopping short in the front walk when he noticed Carter glaring out at him.

“You have some fucking nerve, Cameron,” she spat at him.

“I’m not here for you,” he glared back.

“Well no one else in this house wants to talk to your ass right now so you can go ahead and turn right back around.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just wanna know why she wasn’t at my game today.”

“Uh-oh,” she tilted her head in mock-sympathy, “did ya lose?”

He clenched his jaw, an angry huff of air flaring his nostrils, “yeah, we lost.”

“Good.”

“Can you just let me in?” He started moving toward the front steps, but she didn’t move from her spot blocking the door. “I need to talk to her and she’s not answering my texts.”

“Do you think that’s an accident?” She scoffed. “Take a hint.”

“Okay, what’s your fucking problem, Carter?” He snapped the sentence off with a bite of her name.

“You’re my problem, Rafe,” she bit right back.

“What the fuck did I do? Why isn’t your sister answering my calls?”

“I dunno, maybe you should ask Cassie Bryant,” her hands uncrossed and rested on her hips.

Rafe stepped back, head dropping back in exasperation as he rolled his eyes at the sky.

“That’s what this is about? Cassie and I are just hooking up, what’s the big deal?”

“You mean besides the fact that Cassie’s made my sister’s life hell since they were in the same Kindergarten class?” She threw at him. “Or that you’ve been dragging my sister along since she was six years old just to ditch her for some wannabe Addison Rae tiktok flop?”

“God, you’re always so fucking dramatic, it isn’t even like that,” he gestured toward the window of your bedroom, still assuming you were up there somewhere avoiding him, “your sister knows we’re cool.”

“You’re not cool, Rafe. You’re an idiot,” she told him with a pitying shake of her head. 

Rafe turned her words over in his head, finally stopping long enough to consider the possibility that he’d done more damage than he initially thought.

“Is she really mad at me?” He mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Carter sighed, “No. She’s not mad at you. She’s never mad at you, that’s the problem. You don’t make her mad, you make her sad. All you ever do is make her sad.”

Shoulders falling, Rafe looked past Carter with a vacant stare. He looked so confused and distraught she almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

“I didn’t mean to make her sad,” he mumbled, almost at a whisper.

Carter scanned him with narrowed eyes, trying to decide if his penance was sincere. He looked down at his shoes, digging the tip of one into the stony walkway.

“How do I fix it?”

Carter started to think maybe he was sincere after all, but she still wasn’t sure he was in any place to be asking for advice.

“I don’t know if you can,” she told him.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said hopefully, trying to console himself. “She’ll come around.”

He looked at Carter like he was actually expecting her to agree.

“And then what, Rafe?” She tilted her head, genuinely curious about the answer. “What’s the end game here? You’ll just make her sad for a few more months and then go off to school and…what?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged defensively. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Exactly. You don’t think things through. That’s always been your problem,” she informed him, “you just do what you want and pay no attention to how it affects other people. If you really cared about her, you wouldn’t keep putting her through the same shit over and over.”

“I do care about her,” he mumbled, her words beginning to penetrate his carefully constructed antagonistic armor.

“I wish I could believe that,” she shook her head sadly, “I wish she could believe that. At least when she did, she wasn’t crying herself to sleep every night.”

Sour regret burned in his throat at the thought of your tears dripping onto your pillowcase, some unfamiliar heartache he didn’t understand. 

“Maybe you could convince her that I do,” he offered, “she listens to you.”

“Why would I do that?” Carter snapped.

“Because then she wouldn’t be so sad,” his voice was so feeble it was like he was shrinking right before her eyes, his tall, intimidating frame so small and inadequate under the towering shadow of his guilt.

“Tell you what Rafe,” she began, “I’ll try and convince her that you care about her if you can look me in the eyes and tell me with your whole chest that you won’t hurt her anymore, that you won’t use her to your advantage, or drop off the face of the earth for weeks not answering her texts, or kiss other girls right in front of her face. That you’ll fight for her and put her before your own selfish bullshit. Can you make that promise?”

He wrung his hands, mindlessly adjusting the ring on his right forefinger, jaw clenched as he tried to will forth a convincing enough yes. He couldn’t do it.

“That’s what I thought,” Carter said. “If you can’t fight for her, then…”

“What?” He asked desperately, hoping she’d offer him some olive branch shaped way out of the  shame engulfing his chest.

