#a message from your prof

[august--and-everything-after]

I hate apartment hunting!

Cheers, thanks. 'Preciate it.

[horsemage]

just took some delightful midnight adderall so I can finish my finals week shit before it's due in. uh. 11 hours, 1 minute. and I'm thinking about how my advisor keeps shit talking theoreticians and computational astrophysicists but in the politest, most british ways possible

[daughterofhecata]

.

[ddarker-dreams]

Mutual Destruction.

Yan Anaxagoras x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, teacher-student dynamics (anaxa's your prof), power imbalance, drugging (anaxa slips you an aphrodisiac), allusions to fearing pregnancy, not SFW, heavily dubious consent. Word count: 5k.

Earlier, you discovered an inconspicuous note within your belongings. The following message was inked inside: 

Meet me in my private quarters at the Curtain-Fall Hour’s first quint. Tardiness is unacceptable. 

There was no signature to indicate who left it. The paper was of fine quality, you doubt your fellow students had any of this caliber in their possession. They’d be remiss to tear and treat it roughly if they did. The presumptuous command served as your best hint. Only one person in the Grove spoke to you that way — Anaxa. Normally, you’d recognize his neat script, but this was scrawled, nearly illegible.

Ever since then, dread has followed you like a ghost haunting the living. 

The note’s vague nature dredged up the worst your brain could offer. You’re always doing what you can to keep your capricious professor placated, but this doesn’t bode well. You can’t recall doing anything to earn his misplaced ire. In public, you keep to yourself, engaging in the bare minimum amount of socialization necessary to continue your studies. He’s never raised an issue with this conduct before, aside from some dry remarks.

It’s possible — though unlikely — that you’re overthinking matters. Perhaps he was in a hurry and failed to consider how you’d interpret the abstract order. As much as you wish this were the case, Anaxa isn’t the type to act without a distinct purpose. He’s meticulous in any endeavor he undertakes, especially when you’re involved. 

Nightfall brings a hush over the Grove. Beneath Cerces’ solemn gaze, scholars scorn twilight’s intended purpose, continuing their work against their circadian rhythm’s wishes. No one pays you any mind as you skitter about. Before long, you’re navigating the hallway that leads to Anaxa’s chambers. Every step closer elevates your heart rate. You’ve been so preoccupied with determining your potential transgression that you’ve neglected to craft an approach. 

Should you claim ignorance? Beseech his favor? Form a hill worth dying on with careful rhetoric? 

Your knuckles hover above the door. 

You feel woefully underprepared, like you’re walking into a test you did none of the reading for. Is it too late to retreat? Bide your time, returning when the playing field has evened? If only. You deride yourself for entertaining such naïveté. You have to address this now, before the wound festers, necessitating amputation. You’re still on time. This has to be salvageable, Anaxa’s too sweet on you to set you up for total failure… 

… Right? 

Complex mechanisms whirr into action, opening the door without your prompting. Startled by the spontaneity, you remain immobile as if you’d been turned to stone. 

“Come in,” The beast brooding in his lair invites. “Dawdle any longer and I’ll consider you late.” 

You do as you’re bid. As a Sage, Anaxa’s quarters are spacious and far larger than your meager dorm. This room consists of a living space and kitchenette, with what you assume to be his bedroom separated by a closed door. There are more implements of his craft scattered about than any personal touches. A massive bookshelf catches your attention. Scanning the spines, you barely recognize any of the works in his collection. 

“Please sit,” he motions toward his dining room table. It has two chairs facing opposite each other. The one furthest away is askew, indicating he must’ve been sitting there until recently. 

Anaxa remains standing while you take your seat. Compared to usual, he’s dressed down, his black and teal overcoat noticeably absent. This leaves him in a white collared button-up and dark pants. He’s still wearing that mysterious eyepatch, with golden runes decipherable only to him. They share similar characteristics with the markings inked into his left arm. You’re certain he’d explain their origin if you asked, but caution tempers your curiosity. 

You flinch when your name rolls off his tongue, a reaction he easily picks up on. 

“You needn’t look so frightened,” he says. “Unless, of course, you have a guilty conscience.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Good, good… because, as I’m sure you’re aware, I’m bound to find out any mischief you get up to.” 

For all the weight it carries, he enunciates the word lightly, almost playfully. You swallow the saliva rapidly accumulating in your mouth. With great effort, you meet his gaze, which betrays nothing of his inner thoughts. 

“I’ve been acting how I should, have I not?”

“Mm. So you have.” 

He suddenly seems uninterested in the subject, despite being the one to initiate it. He walks over to his stove, where an intricate teapot sits. He pours it into matching teacups. Then, grabbing the saucers they sit on, he carries them both over to the table, sitting one in front of you and keeping the other for himself. Plumes of smoke rise from the mixture. It has a sweet, earthy aroma. You’ve brewed this for him at his behest in the past.  

