#why am I sleeping with my phone under my pillow?

[dragon-phoenix-along]

FOR THOSE OF YOU WONDERING WHY THE PERSON WITH “freak who Cares About YOU” in their bio is awake rn

MY LOVELY WONDERFUL HORRIBLY FUCKING SLEEP DEPRIVED FRIENDS HAVE DECIDED TO ROLEPLAY.

ITS 2AM IN THEIR TIMEZONE

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

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

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol) | part one | part three | part four

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,” 

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly. 

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,” 

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home. 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek. 

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,” 

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close. 

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“ 

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?” 

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips— 

RING. RING. RING. 

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams. 

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out. 

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then. 

Probably not. That would be far too lucky. 

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed. 

It was too much of a risk. 

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs— 

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you. 

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky. 

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now. 

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other. 

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking. 

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream. 

Perfect. 

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,” 

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?” 

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?” 

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?” 

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here. 

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy. 

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began. 

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?” 

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?” 

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—” 

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive? 

Fucking unfair. 

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what? 

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,” 

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,” 

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’ 

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,” 

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,” 

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of. 

“And I want us to do that—” 

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?” 

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over. 

It didn’t. 

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk. 

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.” 

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter? 

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see. 

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea,  most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,” 

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library. 

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,” 

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer. 

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence. 

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression. 

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—” 

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,” 

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, “Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes. 

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward. 

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,”  you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one. 

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew. 

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you calling me self absorbed?” 

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,” 

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped. 

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, 

God he’s even pretty when he blushes. 

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,” 

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,” 

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?” 

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?” 

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus. 

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?” 

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,” 

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester. 

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students. 

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,” 

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.” 

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over. 

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students. 

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material. 

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right? 

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else. 

Something you knew very well. 

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you. 

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?” 

You blink, “how’d you know that?” 

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds. 

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,” 

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?” 

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,” 

“What students?” 

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,” 

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium. 

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly. 

“No,” and he only smiles wider. 

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,” 

“I’m not—“ 

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,” 

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again. 

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,” 

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,” 

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started. 

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you. 

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since. 

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing? 

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you. 

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best. 

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was. 

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester? 

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst. 

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross. 

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,” 

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.  

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand? 

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?” 

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you. 

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?” 

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,” 

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning? 

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for? 

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks. 

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” 

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery. 

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly. 

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions. 

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide. 

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you. 

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. 

God, this wasn’t a dream was it? 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you. 

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he— 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?” 

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?” 

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. 

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity. 

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?” 

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?” 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him. 

Nothing good ever came from your want. 

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze. 

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be. 

“I���m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade,  “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add. 

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,” 

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,” 

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?” 

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,” 

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,” 

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?” 

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him. 

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,” 

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter. 

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about. 

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep). 

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions. 

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days. 

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work. 

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook. 

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him. 

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down. 

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week. 

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy  — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,” 

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“ 

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?” 

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise. 

So you make the decision for both of you. 

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do.  He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor. 

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter. 

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?” 

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?” 

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone. 

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly. 

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,” 

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“ 

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” 

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him. 

But why did it hurt so goddamn much? 

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.  

Was it really not a big deal to him? 

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two. 

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.” 

Just fine. 

“There was a problem with your reservation,” 

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”  

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed. 

One. Bed. 

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town. 

“There is a couch though,” he offers,  pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone. 

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?” 

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show? 

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders. 

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down. 

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head. 

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,” 

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?” 

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“ 

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“ 

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,” 

“We’re both adults—“ 

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation. 

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone. 

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,” 

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,” 

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?” 

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower. 

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not). 

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin. 

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry. 

Oh. My. God. 

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door. 

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him. 

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek. 

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground. 

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open. 

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,” 

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,” 

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it. 

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face. 

This was going to be a long weekend. 

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see. 

Fuck his life. 

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor. 

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once. 

God, he sighed, it was such a mess. 

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem. 

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water. 

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most. 

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds. 

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth. 

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water.  Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat. 

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out. 

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you. 

It didn’t. 

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep. 

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in. 

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he? 

Not when it was you. 

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack. 

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side. 

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it 

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar. 

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck. 

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do. 

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,” 

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him. 

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink. 

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“ 

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?” 

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,” 

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?” 

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t. 

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,” 

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,” 

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside. 

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,” 

“Professor—“ 

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“ 

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.” 

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,” 

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,” 

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs. 

“Of him?” 

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,” 

“Not your type?” he asks. 

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car. 

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“ 

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?” 

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“ 

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur. 

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters. 

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be— 

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,” 

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,” 

“No—“ 

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,” 

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,” 

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,” 

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same. 

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep. 

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it. 

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it. 

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop. 

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight. 

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep. 

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight. 

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely. 

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title? 

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he? 

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman. 

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair? 

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut. 

Just for a moment. 

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you. 

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor. 

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect. 

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine. 

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet. 

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow. 

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you. 

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto. 

So much for sticking to your sides. 

Fuck.  

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard. 

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was  against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with. 

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with. 

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him. 

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM. 

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM? 

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs,  jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s. 

Fuck. 

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart. 

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him. 

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning. 

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist. 

Fuck. 

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now. 

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away? 

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?” 

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down. 

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats. 

Could this possibly get worse? 

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car. 

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead. 

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand. 

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck. 

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down. 

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help. 

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go. 

But you didn’t know how to begin to. 

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed. 

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone. 

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be. 

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head. 

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this? 

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,” 

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention. 

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“ 

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone. 

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh. 

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,” 

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“ 

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”  

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“ 

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp. 

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well. 

And you realize how close you are to him. 

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either. 

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go. 

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again. 

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity. 

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut. 

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat. 

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried. 

RING. RING. RING. 

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality. 

The department head. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.” 

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start. 

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken. 

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you. 

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed. 

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake. 

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart. 

Was this fate versus free will? 

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart. 

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto — 

And so maybe he should let it. 

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper. 

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open. 

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words. 

Just as you always were it seemed. 

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop? 

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try. 

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?” 

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,” 

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?” 

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?” 

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself. 

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this. 

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that. 

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A. 

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor. 

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was. 

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“ 

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,” 

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,” 

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,” 

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end? 

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?” 

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“ 

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent. 

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-” 

“It was unspoken—” 

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft. 

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—” 

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—” 

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle. 

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch. 

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—” 

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile. 

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?” 

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist. 

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?” 

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—” 

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open. 

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need. 

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?” 

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—” 

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip. 

RING. RING. RING. 

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—” 

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,” 

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again. 

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body. 

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?” 

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

[himbodruid]

Crying Wolf

My take on the 105 affinity Secret Times audio 😏

Intended for 18+ readers ONLY. MINORS DNI

Sylus x Reader/You

Breeding kink (probably)-:- marking -:- possessive sex -:- soft sex -:- consent is hot -:- aftercare

Fic Master List

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The soft plinking sounds of the silly game you were playing echoed in the otherwise vacant room. You’d awoken from disturbing dreams in your own bed at the base, and snuck into Sylus’s room. And now you were curled up on his bed and clutching one of his pillows to your chest. He wasn’t home yet and it was a day off for you, but you figured he wouldn’t mind you borrowing his space.

“What are you playing?”

His voice suddenly appearing right next to your ear startled you and made you jump. Your hand struck out on instinct, which he caught with a chuckle before it could connect with his face.

“Shit, Sylus, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Are you trying to scare me?” You settled back down, trying to calm your adrenaline.

“Am I trying to scare you? You’re overthinking it, love.” He chuckled again at your pout.

“Still rude to sneak up on people like that.”

“Meanwhile, Miss Hunter didn’t even notice me when I was this close.” He leaned in, sending your pulse racing again for a different reason. “Your lack of vigilance is worryin-“

With a scowl, you slapped your hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. He was right, but you wouldn’t willingly admit it. Could he hardly blame you for feeling safe in his space?

You felt him smile under your hand for a brief moment, before he pulled it away from his mouth and flashed you that devilish half smirk of his. “You’re that eager to shut me up? Oh, you’re gonna need more than just your hands, Kitten.”

The tension that had built in those few seconds was interrupted by the sound of your game ending. Your phone was still in your other hand, but it had been all but forgotten when you got lost in Sylus’s predatory gaze.

“Oops, guess you lost,” he rumbled without breaking eye contact with you. Amusement twinkled in his eye. “Sorry for interrupting your game.”

You cleared your throat and looked away from him. You hated how easily he could get under your skin, with just a simple look from those cat-like crimson eyes of his. You made to return to your game and start again.

“But I remember an hour ago, someone promised to go to bed early starting today.”

“Oh, so you did see my text,” you muttered under your breath. He pretended not to hear you though.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” The smile in his voice made you want to reach out and punch him. Instead, you reined in the impulse and restarted the game.

“I haven’t forgotten. This is a sleep aid game,” you said with a huff, pointedly ignoring his presence now.

“You…play a game to help you fall asleep. This is the first time I’ve heard of it.” He made a noise of suspicion and leaned in again. “Looks like someone’s trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and scooted over on his bed. He rose from the chair he’d been occupying and sat next to you at your beckoning, and raised a brow when you handed him your phone with a freshly started game.

“Why are you giving it to me? I’m not into these little games.” He said gruffly.

“Just try it,” you say. “I’m trying to prove my innocence here.”

With a chuckle, he accepted your phone. “Alright, we can do that. Scoot over.”

You shifted over some more, placing the pillow you’d been cuddling back against the headboard. He stretched out languidly beside you, resting against the pillow you’d just placed, and held out an arm to you.

“Come here, rest your head on my arm,” he commanded softly. You smiled and laid beside him, where his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and immediately his hand began tracing soft patterns against your arm.

“Now then. Shall we get started?” You explained basic concepts of the game to him and showed him what to do, trying not to zero in your focus on his deft fingers lazily brushing your skin. After three sheep appeared on screen, Sylus paused.

“So the whole point of this game is to count sheep?”

“I mean, I tried to tell you it was a sleep aid game, but you didn’t believe me,” you laughed. He smirked back.

“Well, it is boring enough to make anyone fall asleep.”

With a playful punch to his chest, you took up your phone again and continued playing. You were trying hard not to focus on all the points where your bodies touched, trying to cool the heat that was slowly settling into you as he continued to trail his hand on you. You were trying not to lose yourself in the smoky spice scent of him. You were pretty sure he could feel your racing heartbeat, maybe even hear it, so you threw your focus into the game and tried hard to ignore how much you wanted to straddle him at that moment.

“Hmm…how many have we counted?” His voice was rough, like he was distracted. It took all of your effort not to squirm against him.

“You’d know if you’d stay focused,” you replied, thankful that your voice was steady. You were entirely too conscious of the fact that his shirt was stretched taut across his chest, and the sleep pants were slung low enough on his hips you could almost see his v-line.

“It’s not that I’m unfocused. Your hair is tickling my neck,” he rumbled. You scowled at him again.

“Seriously?” Was all you could think to say. He chuckled.

“Yes, it tickles. Only a little, though. Do you need me to help you tame this unruly hair of yours?”

Before you could give him an answer, his hand reached up and brushed strands of hair away from your face. His palm lingered on your cheek for the briefest of moments before moving down your neck. The action in no way removed your hair from his vicinity, but his focus was solely on you in that moment. Your breath hitched as his palm traveled further and then flattened against your collar bone. His eyes followed the contour of your neck before resting on the dainty necklace that rested in the hollow of your throat. You could see hunger ignite in his eyes when he saw it.

“Hmmh. Isn’t this the collarbone necklace I gave you?” He murmured while fingering the pendant. “My taste is pretty good, I guess.”

“Yes,” you say almost dumbly. “I love it.”

“It is very pretty,” he murmured, leaning over you. You couldn’t tell if he meant the necklace or your neck as he buried his face there. You thought you could feel his lips ghosting over your skin and the soft gasp that escaped you was nearly involuntary.

“S-Sylus, what are you doing?” You questioned, hating how breathless your voice was. He took a moment before replying, not bothering to pull himself away from you.

“Nothing. I just thought,” he said, punctuating with a soft kiss to your collarbone, “this spot was very enticing.”

His mouth descended onto your collarbone once more, a full open-mouth kiss that you couldn’t hold back your gasp at. Teeth scraped against your skin and then he latched onto you in such a way that you knew would leave a mark. It hurt at first, the aggressive pull of his mouth, but then there was a zing of rapture that flowed through you when he released you. His breath tickled across your now-damp skin and you shivered.

“It tastes just as I imagined it to be,” he murmured. “I wonder what this will taste like.”

Sylus moved to the opposite side of your collarbone now, his hand cradling your head while he gave the same treatment to that side. You tried your hardest to calm your thundering heart, to quell the heat that raced through you, to soothe the blush that spread mercilessly from your face to your now nearly exposed chest. You felt embarrassed at how quickly and easily he was able to turn you on. The sounds of the game came back to you and you desperately tried to return your attention to it. This didn’t escape Sylus’s notice.

“What? How many sheep are there now?” He nuzzled into your neck. “You’re still concerned about them? Looks like I haven’t gotten your undivided attention yet.”

“S-Sy,” you started, unable to find words when your breath came short.

“I don’t like you being so far away from me,” he growled before rolling his bulk atop you. You dropped your phone onto the mattress, the game forgotten now. “Come closer, let’s cuddle.”

You knew your face was aflame as he leaned down to nuzzle and kiss your neck. In a desperate bid to escape embarrassment, you mutter the lamest excuse you could. “B-but Sylus, it’s too warm.”

“To be honest,” a kiss on your neck, full of tongue, interrupted his thought, “it…can get even warmer. Than. This.”

His mouth found yours then, and he coaxed you open to him so that his tongue could plunge in and tangle with yours. You inhaled sharply, unable to keep your hands from him any longer. You kissed him back in equal fervor, not entirely ignorant to the hard length of him resting against your belly. Your hands combed through his silk-soft hair, all but holding him to you.

A sudden plink from your discarded phone brought you back to your senses. You were kissing Sylus. The two of you had been intimate in other ways, but nothing nearly as far as this yet. Holding hands, quick pecks on the cheek, chaste kisses here and there. But nothing so all-consuming, so passionate.

“Hmm? Oh. We lost,” rumbled Sylus against your lips. You turned your head and looked at your phone.

“Hmm. Looks like a wolf snuck in because you weren’t focused on our sheep,” you admonished lightly.

“Yeah. All of them were eaten,” Sylus replied with a smug smirk. He returned to burying his face against your neck. “How do you think those sheep were eaten? Like…this?”

He raked his teeth against the slope of your neck. You didn’t even have the mind to feel embarrassed about the moan that slipped from you.

“Or…like this?” His lips moved to the other side. A heavy, charged sigh escaped from him as he all but worshipped your neck. Kisses, bites, even rolling his tongue against your pulse. You were unravelling beneath him, and then his hand had the audacity to add to the sensations by running down the length of you. Your breaths came in short gasps and you longed to completely wrap yourself around him.

“I take back what I said about the game. It does have some redeeming qualities.”

The comment was so sudden, you couldn’t muster a response. All you could do was watch him with eyes half-lidded by desire while he elaborated.

“For instance, it is very realistic.” He gave another one of those heated sighs, followed by a soft growl while his hand continued to roam your body. You were fully aware now of his cock resting heavy against you, still held by the prison of his sleep pants. Somewhere he had wedged a knee between your own and was slowly sliding his way fully between your thighs. You could feel the heat blazing in your face and looked away from his assessing and possessive gaze.

It just happened that your attention fell back to your phone.

“Where are your eyes going? Honestly, I don’t think you need to get your phone back.”

You looked back to him, and he hiked your leg up to hook around his hip. The length of him was now pressed against your core, hot and hard.

“If you need a sleep aid, then I can fulfill that role.”

You felt like your brain was going to short circuit. Out of a desperate attempt to hide your madly blushing face, you covered it with the comforter.

“A sheep can’t escape if it’s trapped under the covers,” he said, tugging them away. “So, is this little lamb prepared?”

Another moan escaped you unbidden as he pressed his hips into yours.

“A wolf is coming,” he growled into your ear.

Fuck, I sure hope he will, you thought.

His mouth found yours again, and his roaming hand slipped underneath the cotton tank top you were wearing. Like electricity on your skin, his touch sent shivers through you. His thumb found your breast first, and then the rest of his hand engulfed the mound of flesh. You couldn’t help but arch into his touch, releasing pleased gasps into his fierce kiss.

Next thing you knew, your shirt was pushed up above your breasts and his hot mouth moved to teasing them. His tongue swirled around the nipple of one, while his hand continued kneading the other.

“S-Sylus,” you moaned with a shuddering breath. His teeth scraped against the underside and your hands dug into his scalp at the sensation. Your back bowed, arching firmly into his touch until his mouth moved further down. A blazing trail of kisses and bites all the way down your torso until he came to the hem of your shorts. All the while he kept his crimson gaze locked on your face, thoroughly enjoying the reactions he elicited from you.

He tugged at the hem, offering a silent question to you and going no further until you nodded your consent and lifted your hips for him. He stripped shorts and underwear away in one swift motion, and suddenly you were bared so intimately, so lewdly for him. You tried to pin your knees together, but he was already there, mouth at your hip and drawing out a mark to match the ones on your collarbone.

“I think,” he said, detaching from your skin, “I might enjoy seeing my marks on you a little too much.”

Your gaze landed on the bruise-like mark he left on your hip and you had to agree with him. Something about seeing his smirking mouth hovering there and a hickey darkening was just absurdly hot.

You let your head fall back into the pillow, covering your face with an arm. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Sylus.”

“Is that so?” He chuckled. “If you permit me, I can easily give you a little death, as a treat.”

Somehow your face flamed hotter at his innuendo. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, as you felt his thumb brushing through the soft fringe at your core.

“Mmh,” he growled. “So wet for me already, Kitten.”