“Then I am asking you- begging you really - to let her go. Stop texting, stop coming by the house, stop making promises you’re not gonna keep. Please. If not for me, then for her.”

“Do you think that’s what she wants?” He asked.

“No. But I think it’s what she needs,” she said, knowing it would kill you if you knew she was doing this, but believing with her whole heart that it was right.

Rafe rarely thought about the future. The farthest his mind went was the next few minutes in front of him. It was his fatal flaw, acting for the moment and not for the moment after, or the version of himself that would face the consequences of his poor choices. Yet, in this moment, he had the keen sense that his next move would be a pivotal one, the gravity of it making his feet feel heavy on the stone pathway. He could stay, he could argue, scream your name until you came out and talked to him. But then what? Would he have the courage to follow through? Was he enough of a man to handle the weight of your expectation?

Ultimately, he knew the right thing was to stay and fight, but the easy thing would be to just go.

So, as he almost always did, Rafe made the easy choice.

“Okay,” he nodded to Carter. “I’ll let her go.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice shaking with the fear that if you knew what she just convinced him to do, you’d never forgive her. 

“I’m not doing it for you,” he made sure she knew before turning and climbing back into his truck.

Once in the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone, looking at your name in his contacts. Like his fingers were moving without his mind’s permission, he deleted you. It didn’t matter really, he thought, he’d remember your number on his deathbed. He’d remember it all, and he’d hate himself forever for driving away.

Carter stayed on the porch, watching him go, praying desperately that you’d never find out she was the reason he left.

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“We’re gonna have to go back eventually,” you said.

Rafe sat behind you in the sand, holding you with his chin resting easy on your shoulder as you took in the sprawling pink sunrise together. 

“Says who?” He countered.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. His eyelids were heavy, purple under the eyes from the exhaustion of being awake all night.

“You’re falling asleep,” you noticed.

“Yeah because some girl kept me up all night, begging me to take her to the beach and kiss her,” he joked.

“Excuse me, sir, this was your idea!” You sat up and stretched, your words making him laugh despite his immediate discomfort at the loss of your body in his arms. “What time is it anyway?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “my phone’s in the car.”

“Mine too,” you chuckled, “I hope Carter’s okay. She was looking rough before we left.”

He had half a mind to propose the two of you never leave the beach, but he could hear the genuine concern under your lighthearted words. He stood from the sand and dusted himself off, reaching out a hand to pull you to your feet. You took it with a smile, lingering for a moment as you stood, your hand in his, taking one last look around the beach, searching for some kind of landmark.

“What are you looking for?” He asked.

“I just want to remember exactly where we were,” you explained.

“Why, you wanna recreate it?” He smiled softly at you.

“Oh, I plan to recreate it many times,” you wink at him.

It took all his strength to leave that spot and head back to the car, back to the house full of people who weren’t you, back to reality.

“I can drive,” he suggested, planning to take the slowest route possible, and actually follow the speed limit for the first time in his life.

As soon as he started the car up, your CD started blasting through the speakers. You laughed at each other, the catalyst of this whole encounter feeling like it was days ago. The time on the car radio told you it’d only been about two hours. You lifted your phone but the screen remained black.

“Shit, it’s dead,” you told him, opening the glovebox and digging around for a charger.

While you were distracted, Rafe lifted his own phone from the cupholder he’d left it in. His screen did light up, displaying a slew of frantic texts from Topper and Kelce. He winced, wishing he hadn’t looked. He didn’t read the texts, not wanting whatever nonsense they were bothering him with to pop the blissful bubble wrapped around the two of you. He knew he shouldn’t start off your new…whatever this was…by lying to you, but he needed to stay in this happy place just a little longer.

“Mine’s dead too,” he lied, flipping the phone over in the cup holder to hide the screen.

“Of course Carter doesn’t have a charger,” you sighed, “she has like twenty hair ties and lipglosses, but no charger. Classic.”

“I know my way back,” he shrugged, “we’ll be good.”

Rafe put the car in reverse, backing out of the little side road with his arm on the seat next to your head. You watched the way he turned in his seat to look out the back window, neck muscles flexing with the stretch and his big hand manipulating the steering wheel with ease. 