And then his tongue followed the touch, and you were lost. A moan escaped from you, your hands flying to tangle once again in his hair. If he hated that you were messing up said hair, he didn’t say a word. In fact, the action seemed to provoke him further and he soon added fingers curling into your cunt. He worked you hard until you spilled over the edge with his name falling from your lips like a chant.

He crawled back up your body, planting a soft kiss before pulling away. He caressed your cheek while he gave you the tenderest of looks. It appeared he wanted to say something, but held himself back. Instead, he opted to lean forward and kiss your forehead.

And then the infuriating man tugged the comforter over you and made to leave.

“Wait, what?” You panicked and grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

“It’s late, Kitten, and you need to sleep.”

“No! I-“ your words were cut off by his chuckle.

“As much as I want to, Kitten, I hadn’t really prepared for sex. I don’t have any protection.”

You eased your shoulders, secretly relieved that he wasn’t rejecting you per se.

“That’s simple, though,” you say, swinging your arm wide and showing him the tiniest of protrusions on the inner side of your arm. “The Association pays for all of us to get temporarily sterilized. Those of us that want it, anyway. It lasts for five years, and I got it put in a few months ago because-“

You cut your words off, completely aware that you were rambling and embarrassing yourself further. You looked away, hating how desperate you sounded. But it was true, after being with Sylus and getting to know him, you wanted to prepare for a ‘just in case’ kinda situation just like this one. When he didn’t move or respond, you began shuffling yourself back under the duvet in awkward self-consciousness.

His hand shot out to stop you, though. “I truly don’t deserve you.”

With that, you were stripped bare before him once again. The duvet was discarded, and his crimson gaze followed every curve and edge of your body. It was like he was trying to memorize the picture of you naked in his bed.

“So damn beautiful,” he growled before falling upon you once again. His kisses were needy and hungry, working to quickly reignite your every sense. Your hands worked to slide his own shirt from his body, discarding it alongside your own clothing. The valleys of his abs called to you and you were unable to resist touching. Your fingers traveled the dips and rise of his torso, earning you panting groans from him. Testing, you allowed one hand to go even further downward. When he didn’t stop you at the hem of his pants, boldness overtook you and you grasped at the prominent bulge over the fabric.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking forward of their own volition. He let his head fall against your chest with rough kisses while you pressed and kneaded the length of him in wonder. He was very clearly a large man as he all but dwarfed your petite frame underneath him, but down there he was also exceptionally large.

“How in the world is this supposed to fit,” you wondered aloud while still stroking him. He chuckled darkly in your ear, rolling his hips into your touch.

“Why don’t we find out, Kitten.”

His mouth engulfed yours again while he worked to strip the pants from his body. His tongue swept into your mouth, undulating in a way that suggested he was about to do that to you with his cock. Finally his hips nestled between your thighs, and you could feel how big he was resting against your body. You opened as wide as you could for him while his hips continued rolling forward and back. While not penetrating, his cock still dragged deliciously against your folds, urging your heart to pick up pace in anticipation.

And then, gods, the moment he pierced you, you wanted to cum. His movement was infuriatingly slow as he allowed you time to become accustomed to his girth first, and then his length last. You let your head fall back into his pillows, his name tumbling from you as you clung to him desperately.

And then he stilled, though you could tell by his shaking that it took all of his effort to hold back.

“Fuck, you feel so good on me, Kitten,” he whined. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, ensuring that he couldn’t suddenly change his mind and pull away from you in that moment.

A slight tilt of your hips and a clenching of your walls, and he nearly collapsed atop you at the forceful pleasure that rocketed up his spine. His moan was deep, guttural, and damn near feral. It only goaded you into shifting your hips again to rattle him further. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and fuck the feel of him slamming so impossibly deep into you was almost enough to throw you over the edge.

“Sylus, please,” you whimpered to him. His gaze found yours and locked on as he so slowly pulled himself out, right to the tip. And then his hips rocketed forward and the force of him slamming into you all but ripped his name from you as a scream.

From there, the frenzied coupling reached a crescendo so quickly that neither of you were prepared for the full force of pleasure that toppled you over the edge. His cock was buried in you and responded in kind when your walls fluttered and milked him. You took every last bit he had to offer, and still he wasn’t done with you.

He shifted your legs so that the backs of your knees rested in his elbows, and he all but folded you in half while he pistoned into you. All you could do was cling to him, crying out in the pleasure he ripped so vehemently from you. The new position let him fuck into you even deeper somehow, and gods the way his cock dragged against your inner walls.

And the sounds he made only added fuel to the fire. Grunting moans, harsh whispers of praise, guttural growls. All of them possessed you, making you respond to him in kind between other cries of pleasure. His name became like a prayer with the frequency it tumbled from your lips, and gods when he growled out your name you were gone.

Climax swept through both of you again swiftly, more hot ropes of cum flooding you only to be used as lubricant while he continued to pound into you.

Three times he brought you over the edge and he jumped alongside you. Three times before he finally released your cramping legs and let them rest back around his hips. More marks dotted your body, and you added your own collection to his neck and chest.

Three times your body milked his, and yet he was still so impossibly hard inside you. You would be surprised if you weren’t leaking his cum for days after this.

“Fuck, Kitten, you feel so damn good. I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop fucking you,” he growled.

The pace of his thrusts slowed in reverent worship of your body. You could feel him more fully than the rapid driving of the last three rounds. You could feel how the scooped edge of the head caught and dragged along your walls, tugging and pushing electric shocks of pleasure that coursed through you. And gods the hard push of his hips when he buried fully to the hilt, the feel of his sac compressing against the slick of your combined cum. The sticky feel of it all when he pulls away with the obscene sounds echoing in the room with your twinned heavy breathing. The slow ascent of your pleasure was near infuriating, but you knew that the fall would be much sweeter, more intense.

“This is how I originally wanted to take you,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed the two marks on opposite ends of your collarbone. “But you feel too damn good, I couldn’t control myself.”

You could only respond with a moan as his cock continued to brush against that sweet spot inside you. Your legs slid up his body to bracket his torso, the slight shift just enough to give him even further access.

“Sylus, you feel so fucking good,” you whimpered to him, your nails digging into his back.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he said, nuzzling his face into your neck. He was doing that a lot, almost as if he was trying to absorb the scent of you.

“Yes,” you hissed. “Take me.”

“Come with me, Kitten.”

At his words and a final hard thrust of his hips, you shattered beneath him. Your body arched off the bed, limbs jerking with your head thrown back into the pillows. His name echoed into the room from your pleasured screams. This climax was the most intense one you’ve ever had, threatening your consciousness with black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. It was like Sylus had lit your entire body on fire with electricity. It crackled through you, your body’s convulsing no longer yours to control as you just tried to continue to cling to him.

You could feel his own orgasm steamroll through him as well. His hips jerked erratically as his cock twitched and pulsed inside you. His moans in your ear were punctuated by panting breaths and guttural growls. His sac grew taut and then he was spilling into you once more. He experienced full body trembling, quivering, spasming, and his desperate moans filled the room with yours.

His cock finally seemed to be through and he slipped from you. He left the bed without a word, coming back seconds later from the bathroom with a warm rag to help clean you up and a cool glass of water that you chugged. You were embarrassed but grateful at his care- though it was almost for naught as the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other in the shower. It seemed like there would be a never ending stream of cum flowing from your cunt with how many times he couldn’t resist burying himself in you.

After several more rounds in various positions, you were finally tucked against him and nodding off to the sleep you should have had at least six hours ago.

__

When you finally did wake, Sylus had stepped out with instructions to the twins to bring you breakfast and whatever else you wanted. Unfortunately for you, Sylus didn’t think about any kind of implications when he directed them to his room instead of your own. To make matters worse, you were bundled in his blankets, looking like you were still exhausted from a night of little to no sleep due to Sylus’s bullshit stamina.

The twins, though, were so obnoxiously delighted by the news that you “finally slept with the boss” that they kept trying to high five you whilst you were trying to fight them away out of embarrassment.

You got no peace that night or day, but it didn’t stop the contented grin that planted itself on your face.

[goldenstring6123]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNXxJ8TM/

THIS IS SO CUTE PLS I CAN SO CLEARLY SEE THE LADS MEN DOING THIS 😭 and the comment section had me dying where is evb finding these MEN 😔🙏

Lnds: Sleepy time!

Warning: No warnings, afab!reader, fem!reader

Authors note: Fluff (not a lot of it) and a bit of domestic stuff.

Sylus:

It had been 30 minutes since you left the bedroom. Sylus was already well on his side of the mattress, reading the news while waiting for you to come back. He thought you were just up and about doing your normal routine of drinking herbal tea and doing skincare, but it was taking you far longer than usual.

He settled the tablet down on the nightstand and walked out of the bedroom. He searched for you in every room he passed by, and when he arrived at the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, there you were, perfectly tucked in under the unused duvet.

You were curled into a ball and too engrossed in the video you were watching; you didn't even notice the black fuzzy threads wrapping around your weird curled-up position. You lifted off from the bed, and when you came to, the view was of Sylus' back as you involuntarily made your way back to his bedroom.

"So you're not going to put me down?" you asked, paying attention to the video again. "Are manners not a thing anymore?"

The brooding man didn't spare you a glance. "I'm not open for discussion. You're supposed to sleep in my bedroom. Our bedroom."

"I just wanted a bed all to myself," you uttered. Here you were, planning what to watch and what to eat for the whole night, and this guy managed to foil it.

"I don't share the same sentiment, sweetie. You have the bed every time I'm overseas on a work trip. It's even infested with your colorful pillows," he opened the door to the bedroom and reeled you in, gesturing to your side of the bed which had vibrant pillows and bed 'pets,' as you like to refer to them.

"You really can't sleep without me, can you, Mr. Big guy? Afraid that someone's under the bed or something?"

"I'm more afraid that you're going to ravage my food pantry when you're not in my line of sight."

"The guest bedroom is nowhere near the pantry and I don't ravage it—I simply take a few snacks," you clarified. "Greg would be sad if the food spoils."

"Either way, you sleep in my bedroom or my couch, nowhere else, sweetie."

"Admit it: You like my company, don't you?" You gave him a cheeky grin.

"Yes, yes," Sylus agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You make a good meat shield when we get attacked in this bedroom."

"Oh wow. Reduced to a shield." You rolled your eyes in return and slipped under the covers. "That's Onychinus' leader for you."

"Right. Are you done now? I still have an early schedule for tomorrow."

"Alright, alright. I'm heading to bed now. You can sleep."

"Good. Now come here." Sylus opened his arms and you found yourself huddled right into it like it was the perfect mold. You shifted a bit and could feel his muscles relax against your back.

"Why did you feel the need to sleep in the guest room tonight?" Sylus asked under his breath.

"I was planning on reading comics all night. Tara recommended a new romance comic which I like, but knowing you, you'd probably take my phone away."

"Then it looks like I will be the bad guy tonight."

"Maybe. Until you fall asleep." You shrugged.

You hear the handcuffs being pulled out.

Shit.

Xavier:

3:02 AM, it says on the clock. You weren't on the bed. It was cold and it was proof that you never went on it, which was odd considering you told sleepy little Xavier that you were going to stay over. Poor little tired hunter was exhausted after a day's work and couldn't help but doze off while watching you do your little night ritual of moisturizing and doing a facemask.

Xavier sat on the side of the bed, letting out a big yawn. He didn't know where you were, but all he knew was that he didn't like being alone. From his palm, a faint whirlpool of light emanated, enough to guide him through his dark abode. His first thought was maybe you were watching in the living room. You weren't there. He then headed to the small bedroom right beside his, a spare one for guests, but it went unused when you both shared the same bed now.

He tried his best to quietly open the door. There he saw a little bump on the mattress and it made his heart squeeze; you were adorable and looked so small. Xavier tiptoed and folded the blanket away from you. He took a deep breath and lifted you up bridal style, pressing you against his chest.

"hm?…Xavier?" you slurred, vision dark and blurry.

"I'm moving you to our bedroom," he kissed the top of your head and continued his journey to the other room.

"You were sleeping," you paused, looking for the word. The drowsiness didn't seem to go away. "didn't want to…disturb you."

Xavier wanted to say something, but he and you both arrived at the side of the bed. He gently laid you down and placed a pillow between your limbs, which you automatically hugged. Xavier crawled to his side of the bed and yanked the cover over the both of you. Though you both weren't exactly touching, the little hunter's heart eased at your presence.

Gladly, he went back to sleep, hoping to maybe see you in his dreams.

Zayne:

Zayne's house was far too quiet when he arrived. It was only 7 o'clock, and by then you'd usually be in the kitchen, peeking your head out with a ladle in hand. There was no "welcome back" nor a simple "hello," but what did he expect? You were mad at him.

It's a shallow fight, really. Zayne decided to put you on alcohol time-out and took your hidden beers that you were so ready to drink after a grueling day at work. Zayne's judgment was far better than yours because when you get drunk beyond mental capacity, you tend to make a mess of the house, and you turn into a rage-filled, feisty lady. Moreover, you'd been chain-drinking for the whole week, and Zayne was getting concerned because you kept having hangovers.

His hands twisted on the knob to the little library of his house, where he would always find you on nights like these. There you were, curled in the lazy boy sofa and turned away from him. You were awake, but you didn't want to look at your lover.

"I'm home," Zayne declared.

"Dinner's in the fridge. Heat it up," you responded and closed your eyes. Zayne's footsteps grew closer and closer to you, and you felt his palm land on your shoulder.

"Your back will hurt if you sleep in that position."

The sofa might look soft and admittedly it's pretty comfortable to sit on for a long period of time, but with the curled-up position you have, it was bound to hurt when you fall asleep.

"I'm perfectly fine," you replied.

"Don't be stubborn." Zayne decided to pick you up. You wanted to thrash and get out of his grasp, but then you would look childish.

"I don't want to be with you tonight."

Zayne kept his lips in a thin line. He's more than aware that you're saying that because you're mad, but still—It hurts to hear it from you.

Gently, Zayne settled you in the middle of the bed. "I'll sleep in the living room. Stay here," he whispered and tucked the blanket over your shoulders. It was dark in the bedroom, so you couldn't exactly see him. You rolled over to face away from your lover and patiently waited for him to leave.

1:34 AM. You couldn't sleep. A can of beer would do you some good, but your tongue wasn't craving the bitterness of it. Instead, your mind looped over to a few hours ago when you said something that you didn't mean. It was harsh now that you think about it.

Now Zayne is keeping his distance from you. The owner of the house is sleeping on the couch.

With two pillows and a blanket in hand, you made your way down the flight of mahogany stairs. The living room was in full view, and Zayne was fast asleep on the couch. You nudged the two ottomans to the space between the coffee table and the main sofa. Then you threw the pillows and spread the blanket wide, letting it flutter down while you made yourself fit on the ottoman chairs.

You left a few spaces between you and Zayne, one that was filled by the cold pillow.

2:46 AM. Zayne stirred awake and found a blanket draped over his body. Beside him was his supposedly angry lover, clutching the hem of his shirt. He stared up into the chandelier above and took the pillow that was bordering between them, used it as his own, and pulled you closer, nudging the blanket over both of you even more.

Rafayel:

He's standing by the doorway, tapping his foot while a plushie was tucked under his armpit. He was frowning, and you could even see it through the dark.

"What?" you asked, shining the phone his way.

"So you're going to leave me alone tonight? Is that how you're going to play?" He was mad-mad, but that's why you were confused.

"Hey, drama king—you were complaining earlier in the day about my bad sleeping habits—I'm giving you the bed now so you can be at ease, but now you're mad at me again. Do you want me to sleep on the floor of your bedroom or something?"

"Duh? Of course not. I'm just complaining because it's true, but I never said you should sleep in the guest room."

"Then are you going to be alright with my sleeping habits?"

"No."

"Then sleep alone."

An audible gasp could be seen on the expression of the Lemurian. He looked so offended with the end of the conversation, but you weren't having it, so you plopped back onto the bed and hid under the covers, hoping that he'd go away.

The moment you peeked back out, you were rapidly crushed under heavy weight, making you sink to the bottom of the bed. Rafayel lay spread out on top of you, keeping you in your position and crushing you underneath him.

"Get off me! You're heavy!" You struggled underneath the blanket, nudging him and kicking him, but he pretended to be a dead body floating in the water. Rafayel kept still; if verbal convincing won't work, then he'll have to make you change your mind.

"Fine! Fine! I'll sleep with you!" you screamed. He rolled to the side, propped his elbows up, and rested his head on his palm. You just wanted to rub that triumphant grin off his face. He happily scooted underneath the blankets and hogged your side of the bed, wrapping his hand around you and shutting his eyes.

You didn't want to make a big deal of it further and decided to head to bed as well.

You were stirred awake by a strain in your neck. The lids of your eyes lifted at the electrifying pain that traveled to your head. You squinted, barely able to process the faint blue outside the window. Your body was spread out again, and nearby you could see Rafayel making use of the awkward space he was left with.

Guilt washed over your tired body.

Without much thought left, you held onto two pillows and let your body slip down to the carpeted floor. You hugged the pillow and placed another one under your head, liking the furry texture that brushed the side of your bare arms and legs. You closed your eyes again and let the tiredness wash over you.

It was cold for a summer morning. A large yawn escaped your lips and you patiently waited for your eyes to focus, and when they did, your eyes widened immediately at the beautiful sight of a sleeping Lemurian. Rafayel, too, was now on the floor, using his own arm as a pillow.

You tapped on his shoulder, and he just pulled you down back to the floor. "Five more minutes," he groaned, burying his face in your collar. Luckily, it was a Saturday, and you didn't have to go to work. You could indulge him in the meantime.

Author's footnotes: lol the tiktok was very cute, something that you'd see in a rom-com enemies to lovers sort of romance story. It would be a pretty redundant snippet if every situation is the same for the love interest so I took the liberty of changing things a bit.

Layout by me, using Canva Premium | Do not repost

[cosmopretty]

Sleepyhead

Paige Bueckers x Fem

Synopsis: Moments where you and Paige just felt so comfortable between one another, asleep.

First Moment:

After a long day of working all you wanted to do was sleep, preferably in Paige’s arms. You walk into her dorm sighing, falling right on top of the blonde girl laying down. Her hand falls to your head massaging your scalp “Bad day mama?” she asks you, moving her other hand to your hip rubbing back and forth.

You mumble something into her neck that she couldn’t understand, her hand on your head comes down to your cheek lifting it up “I’m just tired P” you say laying down in her chest your leg bending, laying on her stomach. She nods and starts rubbing up and down your back lulling you to sleep.

Not much later KK comes in the dorm on live, Paige smirks at the live while KK points the camera at you asleep. Paige covers your face with her big hand “Shh KK she’s sleeping” your girlfriend says her eyes widening at her friend, not wanting to wake you.

KK nods “So we’re dueling in Fortnite since the fans wanna know who’s better. Come on get up” she says placing the phone beside her so the live can see you three and the TV.

Paige holds your head to her chest with one hand the other under your legs. She pulls the two of you up and sits down infront of the TV. She positioned you so your straddling her waist, your head on her shoulder tucked in her neck so the live can’t see you asleep. She grabs the remote from KK “You got the upper hand it’s unfair I’m tryna let my girl sleep” Paige says to KK and the live.

“Not my problem this why I stay single now hop on” KK says for once quietly not wanting to wake you either. The two girls play Fortnite together quietly until KK yells throwing the remote on the bed “WHAT? Thats not FAIR THE FU-“ she says before she gets interrupt “Bro shut up” Paige groans.

You move in her arms groaning a bit “What happened?” you ask groggily shifting around in her lap lifting your head from her neck. Paige’s fingers come to move some hair from your face “Nothing baby KK was just leaving” she says her fingers sliding down your face.

KK scoffs smacking her lips “Simp. You see guys Paige is a simp” she tells the live before getting up and leaving the dorm to go find another girl to go live with.

Yawning you rub your eyes smiling at Paige a bit “Was she live?” you ask her looking up at her through your lashes. Paige nods “Yeah don’t worry they didn’t see your face I know you wouldn’t want you drooling on me all over the internet” she jokes sticking her tongue out at you.

“Oh shut up I don’t drool that’s all you” You say laughing a bit running your fingers through her pretty blonde hair. Your hands cup her cheeks squishing them together before letting them go. Her hand holds the back of your head before pulling you closer to her, she pecks your lips multiple times before kissing you sweetly.

Second moment:

Dating a division one basketball player, meant dating a person who worked out their body way too much. Paige worked her ass off durning practice, in the gym anything really always leaving her tired. Which means you take care of her of her a lot, you didn’t mind but even when you were taking care of her she was still always in control.

That’s what lead you here walking to Paige’s dorm at ten am, right after you woke up. You open the door smiling at Nika and KK before going to Paige’s dorm walking in. You see laying on her stomach her head shoved her pillow “You okay Paigey?” you ask her half joking.

She grumbles something before pushing herself up on her elbows “I’m sore from practice can you give me a massage ma?” she asks you pouting her bottom lip out. Walking over to her you sit on top of her straddling her back. Your hands work there way to her shoulders, massaging the muscles there.

“You’re so tense Paige’s relax” You demand the girl massing down her arms. She moans into the pillow eyes fluttering shut. Your hands move softly on her soft skin moving down her back.

You sit on top of the girl for around an hour before your hands starts to ache “Paige I think I’m done” you say aloud not getting an answer. Looking down at her you brush her blonde hair from her face to see she fell asleep. Smiling you move to get up and she groans “No stay there it feels good” she whines not opening her eyes.

You lay down next to her throwing your leg over her back so you’re still laying on top of her. She sighs in content when your hands come to her back pressing against her skin lightly, massaging her again as she falls back asleep.

Third Moment

Waking up in the morning with a six foot tall girlfriend built of muscle was not something easy to do. If she didn’t want to get up, you couldn’t she knew the power she had over you and used it. Morning were not easy on Paige she did not want to wake up early, or leave bed, or be alone which meant she forced you to say with her.

You yawn shutting off your alarm clock on your phone and groan rubbing your face. Paige sighs and pulls you closer to her from behind, you lay flush against her “Mmm come on we gotta get up” you whispers your eyes begging to close.

Paige puts her head in your neck shaking her head no “Ten more minutes” she demands not nothing to hear your answer before slugging her leg on top of your waist, spooning you.

“No Paige you have practice come on” You turn around in her arms giving her the chance to trap you. Her arm wraps around your shoulder and her leg stays wrapped around you “Your stuck here now we get up when I want to” she says into your neck.

Letting out a sigh your hug her back playing with her pretty blonde hair with your fingers “Come on Paige Geno’s gonna yell at you again” you remind her.

Paige shrugs “I don’t care, wanna sleep with you ma” she grumbles kissing your neck softly. Giving up you go limp in her arms hugging her back, the two of you slowly fall back asleep together.

Send some requests because I need inspiration

[meliciousmel13]

➛ the mess is mine.

paring: Billie Eilish x Reader

warnings: smut, fluff, aftercare, dirty names? (billie calls r whore, slut) strap-on sex (r receiving), eating out, fingering, kind of breeding kink, possessive billie

wc: 5,121

SYNOPSIS: billie wakes up at 7am for her photoshoot and you offer to go with her. you were waiting for her to finish and finally go home to cuddle. but.. was that someone flirting with you?

an: was this too much? sorryy

It was 7:31 a.m. Billie was late by a whole 30 minutes. Why? Because of you. She was supposed to be at a photoshoot by now, but every time she tried to sneak out of bed, you’d cling to her as your life depended on it.

Her first attempt to replace her body with a pillow had failed spectacularly. The moment the cool fabric touched your skin instead of her warmth, you whined and mumbled something incoherent about her staying. Each time she tried to move, you tightened your hold, murmuring, “Just five more minutes.”

It’s been 30. Billie was still here, half sitting up and half trapped beneath you, her phone buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand.

“Baby,” she sighed, rubbing slow circles on your back in a last-ditch effort to reason with you, “I really need to go.”

“Why?” you mumbled, your voice muffled against her neck.

“Because I’m late for my photo shoot, angel,” she explained, her voice soft as she kissed the side of your neck. Her hands slid under your pajama shirt, gently rubbing your hips in a way that was meant to coax, but it only made you cling tighter.

“Why are you always leaving me?” you asked, your tone carrying more hurt than you meant to let show. Your arms locked around her like a lifeline, your cheek pressed against the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat.

She froze for a moment, guilt flickering across her face before she softened. “I’m not leaving you, sweetheart,” she murmured, running her fingers through your hair. “I’m just working.”

“You’re always working,” you replied, your voice laced with sleepy frustration.

She groaned, and couldn’t talk back because you were annoyingly right. Unfortunately, she was always working. Sometimes she stays late in your home studio. Sometimes have to remind her it’s 3 am and she needs to go to bed. You have to remind her to sleep. which made sense because she had a horrible sleep schedule.

“I know,” she admitted, pressing another kiss to your temple. “But I’ve got a two-day break after today. I promise I’m all yours.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep as you tilted your head to look at her.

“Yeah,” she said, turning onto her back and pulling you with her so you were sprawled across her chest. “Just let me get through today, and I’m yours, baby. Completely.”

Her hands slid to your thighs, holding them gently as she gave you a pleading look. “Please?”

You sat up slightly, perched on her lap as you eyed her skeptically. “Only if I can come with you.”

Billie blinked, caught off guard. “Sure?” she said, her voice cautious but amused.

You nodded, shifting to straddle her properly, your hands resting on her chest. “I’m serious.”

Her hands slid up your thighs, slightly gripping your upper thighs. Tilting her head, and smirking, almost like she knew what she was doing to you “You sure, baby? It’s going to be boring for you.”

“Maybe not if you keep talking like that,” you mumbled, mimicking her head tilt. She laughed, the sound warm and low, gently nudging you off her. “Alright, alright. But now we really need to go.”

She stretched, her arms reaching above her head as she let out a groan. Then she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurried to pull on socks, nearly tripping in her rush.

You watched her with half-lidded eyes, still sprawled on the bed. She was barely awake, fumbling with her shirt and brushing her fingers through her hair in an attempt to look presentable. “You know,” you said, your voice teasing, “you’re just going to take that off when you get there.”

She paused to give you a playful glare. “And you’re not helping.”

“I’m keeping you warm,” you retorted, burrowing deeper into the blanket.

“You’re keeping me late,” she corrected, tossing a hoodie over her head before grabbing her phone.

Finally, Billie turned to you, her expression softening as she took in your sleepy pout. “Come on,” she coaxed, holding out a hand. “You said you wanted to come with me, remember?”

Grumbling, you crawled out of the warm cocoon of blankets and took her hand. Billie pulled you to your feet, her arms immediately wrapping around your waist to steady you as you swayed slightly.

“See? Now we’re both late,” she teased, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before tugging you toward the door.

“Whatever,” you replied, leaning into her side as she guided you out of the room.

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting on the edge of a plush couch in the corner of the photo studio, the quiet hum of activity around you. Billie had been whisked away the moment you two walked in, the staff bustling to get everything ready. The sound of camera shutters clicking, mixed with the low murmur of voices, created a backdrop of controlled chaos.

You couldn’t take your eyes off her from across the room. She moved so naturally, so confidently, like she belonged right there in the spotlight. Every pose felt effortless like she wasn’t even trying—just being. The stylist fussed over her outfit again, straightening seams and adjusting details, but Billie barely seemed to notice, too busy flashing the camera that playful, crooked smirk that somehow felt like it was meant just for you.

“She’s stunning,” someone from the crew muttered from nearby, and you couldn’t help but smile, proud to know her so intimately.

Even though she was surrounded by people, Billie’s eyes kept flickering over to you, catching your gaze and holding it for just a moment before she went back to her pose. Each time, there was a hint of a smile, as if reassuring you that despite the work, you were still on her mind.

As the photographer called for a break, Billie wandered over to you, her steps light but purposeful. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before sitting beside you, her body close to yours.

“How’s my angel doing?” she asked, her voice playful, but with an undercurrent of affection that made you melt.

You shrugged, grinning. “I’m surviving. It’s kind of boring without you though.”

She laughed softly, brushing a lock of hair out of your face. “I’m almost done, promise. Then it’s just you and me. No more work today.”

You leaned into her, pressing your cheek to her shoulder as you relaxed into the moment, letting the busyness of the shoot fade into the background. Billie’s hand found yours, her thumb gently stroking your skin, grounding you in the peace of this quiet space despite the chaos of the studio.

“Thanks for sticking with me,” she murmured softly, her lips brushing the top of your head. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied with a smile.

Billie was barely out of the room when the guy approached, the sound of his shoes tapping on the floor as he made his way over to you. He flashed you a charming grin that made your skin crawl, leaning in way too close.

“Hey,” he said, his tone too smooth for comfort. “You’re looking a little lonely over here. Why don’t you come hang out with me instead of waiting around?”

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling away from him a little, but he didn’t take the hint. His eyes skimmed over you, lingering in all the wrong places. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you look all… out of it. I think I’d like to get to know you better.”

Before you could even respond, a cold, sharp voice sliced through the air, making the guy freeze mid-sentence.

“Get away from her. Now.”

Billie’s voice was so cold and hard it could’ve cut glass. She stormed toward you, her jaw clenched and her eyes practically burning holes through the guy. Without a moment’s hesitation, she stepped between you, her presence so commanding that the guy instinctively took a step back.

“Billie, come on, I’m just—” The guy started to laugh, clearly not understanding the shift in the air.

Billie’s eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a cruel smile that was anything but friendly. “I said back off,” she snapped, her voice low and full of venom. “You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even breathe in her direction. Got it?”

The guy hesitated, clearly trying to size up the situation, but he wasn’t fast enough. Billie took a step forward, towering over him, her body language radiating pure menace. “She’s mine. You think you can just come up and flirt with what’s mine, huh? No. Not happening.”

He started to laugh again, trying to brush it off, but Billie didn’t care. “What’s so funny, huh?” she hissed, stepping even closer. “You think this is some joke? You think she’s some kind of toy for you to play with?”

The guy opened his mouth to say something, but Billie didn’t let him get a word out. “Shut up,” she spat, the words cutting him off like a whip. “She doesn’t want you. She’s not interested. I don’t want you near her. Do you understand?”

The guy looked taken aback, the smug expression slipping from his face as he realized Billie wasn’t backing down. He stepped back, trying to regain his composure, but Billie wasn’t finished.

She leaned in closer, her voice dangerously quiet now, but the fury in it was unmistakable. “Right?” Billie said, her eyes flashing darkly. “The mess is mine. All of her—every inch—is mine. And you’ll stay the hell away from her. Understood?”

The guy looked at Billie, his face turning a little pale as he mumbled something, his bravado completely deflated. He took one last glance at you before backing off without another word, clearly realizing he’d just made a very big mistake.

Billie stood there, watching him retreat with a satisfied, icy glare, her chest heaving slightly from the intensity of her anger. When she was sure he was gone, she turned to you, her expression softening just enough to show a hint of concern, but the possessive dominance never left her eyes.

“You okay?” she asked, her tone no longer sharp, but still filled with an unrelenting sense of control.

You nodded, not trusting your voice as you watched her, completely captivated by how fiercely she protected you.

“Good,” she murmured, her hand sliding around your waist as she pulled you into her side, her grip tight, almost like she was afraid someone else might try to get too close. “No one messes with what’s mine. Not while I’m around.”

You couldn’t help but shiver at the possessiveness in her voice, feeling a warmth spread through you as you leaned into her, your eyes meeting hers.

Billie pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering for just a moment longer than usual. “You belong to me, sweetheart. Remember that.”

Her words were like a brand on your soul, leaving no room for doubt. You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips as you whispered, “I remember, Billie. I remember.”

The car ride back home was suffocating in its silence, thick with tension. Billie’s eyes flicked to you every few moments, the corner of her lips curling into a slight, unreadable smile. You could feel the weight of her gaze on you, every passing second drawing you deeper into the pull of her presence.

As soon as the car stopped, Billie was out, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t wait for you, didn’t bother checking if you were right behind her—she knew you were.

The second you closed the car door, she was on you, her hands pulling you toward the front door of the house, fingers digging into your wrist. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Billie’s mouth was on yours, hot and demanding. Her hands pulled at your clothes roughly, almost like she couldn’t stand to have even a second where you weren’t completely hers.

She backed you up against the nearest wall, her lips tracing along your jaw with sharp, possessive kisses. “Bet you like this, huh?” Billie murmured, her lips brushing against your ear, her breath warm and heavy. “Bet you like when I make you mine, when I remind you who you belong to.” Her voice was low, gritty with lust, and there was no mistaking the authority in it. Every word felt like a brand, a reminder that you were hers.

You gasped, your body responding to her instantly, heat pooling in your stomach. You tried to push her off, just a little, needing a second to breathe, but she wasn’t having it. “No, no, no. You don’t get to push me away.” Her fingers tightened in your hair, forcing your head back to give her more access to your neck.

“You don’t get to stop me, baby. Not when I’m finally gonna remind you just how much you belong to me.” Her teeth scraped against your skin, sharp and possessive, making you shudder under her touch.

You let out a soft moan, the ache inside you becoming unbearable. “Fuck, you’re such a slut,” Billie growled, her hand sliding down your body roughly, squeezing your waist, her thumb brushing dangerously close to the waistband of your pants. “A slut for me, huh?” She smirked, her eyes dark with the kind of intensity that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe without her permission.

You shuddered, but there was no denying it—the heat that rushed through you at the sound of her words. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “Yours.” She froze, her eyes darkening even further as she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, mocking kiss.

“Say it again, baby,” she commanded, her voice dripping with possessive need. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“m’ yours,” you breathed, your chest tightening with both the weight of her words and your own growing desire. Billie’s smirk deepened, satisfied with your response, but she wasn’t done with you yet.

Her hand slid down between your legs, her fingers pressing against the outline of your pants, brushing lightly against your core. “You really think you can walk around looking this fucking cute without me wanting to fuck you stupid?” Billie growled, her other hand sliding up her hoodie, her fingers pinching at your nipples in a way that made you gasp.

“You’re nothing but a little slut for me, and I’m gonna fuck you like one.” Her words hit you like a physical blow, and your whole body flushed with the weight of her command. You could feel yourself tightening under her touch, desperate for her, for her possession, for the way she made you feel like nothing outside of her mattered.

Billie stepped back, just for a moment, her eyes scanning you with dark amusement. “You’ve been teasing me all day, and now, you’re gonna pay for it,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. “Come here.” She grabbed your wrist again, pulling you toward the living room, her movements sharp and quick. You couldn’t stop yourself, not when she had you so worked up, so under her thumb.

When she threw you down on the couch, her gaze didn’t soften—it only grew darker. She stood over you for a moment, surveying you like a predator, her hands resting on her hips as she smirked down at you. “You’re mine. Don’t forget it.” Before you could say anything, she was on you again, this time less gentle, her hands finding the waistband of your pants with expert speed, yanking them down roughly, exposing your skin and pretty pink underwear to her hungry gaze.

She didn’t ask for permission, and didn’t need to. Billie’s hands roamed over your body, her grip firm and possessive, and she took a deep breath as if inhaling the very essence of you.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect for me,” she muttered, her lips finding your neck once more. Her teeth sank into your skin, marking you, claiming you. “No one else gets to touch you. No one but me, you understand?” You nodded, your breath quickening as her words sank in deeper, the way she was touching you making everything else fade away.

All that mattered now was Billie. Her touch, the way she made you feel like you were hers, and hers alone. “Good,” she whispered against your skin, her hands roaming even more boldly, pushing her hoodie past your chest and making it pool around your collarbones.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” she bit her lip, pinching and rolling your nipple with her thumb and index finger, “hm? You know how fucking pretty and cute you are don’t you? That’s why you were teasin’ me. You fuckin’ know.” she breathed out, leaning down and taking your nipple to her mouth, she looked up with lazy eyes, her pink tongue swirling and sucking your nipple.