For the first time in the sixteen years you’d known him, you didn’t try to hide your gaze as you took him in. The same attraction that used to make you feel skittish and ashamed now settled over you peacefully, like an icy winter finally melting into a warm, bright spring. You looked at him all you wanted, noting every detail, taking mental photographs of every inch of his skin.

You’d always thought he was cute - actually, no, you always thought he was hot as fuck - but now for the first time, you allowed yourself to look long enough to notice how beautiful he was. Pins and needles burst out all over your body as you realized how badly you needed to kiss him again.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him as he drove, choosing not to say anything and risk you looking away. He felt at home in your gaze, happier than he could ever remember being.

Inhibitions left back on the beach, you fearlessly reached out toward him, hand grazing gently over his jaw. You loved the ticklish little stubble that had grown there in just a few days without shaving. You smiled as you thought about the boy who could barely grow peach fuzz, now a man, strong and solid under your fingertips. Something warm and electric buzzed in your stomach, and you knew Rafe could feel it too, his skin heating under your tender touch.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road but leaning slightly into your hand to encourage you to keep touching him.

“Nothing,” you smiled, “I’ve just never gotten to look at you this long.”

“Is it making you change your mind?” He smirked, clearly not worried about the answer, his confidence making him impossibly sexier.

“Just the opposite,” you confirmed, “I think you’re always gonna have to drive from now on.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well now that I’ve gotten a good look I don’t think I could keep my eyes on the road. I always had the hardest time not looking over at you.”

Rafe grinned wide as your hand slipped from his jaw to the back of his head, fingers lacing in his soft hair, scratching his scalp lovingly. There was no rhyme or reason to your movements, but you didn’t care, you just needed your hands on him. He didn’t seem to mind, head leaning back into your palm to let you know he needed you as much as you needed him.

“I know you did,” he said.

“How?” You asked.

“Because I could never keep myself from looking over at you,” he confessed.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered their way through your chest. Now you were certain- you’d never been more attracted to anyone as you were to him in this moment.

Rafe took your silent smile as a good sign, “did I get another A with that line?”

Your hand slid slowly down to his shoulder, over the ridges and ripples of his arms, flexing under your soft touch, until you found his hand, pulling it into your own. 

“Gold stars, baby,” you smiled.

Rafe’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the air in the car becoming thicker by the second as he shifted in his seat. You beamed at him, realizing with a flurry of excitement - you had Rafe Cameron flustered.

“You like when I call you baby?” You purred, eager to see how far you could push it.

His grip tightened around your hand, “you can’t say shit like that to me when I’m driving.”

You could feel the dam breaking. You needed him. Now.

“Then pull over.”

He finally took his eyes off the road for a second at that, looking over at you for confirmation; are you serious? You gave him a steely, lustful look in return; as a heart attack.

Rafe practically popped a tire turning the wheel hard and pulling the car down a side street, driving until he found a little secluded enclave by the beach, a perfectly private spot. He threw the car in park, making you laugh at the jolt it gave with his urgency. He didn’t waste a second, reaching both hands over to grab your face and pull your lips to his.

You sighed into his mouth, no hesitancy holding you back from slipping your tongue between his lips. He pulled away just long enough to grit out a raspy, “come here,” before throwing his seatbelt off.

You unbuckled your own, holding tight to his shoulders as you swung your leg over the console and climbed, somewhat awkwardly, into his lap. Your head fell back in laughter as your butt accidentally pressed the horn, the sound blasting through the quiet morning air. Rafe laughed too, easing your slight embarrassment as he reached down to slide the seat back.

Once you had more room, you pulled back to get a better look at him. He looked up at you with wide blue eyes, so gentle and kind in the way they took you in. Rafe reached up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, taking a deep breath as his hands grazed your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered to fill the silence.

You cracked the slightest smile, unable to repress your amusement.

“What?” He puzzled.

“I just didn’t imagine you to be so…sweet like this,” you explained, though you hated how the words sounded coming out of your mouth, afraid it would sound like a criticism and cause him to withdraw.

“Only for you,” he said.

“Uh oh,” you teased, hands laying flat over his chest as you leaned forward, relieved you hadn’t ruined the moment after all, “is big bad Rafe Cameron going weak for me?”

“He always has been,” he nodded, his dimples creasing his cheeks with his sheepish smile.