“Bill— billie,” you whimper holding the back of her head and softly gripping her hair. Your back arching to press your breast further into her eager mouth.

“Yeah? Can’t even handle something so simple, fuck,” she sighed, looking down and seeing the large, obvious wet spot in your underwear. “Got so wet and I didn’t even do anything yet.” She smiled, rubbing softly with her thumb and pushing the damp fabric to the side, exposing your glistening cunt to her hungry eyes.

“Look at you, all ready for me,” Billie purred, her fingers teasing along your slit. “So eager, so desperate to be touched.”

She pushed a finger inside you, curling it just so, and you cried out, your hips bucking against her hand. “That’s it, baby. Give me those sweet sounds. Let me hear how much you want it.”

Billie added another finger, pumping them in and out, her thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Fuck, you’re tight. I can’t wait to feel this cunt squeezing my dick.”

She picked up the pace, her fingers driving into you harder, faster, the wet squelch of your arousal filling the room. “You like that, hm baby? Like feeling me inside you, stretching you open?”

You could only moan in response, your body tensing as the pressure built inside you. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the brink, Billie withdrew her fingers, leaving you empty and aching.

“Not yet,” she tutted, a wicked grin on her face. “I’m not done playing with you. Need to hear you beg for it first.”

She dipped her head down, her tongue swiping over your clit, and you nearly screamed at the sudden sensation. “Please,” you gasped, fisting your hands in her hair. “Please, Billie, I need…”

“Need what?” she asked, her breath hot against your sensitive flesh. “Tell me what you need, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

Billie’s fingers teased along your slit once more, barely dipping inside, just enough to drive you wild with need. “Tell me what you need,” she demanded, her voice low and commanding. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I need you,” you whimpered, arching your back, trying to press yourself further into her touch. “I need your fingers, your tongue, anything. Please, Billie, m’ so close.”

She chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “So desperate. So needy for my touch.” Her fingers circled your clit, firm and relentless, pushing you closer to the edge. “Beg for it, baby. Beg for my fingers in your tight little cunt.”

“Please,” you moaned, your hips bucking against her hand. “Please, Billie, I need your fingers inside me. I need you to make me come. Please, please—I’ll do anything.”

“That’s more like it,” she purred, sliding two fingers back inside you, pumping them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. “Such a good little slut, begging so prettily for me.”

She curled her fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your vision go white, and you cried out, your walls clenching around her digits. “Fuck, Billie! M’ gonna cum— can’t—”

She didn’t stop, her fingers driving into you harder, faster, the wet squelch of your arousal filling the room. “Come for me,” she commanded, her thumb pressing down on your clit. “Come on my fingers like the desperate little whore you are.”

And you did, your body convulsing as the orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of pleasure radiating through your core. You clenched around her fingers, your juices coating her hand as she worked you through it, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed, her fingers still moving inside you, prolonging your climax. “Milk my fingers. Show me how much you needed that.”

You could only moan in response, your body trembling with the intensity of your orgasm. Billie’s fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your pleasure until you thought you couldn’t take anymore.

Finally, she withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her mouth and licking them clean. “Mmm, you taste so fucking good when you come,” she purred, her eyes dark with lust. “I could eat this pretty cunt all day.”

She moved down your body, settling between your legs, and you whimpered at the feeling of her hot breath on your sensitive flesh. “One more,” she promised, her tongue darting out to lap at your clit. “wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

She set to work, her mouth and fingers alternating between teasing and pleasuring, pushing you towards another climax. Your hands fisted in the sheets, your body arching off the bed as she drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Billie, please,” you begged, your voice hoarse from crying out her name. “I need to come. Please— make me come.”

She hummed against your skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. “Come for me, baby. Let go. I’ve got you.”

And with a final flick of her tongue, you did, your back bowing off the bed as the second orgasm ripped through you. Billie moaned, lapping up your release, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back onto the mattress, spent and sated.

She crawled up your body, pressing soft kisses along your neck and jaw. “Such a good girl,” she praised, her fingers carding through your hair. “so proud of you angel.”

You could only nod, too exhausted to form any coherent words. Billie chuckled, pressing one last kiss to your lips before climbing off the couch.

Billie smirked as she climbed off the couch, her fingers still glistening with your juices. “Wait here,” she mumbled.

She sauntered out of the living room, leaving you panting and aching for more. Your mind raced with possibilities of what she might return with - toys, restraints, who knows what else.

Minutes later, Billie reappeared, a mischievous glint in her eye. In her hand, she held a large, strap-on.

“On your hands and knees,” she commanded, her voice low and authoritative.

You scrambled to obey, assuming the position on the couch. Your heart raced with anticipation as you felt Billie’s presence behind you.

“Such a good little whore,” she purred, running the strap-on teasingly along your slit. “So eager to be filled, aren’t you?”

You whimpered and pushed back against the toy, desperate to feel it inside you. Billie chuckled darkly.

“Patience, I’m going to fuck this tight pussy so hard you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

With that promise, she pressed forward, and positioned herself at your entrance, the thick head of the strap-on nudging insistently against your sensitive folds. With a single, powerful thrust, she sheathed herself fully inside you, your slick walls parting to accommodate her girth.

“Fuck yes,” Billie groaned, her hips grinding against yours as she hilted deep. “Love feeling this tight cunt swallowing my cock. Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

She set a punishing pace, her thrusts hard and deep, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingling with your wanton moans and Billie’s grunts of exertion.

“Take it,” she commanded, her fingers digging into the meat of your thighs hard enough to bruise. “Take my fucking cock like the desperate whore you are. Milk it with this greedy little cunt.”

Your body was a livewire of sensation, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. You could feel your orgasm building, a tidal wave of ecstasy poised to crash over you at any moment.

“Billie,” you keened, your hands scrabbling at her sweat-slicked back. “Please, I’m so close. Make me come on your cock. Fill me up, please!”

“That’s it, baby,” she growled, her hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Come for me. Come all over my fucking dick.”

And with a few more well-angled thrusts, you did, your cunt clamping down on the strap as wave after wave of pleasure radiated through your core.

Billie carefully pulls out, her movements slow and gentle as she helps you settle back, her hands soothingly stroking your body. She leans down, her breath soft against your skin, whispering, “You did so good for me, baby.”

You’re still a little dazed, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at her, feeling the warmth of her touch and the aftershocks of everything slowly settling in your chest. Billie’s gaze softens as she notices the way you’re still processing, her hand resting lightly on your hip, a grounding presence.

“Just breathe, okay?” she murmurs, her voice low and comforting. Her fingers trace the curve of your jaw, pushing the strands of hair from your face, and she smiles softly as she sees how you melt into her touch.

She leans in, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment. “I’ve got you, always. You’re safe with me.”

You nod, finally feeling the tension in your body ease as she holds you, her warmth enveloping you. Billie’s body is close, and she doesn’t let go of you, making sure you feel cared for and cherished. You rest your head against her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat, and feel the weight of her embrace ground you as the world slowly comes back into focus.

Billie smiles softly, her fingers gently brushing over your skin, lingering on the back of your neck. She takes a moment to study you, her eyes filled with affection as she notices the exhaustion settling in your features.

“How about a bath?” she asks, her voice tender like she’s offering you a moment of calm after everything. “I can run one for you, make sure you’re all clean and relaxed.”

You hum softly, the idea of sinking into warm water feels like the perfect way to unwind. Her hand moves to your waist, guiding you gently to sit up, and she stands beside you, already reaching for the blankets to pull them back.

“I’ll take care of you,” Billie promises, her gaze never leaving yours. She leans in and presses another kiss to your forehead, a reassurance of her care. “You deserve to feel good, baby.”

She helps you to your feet, her touch light yet steady, making sure you don’t feel rushed as she leads you toward the bathroom. The soft glow of the dim lights in the room and the sound of water running sets the mood—peaceful, quiet.

You sink deeper into the warmth of the bath, your body still humming from everything that just happened. You take a deep breath, your eyes closing for a moment as you let the heat wash over you.

“That was a lot,” you admit, your voice soft, still coming down from the intensity.

Billie, standing beside the tub, looks down at you with a small smile, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She crouches down, brushing her hand over your hair, fingers tangling through the wet strands. “I know, baby,” she says, her voice tender, as if she understands exactly what you mean. “But you did so good.”

Without saying much more, Billie undresses quickly, and before you can blink, she’s stepping into the tub behind you. The water splashes around her as she settles in, almost instantly pulling you into her arms. Her presence is solid, grounding you in a calm way after everything.

She guides you to lean back against her chest, your head resting against her shoulder as she envelops you in her warmth. Her hands start running through your hair again, gentle and soothing. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs, her voice soft and calming. “We can just relax here for a while, okay? No rush.”

You let out a breath, the weight of everything finally beginning to melt away. Billie’s arms are around you, keeping you close, and her touch is reassuring and soft. She kisses the top of your head, her lips lingering there for a moment before she whispers, “Let go, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Billie’s hands slide down your arms, her touch still gentle as she pulls you closer, her body pressed firmly against yours in the warm water. She stays silent for a moment, her breath steady, as if thinking over everything that happened.

After a beat, her voice breaks the quiet, soft but tinged with concern. “Was I too rough with you?” she asks, her tone unexpectedly vulnerable. “Too mean?”

You look up at her, meeting her eyes as she watches you carefully, her fingers now tracing delicate patterns on your skin. Her usual confidence is there, but there’s an underlying softness, a need for reassurance that surprises you.

“I just want to make sure I didn’t push you too far,” she adds, her voice almost hesitant, as if she’s testing the waters for your response.

You let out a small sigh, the warmth of the bath soothing you further, and shake your head. “No… it wasn’t like that,” you whisper, reaching up to touch her face, your fingertips grazing her cheek. “You were just… exactly what I needed.”

Billie’s eyes soften, the tension in her shoulders easing as she absorbs your words. She pulls you closer once more, her embrace wrapping around you like a cocoon, protective and caring.

“I just want to take care of you,” she murmurs, her voice low and sincere. “I’m here, always.”

taglist: @chrissv4mp, @billiesguitar, @ilovebillieeilish2000, @d14n4ol, @raspberrymacaroon, @eilishslut if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my tag list post, which is on my masterlist.

b.e masterlist | m.b masterlist | taglist

[redzie02]

San comes home from tour in the middle of the night

needed the comfort so here’s a short San fic

warnings: none ?/ maybe slightly suggestive at the end/ comfort/ dialogue starts under the cut lol masterlist

You'd been thrashing around for hours, trying to find comfort, but no luck. The bed was uncomfortable. Your pillow was too warm. Even your comforter annoyed you.

Peaceful sleep was not something you were well acquainted with the last few months, especially considering the absence of your favorite person. San.

You knew what you signed up for when you and San started dating, but it didn't make times like these any less difficult. Daily phone calls and texts only did so much to ease the longing.

Frustrated and miserable, you sat up and dramatically snatched your pillow and smacked it onto the opposite end of the bed. With a huff, you laid down and exhaled deeply, satisfied with the new sleeping arrangement. It was somehow exponentially more comfortable, but something was missing.

You couldn't be bothered to sit up again, so you slid your foot under San's pillow and gently tossed it to the other end of the bed. You held it tightly to your body, inhaling the subtle mixture of San's shampoo and fresh body odor before tucking it under your chin- the same way he holds you.

The remnants of San's faint aroma hit you straight in the gut. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your throat starting to tighten.

Just one more week and he'll be home. Don't cry. You repeated these words to yourself while blindly patting down the bed in search for your phone. You squinted at your screen before sending a text.

3:58 am my y/n♡: i miss you :(

You tossed your phone to the side, not expecting an answer. You'd sent San over a dozen texts yesterday, but he only responded back by hearting a few of the messages. A bit infuriating, but you understood he was most likely just busy.

-

You awoke with a startle when you felt something lightly dragging up and down your arm. The lamp in the furthest corner of the bedroom was on, casting a soft yellow glow, but still bright enough to leave you squinting at the figure before you.

You almost whimper when you realize San was standing just a few inches away from you. You practically leapt up, throwing your arms around San's neck, almost causing him to stumble. You couldn't help the whine in your voice as you spoke, your voice groggy from the fatigue. “I thought tour ended next week.”

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, constricting your breathing a bit, but you didn't care. “I got the dates mixed up, that’s my fault, baby, I'm sorry. I texted you when I was on my way thirty minutes ago, didn’t you see it? I sent it right after I saw your text.”

“I don’t even know where I threw that thing, if we’re being honest." He chuckled into your neck. "Ugh, I don’t care. You’re finally home.”

You pulled him backwards until he was laying on top of you on the bed. He lifted his head from your shoulder, his smiley eyes taking in every millimeter of your face as you did the exact same. He freed his right arm from under you and smoothed your hair out of your face. His breath tickled your cheek as he quietly spoke, “It was four in the morning when you texted me…Why were you up, hmm?”

You wrapped your legs around San’s waist, your whole body clinging to him. Your hands slipped under his shirt, your fingers caressing his warm, soft skin. “I haven’t been able to sleep without you.”

He raised his eyebrow, but his body relaxed even further in your embrace. “You never mentioned this.”

“The last thing I want is for you to worry about me when you’re about to perform for thousands of people.” You sighed.

He hummed in understanding, but rebutted, leaning down to place kisses on your cheek. “I want to worry about you. You’re the most important person in my life.”

“I’m telling your mom that.”

“Please don’t.” He pouted and took a moment to run his index finger across your eyebrows and down your nose. “I haven’t been able to sleep either.”

You pinched San's waist, drawing out a small yelp from him. “San! You promised you were taking care of yourself.”

“I was, I swear…but it really started to hit me a month into the tour. It was so hard not seeing your clothes all over the floor.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh? You make me sound like a slob…”

“What I mean is…the only reminder of you that I had with me was the pendant you gave me and your pictures in my phone. Nothing felt like home.”

“Oh. I almost wish that was all I had of you. Everything in this apartment and this city reminded me of you. It only made me miss you more.” His thumb stroked your cheek. "I know it's your job, but I hate when you leave."

“Me too, baby." San's eyes softened when they met your glossy ones, a small pang in his heart. He couldn't help himself as he brought his lips to yours, inhaling your sigh. What started off as soft kisses, grew more eager, months of deprivation just barely being chipped away.

San let out a noise between a whine and a groan as he pulled away. "I missed this,” he cups your face before dragging his thumb from your cheek to your now wet bottom lip. “And this.” He kisses the tip of your nose and continues to leave a perfect path of pecks down the side of your face. “This.” He places a kiss on your earlobe before taking it between his teeth, gently nipping. “You,” he whispers in your ear. “Us.” His lips leave a trail of kisses down your neck. The breath of his sigh tickles your skin, sending chills up and down your body.

You push San’s hair out his face, running your fingers through his silky, dark locks. You close your eyes, feeling your body relax just a bit too much. As badly as you wanted to keep going, exhaustion was beginning to eat away at you. “Sannie.”

“Hmm?”

“We should sleep.”

“Continue later?”

“Yes, please.”

a/n: San took a shower before falling asleep btw he is not stinky.,,,all my fics are lowkey the same lol

[fastandcarlos]

"I Can't Sleep Without You" : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: after watching you walk out after an argument, daniel finds himself unable to settle knowing that you're not there with him

Your eyes found themselves fixated on the ceiling once again, unable to push your argument with Daniel away from the forefront of your mind. It replayed again and again, the things you said, the feelings that surfaced, the hurt that Daniel had caused. 

Soon enough you found yourself walking out of the apartment, deciding to spend the night at a friend’s house. You thought it would be the perfect thing to do to forget about it, but you couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

Just like you, Daniel laid wide awake, struggling to believe what had happened. The bed felt empty without you, all he wanted was for you to be back there with him again. He couldn’t remember the last night he spent without you, although he knew the reason for it was all down to him. 

Arguments were rare between the two of you which was why you were both so overwhelmed. You’d shouted at Daniel louder than you ever had done before, likewise he’d said things you never thought you’d hear come from him leaving you both clashing. 

On his chest, Daniel’s phone kept lighting up. Each time he looked in anticipation that it might be a notification from you, only to be left disappointed each time he checked. 

No matter how many times he closed his eyes, Daniel soon found them open again as he thought about your argument and the things that he regretted. He knew now the things that he should have said, angry at himself for not saying those things rather than what he ended up saying to you. 

He knew the blame landed on him, but that didn’t stop Daniel feeling sorry for himself laying in the cold bed all by himself. The feeling of being without you was horrendous, hoping that you were struggling just as much as he was not being by his side. 

As another hour passed, Daniel picked up his phone again, scrolling through his list of contacts. His finger hovered over your name for a moment, silently debating with himself whether calling you was the best thing to do or not. 

Your eyes grew heavy once more when suddenly you were disturbed by the vibrations that came from underneath your pillow, reaching your hand under and pulling out your phone. 

When you saw Daniel’s name, your immediate response was to answer, that was until you remembered what had happened. You toyed with the idea for a moment, deciding to accept Daniel’s call on the last ring, gently pressing your phone to your ear, greeted by the sound of Daniel heavy breathing. 

“Dan,” you sighed, “what are you calling for at this time?” 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late,” he replied, stunning you with how his voice wavered with upset. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I’ve been such an idiot love, and now I’m lying here, unable to sleep without you here.” 

As he fell silent, you could hear Daniel sniffing as he tried to fight back the tears. You couldn’t begin to imagine how hard he was being on himself, unable to remember the last time that you heard Daniel upset, let alone crying and wiping away his tears.  

“It’s probably really selfish of me to ask, but is there any way that you could come home? I can’t sleep without you, and judging by the fact you answered my call, I'm guessing that you’re the same.” 

A sigh came from you as you thought for a moment, as much as you loved your friend’s home, it wasn’t the same as being in your own home and in the comfort of your own bed. 

“I’ll be there shortly.” 

Daniel muttered a thank you before leaving you to start heading home. You grabbed a couple of your things, writing a note for your friend before heading to your car. You were careful as you drove, keeping yourself composed as you dreaded to think how things would go when you got home.  

There was a light on as soon as you pulled up outside your home, locking your car and heading to the front door. You barely opened the door before Daniel greeted you, his face red and blotchy from where he had been crying. 

“Hi,” you murmured. 

A lump ran down your throat as your eyes met Daniel’s, walking into the apartment and taking a seat on the sofa. The place was a mess from how Daniel had left it, with him sitting on the seat beside you, but keeping a bit of distance between you both.  

His hands brushed through his hair as he tried his best to stay composed beside you. “I’m glad you decided to come back,” he whispered, “thank you.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You were blunter than Daniel had hoped, although it was the least that he deserved for how he had treated you, it still hurt him. 

“Love,” he slowly whispered, “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. I should never have said what I said, I was selfish, stubborn, inconsiderate, just an awful boyfriend. “ 

“You were an ass,” you agreed with a faint chuckle, glancing across at Daniel. “I shouldn’t have pestered you so much though, you obviously needed space and I didn’t give that to you, I probably just wound you up more.” 

Despite Daniel insisting that he was fine, you refused to believe him. You nagged and nagged, reminding him that he could open up to you. Daniel’s frustrations only grew though as he told you that he was fine, deciding to deal with things all by himself. 

“I wish things went differently tonight, Daniel,” you admitted, “this is our home, it’s where we should be spending every single night together.” 

“I agree, no matter how angry we are at each other.” 

Despite the early hours, the time apart was exactly what you needed. Both of you had some time to reflect, reminding yourselves just how much the two of you hated arguing with one another. 

Daniel’s hand slowly reached across and rested against your leg, shuffling along the seat so that the two of you were sat next to each other again. His smile turned up as your head rested down against his shoulder. 

“Can we go back to just being us? To cuddling in bed and falling asleep side by side.” 

You hummed in reply to Daniel, feeling his arms wrap around your frame as he lifted you up off of the sofa, resting you against his chest to keep you still. 

He didn’t let you go as Daniel dropped down onto the bed, resting you into his side as he pulled the duvet over you both. It felt like home again, smiling at how warm it was again with you right there with him.  

“This is much better,” Daniel murmured as he rested his head on yours, allowing his eyes to close once again. 

Your smile grew as he spoke. “Don’t ever let me complain about uncomfortable our bed is again, she had me sleeping on the sofa and I think if I’d have spent the night there, I’d have ended up with a broken back.” 

A chuckle came from Daniel, “that’s because nowhere can compare to our bed, no one makes you feel as comfortable as I do anyway.” 

“That’s true, you’re the best.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[keikikait]

ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part three. for part two, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 6.7k. i got carried away. i locked in all day to write this.

summary: a trip to get your new phone results in something new…until rafe finds out

warnings: SMUT WARNING 18+! HEAVY cunnilingus (pretty much all pussy eating), slight nipple play (f receiving), rafe is a munch argue with the wall, slight dom!reader (never written it before so soz if it’s awkward), leg humping, cumming in pants, some angst at the beginning/middle, smut at the end, jealous!rafe, some jj x reader, i haven't finished s4 so if i get shit wrong i'm sorry, not proofread

a note: i am so locked in on this series. that being said, this is most likely the final part. but don't worry, i have another rafe idea in mind!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You only get a few hours of sleep before Rafe is stomping around your room, getting dressed to leave you yet again.

The sunlight pours in through your now open window, your curtains flowing softly in the wind. Your bed is so warm and soft that you don’t even want to get up, your duvet smelling faintly of Rafe’s cologne. You sit up, rubbing your eyes. “Rafe?”

He turns to look at you, his blue eyes softening when he looks at your sleepy face. He slips his arms through the holes of his shirt before pulling it over his head, smirking. “Yeah? You okay?”

“Where are you going?” You ask, yawning.

“I gotta go.” He says, straightening his shirt out. “I was supposed to meet with Sofia for breakfast today. Some new breakfast bistro opened up downtown.” Rafe sits down on the edge of your mattress, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “I’ll be back tonight, alright?”

You whine, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “No.”

Rafe sighs, grabbing your hand and gently pulling away your grip. “Sweetheart, don't do that.” He says, his voice stern. “I told you, I'm supposed to be with her for breakfast.”

“No!” You tug him onto the bed. “You love me, not her. You said so yourself.”

He falls onto the bed, cursing under his breath as he looks at you. He sighs, reaching out and taking your chin in his hand. “Don't do this, pretty girl. I'm supposed to be with her right now. Don't throw another tantrum like that. Not now. I don't want to be late. I'm not going to be late just because you are being a brat.”

You push his hand away, sitting up fully. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Rafe. I don’t want to tolerate your bullshit anymore.”

Rafe sighs again, frustrated. He grabs your chin again, more roughly this time. He moves closer to you, pinning you against the pillows. “You just promised me last night you wouldn't doubt my love for you again. I'm going to spank that bratty little ass of yours if you keep this bullshit up.”

“I’m not doubting you, I just…” You sigh, pushing against his grip. “I want to be your first choice. I want to be your only choice. I don’t want to be the other woman anymore.”

“You don't think I know that?” He snaps, his grip tightening. “I know that, sweetheart. You think I don’t know that? I know you don’t want to share, I know you want me to be only yours, I know all of that. But I don’t have a choice right now, alright? Why can’t you understand that?”

His grip stings your skin. You wince slightly, pushing against him. “Why can’t you just break up with her, Rafe?”

“Because I have to play the long game with her, baby. I don’t expect you to understand, but you gotta trust me. This will pay off in the long run, I swear. So stop being a brat about this, please.” He moves closer, shifting one hand to pinch your hip as a warning. “I don’t want to have to punish you for questioning me.”

You whine, squirming under his grip. “Rafe, please, just listen to me! I swear, you don’t need her, she’s just using you--”

Rafe’s phone starts ringing, vibrating on your bedside table. 

It’s Sofia.

Rafe looks over the nightstand, gritting his teeth when he sees her name. He sighs, grabbing his phone and holding it to his ear. “Hey, babe.” He says, his voice suddenly soft. He turns to look at you, a warning gaze telling you to keep your mouth shut.

The way he says babe makes your heart ache, tears welling in your eyes. You crawl towards the edge of the bed, wrapping your arms around his hips, and press your face into his stomach. You want him to stay with you.

He gently places a hand on your head, his fingers running through your hair as he talks to Sofia. “Yeah, I’m on my way right now, I’m just running late.” He says, his voice sweet as usual. There’s a pause as Sofia responds to him, his voice softening even more as he answers. “Of course I still want to come, babe. You know I do.”  He tugs your head back before moving his free hand to your chin, pinching it between his fingertips as he glances down at you.

Your bottom lip trembles as his thumb brushes over it. You kiss it, trying to nuzzle his hand.

Rafe’s silent as he listens to Sofia respond to him, his gaze growing dark as he glances at your face. He lets you nuzzle his hand, dragging his thumb across your teeth as he responds, his voice growing a bit deeper as he speaks. “Yeah, I’ll be there in half an hour, I promise, okay?” He sighs, holding your chin. “Alright. I love you too, babe. See you soon.”

I love you.

I love you?

Your eyebrows furrow and you immediately pull away, moving towards the head of the bed, trying to soften your cries as he hangs up the phone.

Rafe sighs, shutting his phone off and setting it back on the nightstand. He glances at you, watching as you scoot backwards towards the top of the bed. He frowns. “Hey. Come here.” His voice is so soft that you almost give in.

You shake your head over and over, bringing your knees to your chest. How stupid could you be? Why did you even believe him in the first place?

“Stop it.” He snaps, his voice suddenly serious. He grabs one of your ankles, pulling you down towards him. “I said, come here. Don’t make me say it again.” He pulls you down the rest of the way, pinning you against the headboard with his large, strong frame.

You try not to cry, biting the inside of your lip, squirming underneath him. “Just go. You’re going to be late.”

“Baby-” He sighs, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “Why are you being such a brat? We talked about this last night, alright? I told you to trust me, so why can’t you trust me?” He gently takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. “I swear, this attitude of yours really needs to stop. Don’t make me put you over my knee.”

The way he talks to you makes your skin crawl and your stomach churn. You squirm, trying to get him off of you. “Please let go, Rafe. I understand. Please just let go.”

He sighs again, frustrated. He sits back a bit, but he doesn’t move back entirely. He continues to hover above you, towering over your frame. “Sweet girl, please, stop this. I told you last night, I don’t want to have to punish you. I don’t want to fight you, but you have to let me work with her. I swear to you that I’m going to dump her as soon as I can, alright? You have to trust me.”

You sniffle, squirming underneath him. “Promise?”

“I promise.” He says, cupping your face and forcing you to look at him, his face just a few inches from yours. “I swear to you, I’m gonna dump her soon, alright? I’m not just saying that to make you feel better, sweetheart. I love you, alright? I swear.”

“I love you too.” You say. And you mean it. Does he?

He sighs, his brow softening. He leans in and kisses you, his lips gently gliding over yours. He pulls away after a moment, just to stare at you for a moment. He then glances at the clock on the nightstand over his shoulder, sighing again. “Okay, pretty girl, I really do need to get going now. I’m definitely gonna be late if I’m any more late. I’m sorry.” He moves back, releasing your chin.

“Be safe.” You call, standing up from your bed.

Rafe pauses, glancing back at you with a small smile, lingering by the door to your bedroom. “I will. Don’t throw any tantrums while I’m gone, alright?” He sighs, his expression growing soft. “I’ll call you when I’m headed back, baby. Love you.”

He exits your bedroom, and a few seconds later you hear your front door open and close.

You’re alone. Again.

It's only 8:30 AM, but the weight of the world already presses down on your shoulders. You groan, climbing back into your bed and burying your face in the pillow. You sniffle, wiping away the tears on your cheeks and your undereyes. Your mind races, and you know you should get up and get ready for the day. You should also eat something. The tasks loom like dark clouds on the horizon, threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you close your eyes and go back to sleep, even just for a little bit.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You forgot you smashed your phone.

After your morning shower and a rather large breakfast, trying to make up for the last two days. You search your living room for a while before finding it curled around the corner of the plaster wall. It’s smashed in half, the screen cracked all the way down to the charger port. Thankfully, you had a bit of forethought last night, ordering the phone to be for next day pickup rather than delivery.

You pick up the two halves of your phone, your finger accidentally running over the screen. Somehow, the phone still turns on, glitching for a moment. You carefully throw it into the trashcan before sweeping up the excess glass. You’ll have to go pick up your new phone today, as much as you don’t want to.

Maybe I’ll just go after lunch…, you think. You really don’t want to go out right now, especially not to the Apple Store in the mall, but then you remember that Rafe said he would call you tonight. You rub your eyes, letting out a loud groan before heading into your bedroom to change.

It takes you around an hour to get ready, picking out your outfit, fixing your hair, doing your makeup, getting yourself looking somewhat presentable and not like you just laid on your couch for two days. You end up picking a simple yet cute outfit, a white sweater tucked into a short dark blue skirt, black tights, and some heeled boots, and a small black leather shoulder bag. You check your reflection in your bedroom mirror, sighing to yourself. You looked good, really good. You could almost hear Rafe’s comments on your outfit; ‘You look great, sweetheart, but that means other men will think so, too.’ But maybe you did want them to think that way.

You hesitate a moment when you grab your keys. You’re still exhausted and really don’t want to go get your phone, but you need to get your phone, even for non Rafe-related reasons.

With a heavy sigh, you grab your keys and head out. 

After a short drive and a long peruse of the parking lot, you finally head inside the mall. You feel inclined to check Sofia’s Instagram, reaching for a phone that isn’t there. Making your way through the mall, you finally reach the Apple Store, which is mostly empty, and you’re quickly able to get in line for customer support. Luckily, it doesn’t take too long for you to get in, and soon enough, you’re talking with one of the employees, giving them the serial number of the phone you ordered. The woman behind the counter is all smiles, seemingly kind and cheery. She taps away at the computer on the counter top, typing in the number. She asks you routine questions before setting up your phone for you, sliding it across the table. 

“Thanks.” You say, standing up. “We’re all good on payment, right?”

The woman, Sherri, smiles and nods. “Everything’s all set, honey!” She says, cheerful. “Anything else we can do for you today?”

“I am all set.” You say, giving her a smile before hurriedly rushing out of the Apple Store. You mess around with your phone settings, looking down as you walk. 

“Ow. Hey—” You bump into someone as you step out of the Apple Store, glancing down at your phone instead of watching where you’re going. A familiar voice makes you stop dead in your tracks, and your head tilts slightly, a small smile on your face. 

“JJ, hey.” You say, putting your phone into your purse for safe keeping. 

JJ is grinning, as usual, his hands stuffed in his pockets and that charming smirk still on his face. “Hey, sugar.” He says, looking you up and down. “You look fancy today, you goin’ somewhere?”

“Just had to get a new phone,” You say, pulling it out to show him. “Smashed mine by accident.”

“Damn, that sucks, baby doll.” He says, leaning in a little closer to look at it. “You gotta be more careful with your stuff. A pretty thing like you needs to take care of herself.”

You blush, and your ears turn pink, too. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially with JJ. Even though Rafe had filled your head with tons of negative opinions on JJ, you had never had a problem with him. “Y-yeah, I know.” You’re having a hard time forming sentences, stuck on an endless loop of blushing and admiring the blond in front of you. 

“Mmm, such a cute blush. You’re a lil flustered.” He teases, leaning in closer, his eyes looking you up and down. He reaches out and grabs your hand to gently pull you closer, and you oblige, getting right up against him. “C’mon, baby doll, you got a crush on me now or somethin’?”

“Maybe.” You say softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

He chuckles, looking down at you. “Yeah, sweetheart? You got a thing for me?” His tone turns teasing, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.  His moves his hand up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb along your jawline. “What, boyfriend ain’t treatin’ your cute little ass right, or somethin’? That why you got a crush on me?”

“You know I don’t have a boyfriend, JJ.” You say, reaching out and rubbing the hem of his button-up shirt, your thumb swirling on one of the buttons. 

JJ grins at you, the smirk growing wider. “That right, pretty girl?” He asks, letting go of your chin and grabbing your hand, stopping you from swirling your thumb along his shirt. He grabs your hand instead, his touch rough. “If you don’t got a boyfriend, then that means you’re free game, darlin’.”

You intertwine your fingers, tugging him closer. “That I am.”

“Oh yeah?” JJ grins, being pulled closer to you. He grabs your wrist, turning and pulling you against his chest, his free hand resting comfortably on your hip. “That means I could kiss you, and you’d let me?” His voice is low, just above a whisper, as he looks down at you. He grins. “Maybe I’ll try it right now.”

“A kiss before our first date?” You ask, tilting your head a little. “How naughty of you, JJ.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head. “I’m a naughty boy, sugar, everyone knows that.” He says, his eyes looking you up and down once again. “But you look just too damn cute in that girly little outfit of yours, I can’t resist you. You’re too damn pretty.” He smiles again. “But yeah, I guess I should take you on a proper date first, huh?”

You nod, tugging him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Are you free now?”

JJ laughs, his arms wrapping fully around your frame as you tug him closer. He rests his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. He squeezes your hips with his fingers. “Free as a bird, baby doll. You wanna go right now?”

You nod, incredibly eager, willing to do anything to get your mind off of Rafe. You look up at him and bite your lip. “How about we try that new breakfast bistro downtown?”

“Whatever you say, sugar.” JJ says, his smirk growing wide as he notices the eager look on your face. “You seem like you’re kinda hungry for somethin’.” His hand moves to the small of your back, gently holding your frame close to his. “Breakfast bistro ain’t a bad place to start.”

“My car or yours?” You ask. 

He grins, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to look at him. “You don’t mind ridin’ with me, do you, sweetheart?” 

You shake your head. 

He smiles back down at you, leaning in closer. His face is just a few inches away from yours, his eyes staring down into yours before glancing to your lips. “Good.” He whispers. “Cuz I don’t think we can both fit in your teeny, tiny car. Plus…riding on my bike means you can hold onto me.”

You glance at his lips before meeting his eyes. “I’m ready when you are, handsome. But remember,” You lean a little closer. “It’s just one date.”

He chuckles, his grip on your chin tightening just slightly before he leans in to give you a gentle kiss. “You’re cute as hell, you know that?” He asks, pulling away a moment later, grabbing your hand again. “C’mon, sugar, my bike’s parked out back.”

You eagerly follow him, your whole body feeling fuzzy.

The new bistro is called the Early Bird Cafe & Bistro. 

It’s totally not your fault it’s the same restaurant Rafe and Sofia are supposed to be at, just like it’s totally not your fault that you’re here with JJ at the same exact time. You spot Rafe right away, wearing that light blue sweater that drives you absolutely crazy, hugging his biceps and shoulders so well you wish you could sink your teeth into him. 

You slip the hostess $20, hoping she would let you get the empty table directly behind them. Sofia would have her back to you, but Rafe would get a front row seat. Your little bribe works, and she quickly leads you and JJ into the bistro and to the nearest empty table, right behind Rafe and Sofia’s table. You can feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you hurry into your seat, JJ sitting across from you, resting his hand on the table.

It’s perfect. You and Rafe can look each other dead in the eyes, while Sofia and JJ will have no idea. 

At first, you try to focus on JJ, listening to him talk as you look at the menu. You only peek at Rafe every few seconds, your eyes drawn to him, no matter how hard you try. He’s just sitting there, talking to Sofia as usual, but he keeps glancing at you, his eyes watching you intently. You order the cheapest thing on the menu, leaning across the table and holding JJ’s hand while he talks about his bike and how much it cost to fix it.

You prop your hand up on your palm, pushing your lips into a pout, and look up at JJ while he talks. You know Rafe is watching you.