You slid your hands up to either side of his face, thumbs dipping into his dimples. You’d always wanted to do that. You couldn’t believe that after all that waiting and longing, you really could just lean forward and kiss him if you wanted to. 

So you did, like you were trying to prove to yourself that this was actually real. The second your lips met his, you could tell he was thinking the same exact thing.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips as he sat up off the seat just slightly to meet your mouth fervently. You bent over him, your hair falling in a curtain around his face. His hands felt so good, so right, warm and strong against you. You smiled into the kiss as you could feel them sliding so slowly, reverently, over your curves, until they found a home on your lower back, bringing you forward to rest fully against him. It was the same gentle control he had taken on the jetski, and it was addictive.

He was hard, you could feel him firm beneath you, and your head flooded with lustful thoughts. You rolled your body just slightly against him, but he felt every second of it, his hands sliding lower until he was kneading the flesh of your ass. Breathless, you paused, forehead against, another roll of your body as you pressed into him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He breathed, chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

“No, don’t, I’ve wanted this for so long,” it came out more desperate than you planned, but you didn’t care, you needed him to know.

“Me too, kid, you have no idea,” he smiled.

Your nose scrunched, pulling back to look at him with narrow eyes, “kid? Really?”

“Well you don’t like when I call you baby, so…”

“That is not what I said,” you laughed, “I said don’t say things you don’t mean. You can call me whatever you want, as long as you mean it”

“In that case…” he leaned in again, hands on either side of your face as his lips met yours before pulling away to meet your eyes as he said, “hey baby.”

You melted into him, his hands cradling your head the only thing keeping you grounded to the planet. He littered your face and jaw with slow, deliberate kisses, working his way toward your neck as he whispered more sweet pet names into your skin.

“Beautiful,” with a kiss to your jaw, “angel,” with a kiss to your neck, just below your ear, “my girl,” with a kiss to your collarbone, lingering to suck on the skin right at the base of your neck, marking you lightly.

Your whole body pulled him in tighter, dizzy with the ecstasy of having him like this. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just hard enough to tell him how good he was making you feel. You couldn’t resist but push down into his hardness, muscles tense as his lips tickled the sensitive skin around the collar of your shirt.

“Rafe…” you sighed out as he continued to suck lip shaped marks into you, his hands kneading your ass, arms strong around you like he alone was the one keeping you tethered to the earth.

He pulled away from you just far enough to look you in the eyes, his pupils blown out. There was a kind of darkness in his eyes, sending excitement, and maybe even a touch of fear, shooting through your body. You wondered what would happen if he dropped the gentleness and really seized control, longing to be the one to send him to that place.

“Are you?” He whispered. Hunger, lust, and some more vulnerable third thing laced the deep tenor of his voice as his eyes searched yours, “are you my girl?”

His brows were furrowed so tight with intensity, you worried he was gonna give himself a headache. 

You ran your thumb over the scrunched skin on his forehead, smoothing it out, gentle but firm. You continued to run your fingers over his face, both to put him at ease and to buy yourself time, the answer to his question stuck somewhere in your chest, unwilling or unable to make its way to your tongue.

“I…” you started, the worry growing back on his face at the sound of your hesitation.

Before you could finish the thought, a loud DING! rang out through the quiet car, making you both jump.

“I thought you said your phone was dead?” You questioned, more edge to your tone than you’d meant, frustration over the interruption seeping into your words.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just wanted more time with you.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a bit non-committal in your forgiveness. “Who is it?”

Rafe sighed as he retrieved his phone from the cupholder, reading the most recent message.

“It’s Top,” he answered, “he’s saying we should get back to the house but won’t say why. So dramatic.”

You chuckled softly, relief washing through Rafe at the return of your smile.

“We should probably go then,” you said, “if for no other reason than I’m nosy and want to know what’s going on.”

He nodded slowly, hands reluctantly letting you go “we’ll come back to this, though, right?”

You knew he meant more than just the kiss and your intimate position in Carter’s front seat. He meant this; the big ‘What Are We?’

Never in a million years would you have guessed that he’d be the one posing the question, or that you’d have this hard of a time coming up with the answer.

(Chapter 8: part two)

a/n: entering my 'posting what's ready when it's ready and not caring about word count' era, welcome!!

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