JJ is absolutely loving your attention, oblivious to the fact that you’re doing all of this just to make Rafe watch. He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you when he sees the pout on your lips. “Oh, c’mon, you gonna give me that cute little pout? You tryna make me blush or somethin’, baby doll?” He reaches out and brushes his thumb along your lower lip. You kiss it, pressing your tongue against it.

He groans under his breath at the gesture, the smirk spreading wide on his face. “Oh, shit. You know, I love that mouth of yours.” He says, a hint of warning in his tone, his hand still holding your chin as his thumb continues to rub along your lower lip. You lick the tip of his thumb again, Rafe’s furious expression visible even out of the corner of your eye.

JJ’s lips twitch at the gesture, letting his thumb slide fully past your open lips, pushing into your mouth as he leans closer to you. “God dammit, you know how to tease a man, don’t you?” You kiss his thumb again before pulling back as the waitress rounds the corner, setting your food down.

Rafe is furious, chewing aggressively and holding his silverware so tight it might snap under the pressure. Sofia is rambling about something he doesn’t care about, completely unaware of his eyes remaining solely on you.

You keep your attention on JJ for the rest of your date. All things considered, he's actually a really sweet guy. Even after finishing your food, you continue to sit and chat, and you notice Rafe and Sofia doing the same. He was keeping an eye on you, occasionally glancing your way. The bistro starts to close down, so you and JJ start to head out. You fish through our purse for some more cash, but JJ’s already throwing it down, even including a small but reasonable tip.

“Thanks, JJ.” You say, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” He says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I’m treatin’ you, alright? You don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

And you don’t.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

JJ gives you a ride back to the mall so you can pick up your car. After sharing a few more kisses, your back pressed against the hood, he reluctantly pulls away. 

“I had fun, sweetheart, seriously.” He whispers, his thumb rubbing your lips again before resting his hands on your hips as he leans closer. He gives one final kiss, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. “I’ll call you later, alright?” He mutters, kissing you one final time. 

You nod. “Ride safe, okay?”

He chuckles, kissing your nose before letting you go. “Of course.” He says, putting on his helmet. “I’ll call you later. You be safe, too.” He gives a last wink before getting onto his bike and riding off. You wave him off, watching him leave the parking lot. You ride home on cloud nine, your chest feeling light, almost euphoric. You felt happy and wanted for the first time in a while.

When you go to pull into your parking spot, you see Rafe's dirt bike parked right next to it. “Fuck.” You groan softly, grabbing your purse before getting out of the car, closing the door behind you.

As you walk towards your front door, unlocking it, you hear the soft sound of music inside. You push open the door, your eyes widening when you see Rafe sitting on the edge of the couch, sitting in the dark. The only thing that gives the room any light is the streetlamp outside, the soft glow filtering through your windows. He looks up at you as you come in, a cold, blank expression on his face.

“How did you get in here?” You ask, setting your bag down.

At first, he doesn’t respond to you, sitting completely still. He watches your every movement, his eyes narrowing as you set down your bag. He stands up, slowly approaching you. He grabs your face in an iron grip, squeezing your cheeks just a bit too hard as he tilts your head up so you’re forced to look at him. There’s nothing but barely restrained anger in his eyes. “You have some gall.” He says, his voice low. “Being there with him. Letting him kiss you. Letting him touch you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You say. “You do that a lot.”

“Shut up.” He says, his hand still on your face. His eyes are cold and furious. “I had to watch him touch you. Kiss you. Look at you. Hold you.” His grip on your face tightens slightly. “I had to sit there and watch it. It was all I could do not to drag him out into the alley and break his goddamn fingers. I should’ve been on that date with you. That should’ve been me.”

“I’m tired of being your second choice, Rafe.” You snap. “I want a boyfriend. I don’t want to sneak around. I don’t want to be the other woman anymore.”

“Don’t you dare throw that in my face.” His voice is soft yet threatening, his fingers tightening around your face even more. “You know it’s more complicated than that. You’re not my second choice, sweetheart, you’re just-.” He sighs, frustrated. “Damn it, sweetheart, you’re just…” He shakes his head. “You’re mine. You belong to me. End of story.”

“Then fucking prove it.” You say. “You want me? You want me to belong to you? Dump Sofia. Dump her right now.”

He’s furious. He grabs your arms, squeezing them hard. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, I can’t yet.” He hisses, pulling you closer to him. “I can’t get rid of her until I’m ready, alright?”

“I’m not going to wait that long.” You say.

Your phone vibrates on the dining table, a phone call from JJ.

Rafe groans under his breath, his eyes darting to your phone just a few feet away. “Don’t.” He says, his grip on your arms tightening. “Don’t you pick that up.”

Your face falls slightly. “I’m not waiting around forever, Rafe. I’m not going to sit here and just hope that one day you’ll want me.”

He groans again, his grip on you bruising. “God damn it, I want you now.” He says, pulling you so close against him that you’re practically pushed flush against his chest. “I promise I’m going to break up with her, I promise, just give me some goddamn time.” His eyes are growing red and bloodshot.

You shake your head, your voice soft when you speak. “I can’t wait that long, Rafe. I won’t. You either have me now, or you don’t have me at all.”

Rafe scoffs, his eyes narrowing. “So what, you’re gonna run off to that dumbass, just because I can’t leave Sofia yet?” His grip tightens again. “Is that it, sweetheart? You’re just gonna toss me aside for some nobody?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” You say softly. 

He lets out a shaky breath, his arms wrapping around you. He buries his face into your neck, pulling you tight against his chest. “You’re supposed to trust me, pretty girl.” He mutters, his voice trembling. “You’re supposed to trust that I’m gonna pick you, that I’m gonna break up with her.”

“I don’t want some of you. I want all of you.” You say. “I don’t want to wait around until you decide to pick me.”

“You’ve got all of me, baby, I promise you.” He mutters into your neck, his arms squeezing you tighter. “I swear to you, you’ve got all of me, I just-.” God, he sounds so desperate, and his eyes are starting to well with tears. “Sweetheart, I need you to trust me, alright? I swear I’m gonna end it with her.”

You shake your head. “Rafe, I’m sorry. I can’t wait around for you anymore.”

He whines, pulling you back by your shoulders so he can look at you. He cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “God damn it, sweetheart, you’re killing me here. Don’t you understand? I need more time--”

His phone rings this time, lighting up from its spot on your dining table.

A call from Sofia.

You take a deep breath. You can do this. “You can either break up with her right now, or you can leave.”

He stares into your eyes, his face growing desperate. He can’t believe this is really happening. He’s going to lose you, he’s going to lose his mind, he’s going to lose the last good thing that ever happened to him. He doesn’t even know what to say.

The phone stops ringing.

You breathe out softly as it starts ringing again. “Choose, Rafe. Sofia or me. You can’t have both anymore. It’s not fair to me or her.”

He’s desperate, and panicked. He’s losing you. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he loses you. He whines again, the ring of the phone still echoing through your apartment. He doesn’t have time to think about it.

He slams his lips against yours, kissing you heatedly, passionately, desperately.

You pull away. “No, Rafe. Fucking pick something for once in your goddamned life.”

His hands are shaking as he grabs your shoulders. His breathing is shaky as he tries to pull you in for another kiss, but you won’t let him. He looks so desperate, his eyes full of panic as he stares into yours. His phone starts ringing again and finally, he slams his palm down against your dining table, the sound loud and harsh. “I-“ He pants, his voice strained. “I choose you, pretty girl. Alright?” He reaches over and picks up the phone, putting it up to his ear.

You’re honestly a little surprised. You were certain he was going to pick Sofia. You reach out and grab his free hand, rubbing your thumb against his palm. He’s still wearing that blue sweater.

He swallows, standing up straighter and gripping your hand. “Hey, So-.” He’s interrupted, Sofia’s muffled voice ringing through the phone. She sounds annoyed, maybe even a little angry. Rafe’s expression grows even more desperate as he listens to her talking, his fingers squeezing around yours almost painfully. 

Finally, Sofia stops talking. Rafe’s quiet for a long moment, swallowing hard again as he takes a long, deep breath. “Oh. Um, yeah, Sofia, about that-” He pauses again as she speaks through the phone. He swallows again, his eyes beginning to tear up as his voice breaks. “Actually, I think we should break up, I-.” More talking from Sofia, longer this time, sounding even more pissed. Rafe grimaces, biting his lip as his fingers squeeze yours even tighter.

You step forward, reaching out and wrapping your hand around his bicep, squeezing it softly, a silent sign of support.

Rafe’s eyes flick over to you, a little surprised you’re still willing to be this close to him, but he looks relieved, his eyes growing glassy and even more desperate as he stares into yours. He nods, his voice still trembling as he tries to respond to what Sofia is saying. “No, I mean it, Sofia… I’m serious, it’s over… because I- I’m actually- I’m seeing someone else.”

You squeeze his bicep again.

He closes his eyes, swallowing hard, his whole body tense and on edge. He’s never been in a situation like this before. Sofia says something else, her voice louder through the phone. Rafe sighs, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head, trying to keep his composure. “No, Sofia, I- I’m not doing this shit anymore. I’m in love with her, alright? I’ve been seeing her for months now, and I’m in love with her… and I can’t keep doing all this. I’m sorry.”

You hear Sofia screaming at him before she hangs up. Rafe tosses his phone onto the table. A soft squeak leaves your mouth when he suddenly hugs you, burying his face in your neck.

You hug him back, rubbing his back as he starts to cry. “Rafe, honey, it’s okay.”

He hugs you so damn tight. His shoulders are shaking, his breathing shallow and desperate. “Please, god…” He mutters, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Sweetheart, please don’t leave me. God dammit, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I put you through that, please don’t leave me. I need you, sweet girl. I need you.” His voice is soft and trembling into your ear as he whispers.

“I’m not leaving.” You say softly, rubbing his back. “I’ll call JJ tomorrow and let him down easy. I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”

Rafe squeezes you tighter. He’s scared, his breathing still shaky, his grip like iron. “Promise me.” He whispers, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your skin between each word. “Please, please promise me. Promise me you’re staying with me. Promise me you aren’t going anywhere, that you won’t leave me. Please.”

“I promise.” You say, over and over, as many times as he needs. You gently take his face in your hands, wiping away some of his tears.

He lets you wipe away his tears, the shaking in his shoulders lessening. He keeps his face close to yours, his arms still wrapped around you. He nuzzles his nose against yours gently, leaning his forehead against yours as he closes his eyes. “Thank you.” He mutters, his voice still trembling, barely audible. “Thank you, baby. You’re not leaving me. You’re still staying with me. You’re still mine.” His hand lifts to gently cup your cheek.

You kiss him, gently at first. He lets you lead the kiss. It’s gentle, and soft, and tender, he just wants to feel your lips on his, needs to feel them against his. But after a moment, his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer, wanting more, needing more. His lips move against yours more hungrily now. You eagerly match the hungry pace.

You shiver as his hands travel down from your waist to your lower back, then to your ass, grabbing and squeezing it. There’s a new desperation in his kiss, in his grip, in his whole being. It’s like you’ve finally gotten through to him, finally broken through the bullshit and made him realize just how much he needs you. He eagerly picks you up, and you let him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you into your bedroom.

The bed squeaks as he throws you down onto it. Rafe kneels at the end of it, grabbing your ankles and tugging you towards him. He’s quick to remove your tights and your skirt. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m gonna be a good boy.”

“You are a good boy.” You say gently as you lift your hips. He slides the tights all the way down, kissing up your legs.

Rafe groans, loving the way you call him ‘good boy.’ You can feel the smile that spreads across his lips as he kisses along your legs. He kisses his way up your thighs, stopping to bite at your skin, leaving behind bruises.  He reaches your hips, yanking down your panties and tossing them away. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your hip. He looks up, meeting your eyes. “You’re so pretty, baby.”

You bite your lip. "Are you sure you want to do this?”

Rafe nods, moving his hands to grip your hips. “I'm sure. I want this.” His voice is firm, filled with determination. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before trailing his lips higher. He nuzzles against your cunt, inhaling deeply. “Fuck...you smell so good.”

He parts your folds with his fingers, revealing how wet you already are for him. He licks his lips hungrily before diving in, his tongue lapping at your slit eagerly. He moans into your pussy, the vibrations making you gasp and arch off the bed. His hands grip your hips tighter, holding you in place as he eats you out like a starving man. “Mmmm...so fuckin' sweet,” he mumbles between long licks.

A moan escapes your lips, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure courses through your body. “Oh god, Rafe…” You pant, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Fuck…”

Rafe growls low in his throat. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, swirling around your clit. He sucks on it gently, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue. His hands slide up to cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. He pinches and tugs at the hard peaks, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core as you squeal, squirming underneath him.

“Look at you. So responsive,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Gonna make you come so hard, baby.” His nose nudges against your clit as he tongues your entrance. You squeal, your back arching off of the bed. You reach up and tug on one of your nipples, your pussy gushing on his face.

Rafe laps up your juices greedily, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking your dripping cunt. He moans at the taste of you, more turned on than ever. He reaches down with one hand, unbuckling his belt. His cock throbs in his slacks and he can’t take it anymore, edging closer to your legs. Caught up in the smell, taste, and feel of you, he starts to hump your calf, his thighs squeezing your leg to steady it. He moans into your cunt, pulling away from your little clit for only a second before latching back on.

He continues to suck and nibble on your clit while finger-fucking you roughly, plunging two digits deep into your tight cunt. “You're so fuckin' wet for me, baby,” he grunts, breaking the seal from your pussy to speak. “Love eating this sweet cunt.” 

Your toes curl. “You didn't ask if you could hump me, baby.” Normally Rafe is always the dominant one, using you like a personal fuck toy, but with his face buried between your legs and his cock rubbing up against your calf, you feel like taking charge.

Rafe whines, stopping his hips. “Baby, fuck, please let me hump you! It feels so good, eating you out feels so fucking good.” His breath is hot against your slick folds, his tongue darting out to lap at your juices, savoring the flavor of you. He gazes up at you, sucking your clit directly into his mouth.

Your back arches deliciously, and you nod. “You can hump me, baby. Make yourself feel good.”

With a relieved groan, Rafe resumes humping your leg, his thick cock sliding against your skin through his pants. He rocks his hips faster, the friction driving him wild. His tongue never leaves your clit, continuing to swirl and suckle the sensitive bundle of nerves. “You like watching me hump you, don't you?” he rasps, his voice strained. “Seeing me lose control because of you... Fuck, I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” You moan, hips bucking in his face. “Good boy. Keep going.”

Hearing you call him ‘good boy’, Rafe lets out a satisfied grunt. He increases his pace, his hips rocking against your leg even harder. He continues to lick and suck on your clit, driving you crazy with pleasure. He can feel himself getting close, his balls tightening and his cock throbbing. “God, baby, I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum!” he warns, his voice shaky with anticipation. “Cum with me, please!”

Rafe's warning turns into a guttural moan as he finally loses control. His hips jerk erratically, grinding his clothed erection against your leg as he orgasms. Thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, soaking through his pants and staining your skin. At the same time, he sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue working overtime to bring you to climax alongside him.

As the waves of pleasure subside, he slowly pulls away, licking his lips clean of your essence. He climbs up onto the bed next to you, his eyes glazed with satisfaction and adoration. “I love you. I love you so much,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You're so fucking hot when you cum for me. Such a good girl.”

“I love you too,” You say, grabbing him and pulling him closer.

He looks down at his slacks, soaked and covered with cum. He hums, reaching up and cupping your face. “Do you wanna clean me up, baby?”

You take a deep breath, a small smile gracing your face. “Yeah.”

Rafe grins, climbing up to lean against the headboard as you start to lick the wet spot on his slacks.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

★taglist: @ietss, @loves0phelia, @drewsphswife, @pillowprincess4him, @maybankslover, @theeternaloptimistt, @jumpme300, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @matthewswifeeee, @katekells, @writtenbyhollywood, @starkeyslove, @emluvsbunnies, @bunnystuffsworld, @xbrookxsstuff, @emeloyy, italics mean i couldn't tag you! x

want to get updates for when i post a new obx fic? join my obx taglist here!

[sttoru]

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

[evie-sturns]

𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘥 - 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: when you and matt first started dating, you made a rule, that you two would never go to sleep mad at each other, but tonight a heated argument breaks that rule.

warnings: arguing, angst?, crying, swearing, fluff.

------------------⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★--------------———

me and matt don't fight often, in our 4 months of being together we've only bickered, aside from the odd big argument. we always make up by the end of the day because of our rule. never fall asleep angry with each other.

9:48pm

"matt i promise, i didn't mean to." i sigh, i'm exhausted after our arguing, which has been going on for 45 minutes.

"you didn't mean to search my phone, im sure." he scoffs, grabbing his phone and checking the time.

"i fucking didn't matt, your phone was being spammed every 2 seconds so i picked it up, then you came in, its not my fault it looked different from how it actually was."

i say, my voice raising as i go to walk away, but matt grabs my wrist, yanking me back towards him. "so all the other apps that had been opened weren't you hm?"

he says glaring down at me, matt never loosens his painful grip, i don't think he even realises he's hurting me. his rings leave red marks on my arm.

"im going to sleep matthew." i say, my voice barely audible and wobbling.

matt's grip softens, allowing me to pull away.

i run upstairs, slamming the door to the bedroom behind me as i hold back my tears.

i rarely cry, matt's only seen me cry a handful of times meaning its a shock for him each time i do.

i strip down to just a tank top and panties before crawling into bed, shutting my eyes, hoping to sleep off the built-up frustration inside me.

just as i feel myself drifting to sleep the door swings open, followed by matt's angry stomps. he rips down the covers and plops himself in, before yanking them back up.

after a few minutes i roll over, matts back is facing me. i reach out a hand to grab his, he pushes me off. "dude don't fucking touch me?" matt says, somehow moving further away from me.

that'll do it.

i climb out of bed, grabbing my pillow as i walk over to the small basket in the corner of our room, filled with blankets from our previous movie nights. i pull up a blanket into my arms as tears fill my waterline. matt flicks on the lamp which rests on our bedside table, a warm yellow light fills the room.

"what the fuck are you doing this time." matt says, squinting his eyes.

i erupt into sobs, my face scrunching as tears soak my face. through my blurred vision, i can partially see concern and worry painted across matts face. i have a pillow under my arm, a blanket in my other and im clutching matts pug stuffed animal, which we share now.

i walk out of the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind me before sprinting downstairs, i place my pillow down on the small couch, and lay down, pulling the grey blanket over me and cuddling the pug to my chest, which shortly gets damp from my tears.

11:34pm

i dont know how long ive been asleep, or even where i am, but i'm woken up from matts arms around me, holding me in a bridal position. "matt..?" i say, looking up at him through my swollen eyes.

"i know gorgeous, theres no heating down here its too cold for you sweetheart." matt says, his voice soft and quiet.

my eyebrows furrow, did we even fight? or did i dream it? i look down at my wrist, which is red from where matt grabbed me earlier,

we fought.

matt carries me upstairs, his grip on me is so gentle i cant even comprehend how I'm being held up right now.

he opens our bedroom door with his elbow, the room is pristine, cleaner than I've ever seen it. "why is it so tidy in here.." i squeeze out, my voice raspy. matt clears his throat "oh-.. uh couldn't sleep so i cleaned.."

he pulls back the covers, readjusting the pillow with one hand before laying me down. "do you want me to come in the bed with you or are you happy by yourself.." matt says, his voice timid.

"you can come in.." i say, wide awake now and fully aware of everything thats happened in the past 3 hours.

matt lies down next to me, his body tense.

"im really sorry, i feel so guilty." matt says, tilting his head to look over at me. i nod, "it was my fault too." i say, fidgeting with my nails.

"no its not, i overreacted so much i don't even know what went over me, i regret it so much." matts voice shakes.

"i feel like shit for even touching you." matt says, "and i'm sorry for waking you up but i didnt want to break our rule.."

"huh?" i say, looking over at him, our eyes making eye contact.

"no going to bed angry with eachother.." he says with a small laugh.

i roll over to face him, a wide smile spread across my face. "oh matt.." i say, climbing ontop of him and laying down, burying my face on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around, underneath him.

he hugs me back with a sigh of relief, but somethings different,

"matt! where are your rings?" i say, sitting up on his torso and grabbing his hand.

"i couldn't even look at them without feeling guilty, i know they dug into your arm.."

------------------⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★--------------———

i love this i was in such a writey mood

[tojipie]

prison bf series linked here !

hii ! not rly phone sex, but sex nonetheless. i’m rly loving this series <33 prison toji unboxing fic coming someday in the distant future.

content: nsfw + phone sex

──────────────────────

the sudden vibrations of your phone’s ringer rips you from the boundary between sleep and awareness. you groggily reach for the device from it’s place under your pillow, clicking the off button twice to end the call.

the number rings again, then a third time before you finally pick up, ready to tear into the poor soul on the other line. it’s a facetime call from an area code you don’t recognize, probably just a misdial if you’re lucky.

you hesitantly accept and tilt the camera towards the ceiling, shielding your face from the stranger.

“hello..?” you mumble sleepily, trying to get a good look at your phone without revealing too much of yourself. the person’s screen is grainy from the lack of light, probably calling you on an older model.

the stranger’s camera pans down, revealing familiar tufts of straight raven hair. toji stares up at you from his bunk, shirtless with the sheets bunched up to his chest.

“you too good to pick up the phone now?” he asks, clearly teasing. the inmate’s voice is quiet, coming out in choppy rivets as his dated microphone picks up what it can.

“toji!?” you whisper scream, sitting up to turn your beside lamp on. the additional light helps illuminate your figure better, you notice his eyes perk up at the clearer sight of you.

“mmmh, happy to see you babydoll.” he grins, leaning closer to get a good look at you. your eyes are puffy with the promise of rest, giving you that extra bought of softness he loves so much.

“oh shit, were you sleeping? m’ sorry.”

he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“nono i’m awake.” you reassure the older man, taking in the sight of him laid out on the narrow cot. your boyfriend had aged since the beginning of his sentence, though you figure that’s not out of the ordinary for someone serving time. “how’d you even get a phone?”

“s’ a secret.” he muses, clearly finding the situation amusing. “i get to talk to my baby though, isn’t that nice?” he states plainly, shifting to prop his head up with his hand.

“it is, actually.” you mumble apologetically, feeling bad at your initial lack of a greeting. “m’ happy you called me.”

you pause, choosing your next words carefully “don’t you have bunkmates?” you wonder, searching the background for any signs of other men in the dark cell. the promise of being ratted out by a cell mate was one that wouldn’t end well for either of you.

“nah, lawyers said i’m too dangerous to be staying in D-block with everyone.” he states boredly, shifting again to lie on his back with a grunt.

“wh— are you serious?” you whine, already mulling over the countless conversations you’ve had with him regarding his nasty fighting habit.

“pfttt, no?” the inmate chuckles, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh. “last guy in the cell got out on wednesday, ‘s just me in here till’ my sentence is up.”

he stills, looking you up and down quickly.

"fuck." he grumbles, you look real pretty right now."

you sigh in relief, ignoring the compliment to continue grilling him. “so you’ve been getting along with people?” you ask, skill skeptical.

“you know—hah- how i am.” he tells you, clearing his throat before continuing. the screen begins to wobble a little, blurring his figure for a moment. “when have i —fuck- ever been out of line, huh? ”

“i think you were pretty out of line when you went to fucking jail.” you tease, pausing to analyze his hurried breaths on the other line.

“toji? do you feel ok?” you ask, wishing you were there to check up on him.

“yeah—mmgh- why? his camera starts to pan up shakily, phone slipping from his hand. the last of his facade shatters as a pleased groan rings out in the tiny cell.

“fuck.” he whines, “fuck— oh my god. you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

“show me.” you command, finally piecing everything together.

the older man flips the camera and brings it right up to his hard cock, stroking it from the base up with vigor.

his tip is an angry pink, weeping milky precum down his shaft to glaze his knuckles. the sounds coming from your phone are absolutely filthy, a hot mix of pants, groans and expletives .

“oh my god.” you giggle, propping your phone up to watch better. “is that all for me?” the dips and hills of his abs jolt as he laughs.

“all for you.” he pants, bucking his hips up every time his fist meets his tip.

“is this why you called me?” you tease, watching his cock bob back and forth in his hand. the older man stops to thumb his slit, massaging milky pre into the tip before starting up again. “you just wanted to get off? didn’t wanna talk to me or nothing?”

“no—hah. i mean—.” he groans, clearly too out of it to answer. “fuck. fuck i’m close.”

you squeeze your legs together to quell the ache between your thighs, content to just watch him enjoy himself.

sharing a room with 4 other people means little to no time alone, that much you knew from your visits. it wasn’t rare for him to pitch a tent during your supervised phone calls, squeezing his cock behind a glass barrier while you gushed about your day.

a hearty groan knocks your train of thought loose as ropes of cum stream down his knuckles and onto the sheets. you watch in awe as he milks his dick, slapping it onto his stomach for the added simulation.

you wait until his breaths even out to speak, watching him grab a towel from off camera to clean himself up.

“feel better?” you ask, so badly wishing you were there to kiss him in the midst of his afterglow.

“so much better.” he sighs, shifting to lay on his side again.

“they definitely heard you. i mean those rooms don’t have doors right?”

“of course they fucking have doors.” he grumbles, clearly embarrassed at the thought of getting caught dick-in-hand.

“did you..” he trails off, rubbing his eyes with a soft yawn.

“too tired.” you state plainly, shifting the focus from your pleasure to his.

“i don’t deserve you.” he mumbles, dark eyes barely open.

“course you do baby.” you whisper. “you wanna head to bed? i’m coming up on thursday to visit.”

“you are?” the excitement in his voice is adorable.

“mhm, might even bring you a charger for that piece of shit burner you swiped.”

the jab earns you a booming laugh, lulling you back to the precipice of sleep.

────────────────────────

tag list ! <3 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa

[mattsrod]

- ; MATTHEW STURNIOLO ; - ' MORNINGS '

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

- ; warnings - smut, sub!matt, a little plot, masturbation, boners, interrupted sex.

- ; 9:05 am

your eyes were still glued shut with sleep as you rolled over in bed, throwing your arm to the right which hit your boyfriend in the stomach, of course.

matt shot awake, clutching his stomach instantaneously. after a few seconds of sputtering out swear words under his breath the said, "new way to wake me up, huh?"

you groaned in response, much too tired to give him a proper answer. the only thing on your mind was going back to sleep, but your boyfriend poking you in your side made that pretty difficult .

"matt, stop." you said curtly, grabbing his hand.

"your the one who woke me up, shouldnt i be mad?" he turned you over so you were facing him, taking a moment to look at all of your features.

"matt i can feel you staring at me." you spoke before opening your eyes. he was already staring into them. fuck. you wanted to be mad at him for not letting you sleep, but you couldn't.

he laughed before sliding his hand under your head, separating you and your soft pillow . you leaned closer to him and he kissed your lips softly.

he pulled away for a moment and you smiled. "come here." you said grabbing his face and brining it to yours, smashing your lips together.

you bit his upper lip and he licked your lower, and soon after his tongue pried your lips apart. he sat you up against the headboard, not separating his lips from yours for a second. he unclasped your bra, taking a tit in his hand.

every second that passed just made the kiss more heated.

your hands slid up and down his body as his tongue explored your mouth. just as your hands made it to his waistband you received a call, to which you ignored.

and then another call came.

and finally a text.

he pulled away, recognizing whoever was trying to reach you probably really needed you, considering the amount of times they had called you.

matt got off of you, letting you recollect and grab your phone.

"fuck." you mumbled

"what?"

"its my best friend. her dog ran away. she wants me to come over and grieve with her. probaly eat ice cream for three hours? i dont know.." you rambled on, shocked at the messages you had just received

"oh shit. you gotta get going then?" he yawned. handing you a previously discarded bra from the night before.

"i guess so." you slipped the bra over your head. "want breakfast before i leave?" you asked him, grabbing a pair of his pajama pants off of the floor and swiftly putting them on.

"i mean, why not?" he got out of the bed slowly ruffling his hair and then standing up.

you walked over to him, giving him a peck on the lips before walking out of the room "meet you downstairs yeah?"

"yeah." he paused, "your not putting a shirt on?" he said loudly, knowing you were far down the hallway by now.

"i mean its just us at home, right?!" you called back.

hearing that he smiled to himself. rushing out of the room and following you down the steps.

- ; time skip - 9:32 am

"matt, im gonna burn the fuckin' eggs if you keep staring at me like that." you shuffled the eggs around in the pan once more before turning around to look at matt, leaning your hands into the counter.

"what am i distracting you?"

"just let me cook your eggs in peace." you smiled.

saying that you turned around, you knew matt wouldn't let you do that.

you felt matts gaze burning into you as you walked over to the fridge to grab orange juice which you set on the counter next to you.

why not take advantage of this?

you opened the freezer and bent down to grab the mini pancakes you knew matt loved.

you arched your back as you stood up and turned around. "you want some of these, babe?" you held up the box of pancakes, waving them in the air.

your boyfriend traced your curves with his eyes. how his pants hung low on your hips, how your bra held your perfect tits.he was getting harder by the second. who gave you permission to do these things to him?

and then, looked up from the floor where he was pretending to stare, blinking and shaking his head before speaking "oh shit- sorry babe what'd ya say?"

"hm." you crossed your arms and leaned against the counter once again, sighing this time. "what am I distracting you now?"

"i gotta use the bathroom, be right back." he said coldly.

you pursed your lips and then shook your head. "you want the pancakes or not?!"

"yeah!" his voice cracked as he ran to the bathroom.

you giggled and turned off the stove. you knew exactly what he was up to.

matt bee-lined for the bed and threw himself on it, tossing most of the pillows to the floor and stuffing the remaining behind his back, before yanking his sweatpants down to his knees. there was no need to drag this out. he had enough foreplay just watching you downstairs, and not to mention the interrupted scene that morning that had been playing through his head for the rest of the time after that.

he grasped his cock firmly from the spot on his stomach where it had lay hard and wet-tipped against his stomach.

he gasped at the contact and let his head fall back, his mouth falling open as he squeezed himself, before letting his cock fall with a slap against heated skin.

with a flat hand, he pulled the moisture from the tip, smearing it down his length, before curling his fingers over his balls, just grazing his fingertips below them.matt ran his tongue over his dry lips, picturing you in the kitchen, remembering how you'd looked with your pajama pants hanging so low that just the slightest tug would pull them off.

he groaned and brought his hand around his dick again, tugging jerkily, frantically, and bent his knees, planting his feet on the bed.He could see you between his legs, one hand on his thigh, the other pleasuring yourself right along with him.

matt screwed his eyes closed and clamped his other hand over his own thigh, breathing hard and fast and stroking even faster.He imagined fucking you over the counter. both of you whimpering as he thrusted roughly into you, one hand gripping your hips roughly, leaving small marks. his other roped around to the front of your body, rubbing your clit.

the muscles in matts’s arms began to burn as he stroked himself but that barely registered, the only thing he could think of, the only thing he could see, was you beneath him.

him plunging into you and hearing your pretty noises.

your face as it twisted with pleasure.

He stroked himself long and hard, inside and out, his breath ragged and heavy and he knew it wouldn’t be long before his releass. he moaned loudy, picturing you against the counter once again. This sent him right over the edge.

with a loud cry of your name, his knees hit his shoulders as his belly strained and his hips thrust up onto his plunging fingers, his body pulsing around them, and quick lines of milky liquid squirted over his hand and the quivering skin of his stomach.

you opened the bedroom door and matts head snapped at the creaking sound it had made.

"huh. well this isnt the bathroom." you teased, making your way towards the bed.

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

[empresskylo]

ೃ⁀➷ call of duty incorrect quotes

⋆｡°✩ all featuring gn!reader insert ⋆｡°✩ AUTHOR'S NOTE | hopefully these aren't cringey lol, i pulled most of them from pinterest. i just thought they'd be fun. let me know if you'd want to see more.

cod masterlist | main masterlist

soap: *bursts into the room, starts panicking* ghost: you: ghost: what happened? soap: no one died you: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER–

gaz: have you heard the joke about the gaslighter? soap: no... gaz: no, you definitely have. soap: no I haven't. gaz: you've literally heard it before. soap: no i haVEN'T gaz: yes you have soap: I DON'T KNOW IT?!? gaz: you're crazy, man. ghost: *hiding his smirk* you: *giggling beside ghost*

soap: I just fell– you: from heaven? soap: no, like I literally just fell– you: in love with me? soap: my fucKING ARM IS BROKEN you: okay, but do you think i'm pretty? be honest.

you: i sleep with a dagger under my pillow. gaz: weak. I sleep with a gun. ghost: you're both pathetic. you: oh?? and what do you sleep with? ghost: soap. you: *spits out drink*

you: what are you, 5? konig [snorts]: yeah, 5 heads taller than you. you: konig: konig: I'm sorry, please don't kill me.

you [on the phone]: uh... price? price [tired]: is the base on fire? you: well...no? price: then it's not an emergency price: *hangs up* gaz: WHAT DID HE SAY? you: he said it's not an emergency. soap [pinned under a cabinet that ghost and alejandro are trying to get off him]: HOW IS THIS NOT AN EMERGENCY

ghost: i invited you into the woods because I crave the most dangerous game. you and soap [both nodding]: knife monopoly. ghost: i was actually going to hunt you for sport but now i'm interested in whatever the fuck knife monopoly is.

ghost: *is carrying all the groceries* you: *holds out a hand to help* ghost: *aggressively moves all the groceries to one hand to hold your hand*

you: can you keep a secret? ghost: do you know anything about my life? you: no, i do not. good point.

[you and ghost texting] you: where are you? ghost: turn around ghost: no the other way ghost: wrong way again you: ghost, where exactly are you?? ghost: at base, but the thought of you turning aimlessly in circles amuses me.

soap: go big or go home! you [tears in your eyes]: i am begging you, soap. for once in your life, go home. please. just this once. go home. ghost: *nods in agreement* soap: i'm going big!

soap: hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers? you: peonies, why? soap: you: were you going to get me flowers? soap: you: soap: it's a possibility...

you: why are you smiling? price: what? can't I just be happy? soap: gaz tripped and fell in the parking lot.

ghost: i wish i could block people in real life. you: restraining order. soap: murder. gaz: jesus fucking chr–

you: so you don't have a thing for anyone at the moment? soap: well... i didn't say that. you: oh. what's she like then? soap: you're just gonna assume they're a 'she'? you: are they– you: are they not a girl? soap: *gay panic*

ghost: i made tea. you: i don't want tea. ghost: i didn't make tea for you. this is my tea. you: then why are you telling me? ghost: it's a conversation starter. soap [looking between you two, confused] you: that's not really a conversation starter. ghost: oh, it isn't? we're conversing, aren't we? checkmate. you [scoffing]: well it's a lousy one then. ghost: never said it wasn't. you: *looking at soap* soap: *looking at you*

price: what does 'take out' mean? alejandro: food. gaz: dating. soap: murder. you: it can mean all three if you're not a coward. ghost: soap: gaz: price: you: what?

ghost: look, i know you think my judgment is clouded because i like soap a little bit. you [holding ghost's notepad]: you doodled your wedding invitations. ghost: no, that's our joint tombstone. you: oh, right, my mistake.

konig: hello, welcome to our first debrief. konig: today we're talking about... you [whispering]: building loyalty. konig: killing royalty. you [under your breath]: oh my god.

ghost: i am a very bad person. very very bad person. i am a horrible person. soap: you: gaz: ghost: "no you're not, ghost! we still love you, ghost!"

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2. part 2

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

PT-1 w/Charles, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, George, Lewis, Lance & Fernando

Max

You had just gotten off the phone with your mother, so obviously tears were stinging your eyes and the urge to punch a wall was getting stronger by the minute. Unfortunately, you weren't the only one dealing with less-than-loving parents.

"But that's not fair, no one's perfect, I've won five out of eight races," He yelled into the phone to a louder voice responding from the other end. Max looked defeated, with red under his eyes and hair sticking up where he dragged his hands through it.

"No, I didn't fucking let them win, it's their job too," he stood right by the door, slamming it behind him, "Whatever, bye," he cut the call, standing still for a few seconds, glaring at his phone, knowing him debating between throwing it at a wall or stomping on it.

"Wanna nap?" You asked him, setting your phone on the coffee table and letting yourself fall face first on to the hotel bed. Max followed suit, one arm over your waist.

“Damn, can you imagine if we swapped places as kids?” You thought out loud as sleep neared making Max scoff.

He turned to you and in a dead serious tone replied, “Y/n/n, you’d be a serial killer and I’d probably be in jail, now let me sleep, you’re warm,” The man’s response was screech worthy, making you want to smack him but for once, he was right, you were very warm and cuddly and so was he, a fight could wait, sleep was now.

Logan

“LOGAN!” You screamed, knocking on his hotel room door, hoping the man would hurry to answer.

You couldn’t believe the man had launched an entire app without even giving you a hint! You were so proud of him and you couldn’t wait to celebrate. You waited to see his smiling face, knowing you were going to shower him with praises and way too many hugs but when he opened the door, his demeanour was nothing like you had expected.

“Dude didn’t you just launch an app? Why the no good sad face?” You asked as you walked in past him.

He sighed as he sat on his bed, working away at his laptop and a hundred pages spread out. You couldn’t help but frown.

“Logan, Logan,” you called out, ultimately pulling the boys head to face yours, “what the fuck mate, you should be happy right now, what’s wrong?” You asked, disturbed that your happy go lucky, it is what it is friend was so sullen.

“The cars fucked, I have no future, my team fucking hates me, my best and only friend literally never talks to me and I feel like a fucking failure,” he went of on you, slamming his laptop shut making you flinch.

You stared unimpressed at his little charade to keep you away, unfortunately you had grown up with the man and knew his tantrums and breakdowns, “First of all, your only friend? What am I chopped liver? Secondly, James Vowles can fuck off for all I care, you deserve so much better then that ratchet ass team, thirdly you just launch your own app, need I go on?” You presented embodying your inner George Russell as you picked Logan’s laptop and papers off his bed.

“But still-” his face was still down and he continued to doubt himself.

“Look,” you say next to him, holding his hand in yours, “it’s been a tough few years, not gonna lie, but you’re going to pull through cause you are one of the most talented people I know,” you squeezed his hand, “also you can’t give up because you promised you’d get rich and pay for everything.” You shrugged and pulled him to lay on the bed.

He huffed, smacking a pillow on your face, “so that’s why you’re friends with me? Not my dazzling personality? How could you? This is a betrayal, I’m betrayed,” he joked, finally getting back to his normal self, but you were still worried about him.

You turned to the man enveloping him in your arms, the man immediately returning the favour immediately. You let yourself fall into a comfortable sleep, telling yourself to do this more often.

Daniel

“Hey, are you busy?” Daniel had said softly as he entered your room immediately raising red flags in your mind, never once hand the man been so quiet. You quickly put away your stuff on the night stand patting the spot on the bed next to you to let him sit.

“Yeah, is everything okay? You look tired, Danny,” you asked to nothing but silence from the man. A few seconds passed and you could see how wet his eyes were.

“Dan-”

“I’m so tired y/n/n,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, scaring you, what did he mean by that? “I’m just, I can’t, I’m doing everything I can and it isn’t enough, I- I,” he tried speaking but he couldn’t without choking.

You tired not to cry with him, the only man you’d always known to be laughing and happy even in the worst of circumstances, keeping everyone’s spirits up was sitting here in front of you, so hopeless.

You didn’t think twice before pulling him in a hug, cradling him as you both sank into a laying position. “You’re tired, mate, let’s take a nap, it’ll be okay Danny, I promise, it’s going to be fine,” you whispered into his hair making him nod.

You felt him drift off as the tears slowed down and you couldn’t help passing out in the warmth either knowing when you wake up you’d find a way to make the man himself again.

Yuki

“Can I please marry you?” You begged for what seemed the tenth time that day much to Yuki’s irritation.

“I am never cooking for you ever again,” he complained falling onto the sofa next to you, watching the sitcom tv rather than paying attention to you.

“Please, you know you loved the tiramisu I made,” you boasted, opening up a button on your shirt to allow you to breath. The amount of food you and Yuki had consumed for individuals of your sizes were seriously guiness worthy.

He whined knowing you had won that argument, “fine but I want the recipe as a wedding gift,” he joked making the both of you laugh.

“Dude I’m ready to go into a food coma for the next ten fucking years,” you confessed, making the man nod in agreement.

“I’ve eaten enough for the next damn week.”

“We should nap,” you spoke out loud, turning to the man next to you, “wanna nap?”

“Yup,” he immediately answered to which you both pounced on either ends of the sofa, shifting into comfortable positions, making sure neither was kicking the other, his legs on the coffee table pulled close to the sofa and yours curled up closed to you.

Pierre

“Fuck me,” you groaned as another one of your projects fell through. You threw your phone on the table in front of you, sighing as you did.

“Do mind if I do,” joked an irritating grating voice from behind you, from your bed, you had honestly forgotten your friend had been there after another pissy fight with his sweetheart teammate.

“Keep talking Gasly, I’ll call Ocon over make it a threesome,” you laughed as you joined him, pushing him to one side to make space.

The man looked honestly disgusted, “I can’t believe you’d stoop low enough to even joke about that, standards babe, standards,” he scoffed looking at you judgementally to which you rolled your eyes.

“Damn I guess we won’t be making love, sad, I was actually going to agree for once, I’ll just ask Estie then” you fake sighed, feigning disappointment, much to the other man’s horror.

“Shut up, Y/n,” he knocked your shoulder with his after he saw your grin, fighting a yawn as you pushed him back.

“Do you wanna nap?” You asked, equally tired and dejected about your failed project, he nodded and pulled the both of you into a more comfortable position, turning in to face you, burying his face in your neck and you let your hand play with his silky blonde locks, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Esteban

“BITCH, YOU WILL NOT BELIVE THE SHIT I’VE JUST SEEN-” you yelled as you ran into Esteban’s driver room, seeing him lying on the makeshift bed.

You immediately jumped in next to him, waking him up in a startle, “MERDE! Y/n?” He yelled in fear and then confusion, looking around as if a swat team had burst in, “what is wrong with you?” He screeched as he pulled his hands over his face in exhaustion, “you’re a worse gossip than Pierre,” he grunted lying back down.

You animatedly threw yourself down next to him, using his arm as a pillow. “I abhor that accusation, actually,” you grumbled but gave in nonetheless, “okay so look at this photo and tell me what you see,” you showed his your phone, a photo you’d gotten out of a greedy paparazzi’s hand as a media control agent in Mercedes.

The man next to you suddenly seemed much more awake, “Is that Nico fucking Rosberg?” He whisper- yelled into your ears, snatching the phone out your hands.

“Yup,” you grinned popping the p, “bought that shit for eleven thousand dollars,” he whistled, “that was taken at 4 am at Lewis’s hotel,” you whispered, turning your body to face his.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “I thought these were rumours?” He asked gleefully.

“Nope, this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to do damage control,” you sighed, trying to get your phone back but it was pulled away by the taller man.

“You mean there’s gossip you haven’t told me? Your best friend, whose room you’re currently hiding in? Interrupting my nap time?”

“You, Estie, are such a drama queen,” you teased him, pulling your phone out of his hand. “And we can definitely nap, I spent all night trying to convince that asshole to drop the story,” you kept you phone in your pocket as Esteban made himself comfortable, both of you letting yourselves rest after the tiring day you had.

Zhou

“How are you not broke?” The man yelled in astonishment as he saw at the amount of bags in the Prada assistants hands, choosing to ignore his own in another’s, he was allowed to spend he technically was a millionaire, even without his family and sponsors.

You looked at him with raised brows as you opened the doors your apartment building, you and Zhou both owning the penthouses, yours above his.

You let the men drop the bags off on your floor, keeping Zhou waiting, making him annoyed to your amusement. When the men finally left you simply answered, “Samsung shares.”

Zhou groaned “Spoilt child,” and headed into the guest suite as you headed into your room, “look whose talking I have my own assistant at the mall,” you called out behind you. That had been funny, the man followed Zhou to every shop, holding the bags you both collected till you needed another.

You both walked out and showed each other the clothes and accessories you had bought, occasionally swapping one or two. As the day progressed into late evening you called for food, tired from the little fashion show you had.

“I need a nap,” you groaned, folding your feet as you sat on the dinning table chair.

“My legs are killing me,” Zhou agreed, not only had he had a terrible work out in the morning but you both had covered way more than 10,000 steps in that mall.

“Want to nap?” You offered, knowing very well he could just go a floor below to his own home.

“Sure, turn on screen mirroring on your tv, I’ll show you the drivers chat,” he said heading into your room and you ran behind him with glee.

The gossip was the best part of being friends with Zhou, that and the really warm cuddles he gave, “oh my god, Charles and Max again?” You laughed and leaned on his shoulders as he relayed all the details to you, his voice slowly softening as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 006 ! first time for everything

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note no update yesterday (sorryyy) bc i decided to actually take a break! ps wc is 1.7k.. i got a little carried away😭

previous <> masterlist <> next

after giving riki your number less than 24 hours ago, he wasted no time to use it. you knew that he would eventually text or call you, it just wasn’t expected to be so soon.

so you were not expecting to wake up from a text from him.

you somewhat screamed out loud, dropping your phone on the floor. but as soon as danielle came rushing in from the other bedroom, your clarity hit.

the clock next to your bed read 4:59 am. you realized, it was the middle of the night. everyone was sleeping, until you woke up the people who were now in front of you.

“what? what is it?” danielle sat on your bed with hyein following soon after.

as she moved to lay down beside you, hyein stared at the other two girls who you shared a room with. minji and haerin were still fast asleep, having been used to your habit of being loud at the slightest inconvenience. especially since you were known to wake up in the middle of the night.

“he texted me at two in the morning, and i didn’t see till now!” you squealed.

danielle groaned in annoyance. “oh come on y/n! i almost actually slept good knowing we had no schedule today. now i’ll never be able to go back to sleep!”

hyein ignored her, turning her attention to you. she lifted her head up from your pillow before taking your phone.

“if your crush texted you in the middle of the night, you’d be the exact same way.” she squinted at danielle. “too bad i don’t like anyone then.”

they both read the text from riki, examining it.

“what the fuck? you woke us up for a ‘hey’?” hyein’s mood changed as she read the message out loud.

“well i didn’t open it! i just saw the notification..” you whined.

“wait! what? look, it says he’s texting right now!” danielle pointed her finger to your phone as the bubble appeared, which indicated he was in fact typing.

‘u busy today?’

“what are you gonna say? why is he even awake right now?”

“i bet he detected that she read it. like some spiderman tingle. that’s his.. ni-ki senses.” hyein stifled a laugh.

“shut up! give me my phone.”

you smiled at the texts, before turning the phone off and tucking it under your pillow. you pulled up your blanket from the edge of the bed, but it didn’t move, feeling unusually heavy.

at the end of the mattress, laid hyein and danielle. they had fallen fast asleep throughout the duration of your conversation.

on a typical day, you would be annoyed. but today was no average morning. you had yourself a date with nishimura riki.

you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the fact that you had to sleep with no blanket. you still slept well, looking forward to what your evening will bring.

“where are you going all dressed up?” haerin sat down next to you on the couch, as she gestured to your outfit. it was nothing too special, just a tube top and some baggy cargos.

“she has a date with nishimura riki!” hyein chimed in from the kitchen.

“what?!” hanni, haerin, and minji exclaimed in unison.

“yeah, it happened this morning. but you guys were sleeping.” you shrugged, before leaning down to tie your shoes (which danielle so kindly picked out and handed to you).

“is he picking you up?” hanni questioned, suddenly intrigued.

“yes, he should be here.. around now, actually.”

as if right on cue, riki was knocking on the door of your shared dorm.

“i got it!” minji rushed as she beat danielle to the entrance.

she opened the door, which behind it, revealed your knight in shining armor. or in his case, a hoodie layered with a bomber jacket and cargo pants. but it was good enough for you. he looked good in anything he wore.

“y/n isn’t home. better luck next time.” haerin came up to him, pushing minji out the way. she began to slowly close the door, only for riki to hold it open.

“seriously haerin?” hyein scoffed. “if you actually locked him out, y/n would be so pissed.” “i was kidding! everyone knows he’s untouchable here anyway. it’s obvious that if anyone even breathes in the direction of her boyfriend-”

she slapped a hand over haerin’s mouth, pulling her away from the doorway and switching places with her.

“sorry about that. y/n’s just grabbing her phone from upstairs. you wanna come in? i think- woah, did you guys plan this?” hyein paused as you walked towards her. she examined your outfit, and then riki’s. you realized, you were basically matching with the same color scheme. even the same cargos.

“hey. you look good.” he smiled as you stood next to him. you pulled him into a hug before pecking his cheek, just like yesterday.

almost as if it was a natural instinct, he wrapped an arm around your waist to secure you beside him.

riki spoke up once more to answer your roommates question. “not at all actually, i guess we kinda matched by pure coincidence. but uh, y/n, we really should get going? it’s almost like, an hour long drive.”

as soon as those words left his mouth, danielle came up to you both from the kitchen. she disregarded hyein, gesturing for her to leave.

“get y/n home by 10, no later then. don’t get caught, or be recognized.” she paused, as she pointed her gaze towards his hand which now held onto your hip. “and absolutely no dating scandals.” danielle poked her finger at his chest to emphasize the last sentence, not caring about the fact that riki towered over her.

“home before 10, don’t be spotted, and don’t cause a dating scandal. got it. thanks dani.” he smiled, before leaving your dorm to take you to his car.

“next in line please.” the cashier called out in a bored and monotone voice. but as you two approached the counter, her face lit up.

you were almost certain she recognized you or riki when she began to whisper to the barista. but she had no reaction as she asked for your order. you second guessed yourself, as the cashiers tired expression returned once more.

“ladies first. what will you have?” riki asked.

“could i order the strawberry matcha latte, and the chocolate croissant?” you spoke, watching as she took your order.

“and for you?” the cashier questioned, gesturing towards riki.

“i’ll have what she’s having.”

“two strawberry matcha lattes and two chocolate croissants. your total is ₩32,000. just insert your card here.”

he did indeed pay for the food. but, neither of you noticed how when the receipt printed, the cashier tucked it into her pocket instead of giving it to you.

“do you like the drink?” you asked riki, as he took a sip from his cup. “it’s really good. good thing we came here, i’ve never tried something so simple but, it’s delicious. you didn’t try it yet?.”

“i’ve been eating the croissant the whole time! okay, here. see?” you paused, placing down the chocolate croissant to sip the drink out of spite. you thought riki was exaggerating, but you didn’t expect it to be even better than he described.

he chuckled as he watched your face light up. “see? it really is good, isn’t it? nice choice.”

the two of you had been out for hours, even as the cafe closed. but there was nowhere else to go that was private, so riki just settled to take you home.

you were both sat in riki’s car, parked in the underground garage of the condos where you both lived. riki had his head resting on your shoulder as you scrolled through your phones, randomly showing each other random tiktoks you thought were funny.

it was a small yet intimate moment, you cherished it. you both were having so much fun, you almost forgot being an idol was part of your everyday lives. with you, riki felt free. he was able to forget the pressures of his job. and you felt the exact same way.

neither of you noticed it was already a little past 10.

“shit. riki, we have to go. it’s already 10:25.” you exclaimed, suddenly hyper-focusing on the time on your phone.

“i’ll walk you to your dorm.” he smiled.

and so you stood in front of your door, but you weren’t ready to go in. and he wasn’t ready to leave you yet.

“i had a good time.” you said, bringing your hands up to hold onto his shoulders. “we should go out again.”

“i wouldn’t mind.” riki mumbled, before bringing his face down to meet yours, connecting your lips in one quick movement.

your breath hitched when you felt him deepen the kiss, as he brought a hand up to softly stroke your cheek.

slowly, he pulled away. but not far, as he rested his forehead against yours.

you smiled at him, leaning forward to peck his lips once more.

“thank you for today.” he whispered, pulling away entirely so he could clearly see you. “goodnight riki.” you lightly chuckled, thinking back to your texts from earlier.

“goodnight y/n.”

but as he was about to leave, the front door of your dorm is pulled open. the two of you were met with the angry faces of minji, danielle, and haerin. “get inside here! and you too riki.” exclaimed minji, as she dragged you both into the living room.

as soon as you both are pushed to sit onto the couch, you scrambled to explain yourselves. “i know we’re late, but we just last track of time. dani, we-”

“it’s not about that! look at this.” she interrupted, pulling out her phone to hand it to you.

“riki, did you just choose to throw the three rules out the window? those are three things you can never ignore especially as an idol.” minji groaned, rubbing her forehead.

“okay, yes, we missed curfew. but we weren’t recognized or anything.” he said, confused.

“riki..?” you called out. your hands began to shake as you showed him what was displayed on danielle’s phone.

riki had never been so shocked.

“you two should’ve been more careful.”

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @chaevibes @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona @aeminju @hoonics @catecita @clampclover @rei4sunoo @addictedtohobi @rikidaze @baekxo07 @xotyla @melancholy-z @rikisgeef @jung1w0n @tocupid @onlyseung @i03jae @iheartshopping @istphanie @queenriki7 @academiq @1117promises @nctislifue @haechansbbg @rairaiblog @nabia-bia @pkjay @lixiebokie @hiekoo @r1kizerr @d-dilemma @kingofthekards @iilwji @hoonatic @woorcve @enhaz1