Your distorted reflection ripples along the liquid’s surface, showcasing your visible apprehension. 

“Isn’t this caffeinated, professor? Won’t it keep me up all night?”

His lips curl into an odd smile. “In a way.” 

“Then—” 

“Drink,” he interrupts, the command slicing through the air. Then, remembering himself, he softens his voice. “I put a great deal of effort into brewing this. See to it that none is wasted.” 

You swear he fixates on the stretch of your throat as you reluctantly swallow. 

“Now. Regarding why I’ve called you here…” 

Contrary to your expectations, Anaxa begins outlining a project he’d like your assistance with. You keep expecting the details to escalate, but it sounds perfectly mundane. There’s nothing scandalous that justifies the secrecy he shrouded this meeting in. You’ve helped him with research that could’ve seen you expelled from the Grove in the past, this topic is a far cry from those escapades. He wants you to collect material about folktales from the fallen city-state, Styxia. That’s nothing compared to your last undertaking, which saw you setting a priceless Janusopolis relic aflame to use its ashes in an alchemical ritual.

You don’t understand why this couldn’t wait until the following day, but you keep that to yourself. While he explains the methodology you should use, you can’t stop yourself from shifting in your seat. An onset of restlessness overwhelms you. Regardless of how you readjust yourself, you can’t get comfortable. This grows worse as you cross and uncross your legs, the simple motion lighting a fire inside your belly. You cough into your head to cover up the strange, strangled noise that threatens to leave your lips. 

Anaxa raises an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?” 

“Y-Yes. Please continue.” 

His words grow difficult to follow, although the subject isn’t particularly complex. To make matters worse, he’s begun tracing his teacup’s rim with his fingertip, a motion that inspires strange fervor. Your eyes follow the slow, deliberate movement as if under a spell. You never noticed how long and slender his fingers are. You’ve personally witnessed his dexterity, you wonder what it’d be like if he slid them inside you— 

What are you thinking? This is the man responsible for manipulating your time here at the Grove. He’s cut off your access to other academics, forcing you to rely on him and no one else. While his brilliance is unmatched, the knowledge he’s imparted doesn’t excuse the despotism he’s subjected you to. You can’t even enjoy lighthearted conversations with your classmates, owing to the looming shadow he’s cast.

And yet… 

There’s no denying he’s an attractive man. If the circumstances were different, you would’ve been flattered by his interest in you. The dim, flickering candlelight highlights his handsome features, from his full lips to his defined jawline. He must sense the intensity behind your stare, for he goes quiet, steepling his fingers together and studying you. 

“Potent, isn’t it?” he hums, evidently pleased with himself. 

You blink sluggishly. “What?” 

“The tincture you ingested,” he nods to your empty teacup. “I didn’t think you’d drink it all. I’m curious to see how a larger dose will affect you.” 

Huh? 

“What… what are you talking about? What did you do?” 

“You’re a clever girl. You’re bound to put two and two together eventually.” 

Anaxa stands from his seat and approaches. He lifts your chin with his thumb, paying close attention to how your breath hitches at his touch. A manic grin spreads across his face. You know this expression, it’s the one he gets when he’s made a discovery that would shake the world to its very foundation. 

The triumph of a blasphemer.

“Alcohol?” you murmur, furrowing your eyebrows together. 

“Not a depressant — a stimulant,” he corrects. The pad of his thumb rubs over your lower lip. “Though, I suppose I can forgive your erroneous conclusion, given your current… affliction.”

The low purr of his voice has you subconsciously rubbing your thighs together. If possible, his smile widens, almost splitting his face in two. You can’t think straight. The revelation instills revulsion in you, yet any negative emotions are swallowed whole by lust. It takes everything you have not to pounce on him like an animal in heat. You take deep breaths, doing what you can to restrain your desire from boiling over. 

“Why?” 

“Why, indeed?” Anaxa murmurs. When he retracts his hand, you can’t stop your shoulders from drooping in disappointment. He chuckles darkly. “I had an enlightening talk with one of your other professors.” 

The thinly concealed disdain in his tone promises nothing good. 

“I’m not usually one to dwell on the past, but our chat evoked some nostalgia.”

He circles behind you, his hands settling on your shoulders. Then, he massages your stiff muscles, eliciting a sigh from you. It feels nice. He’s applying just the right amount of pressure, kneading out all the tension. You can’t muster up any aversion to his touch. If anything, this light pampering isn’t nearly enough. 

“He commented on your eagerness to participate in discussion,” his voice is a soft yet sinister whisper, “How insatiable your thirst for knowledge is.” 

Anaxa pauses his soothing ministrations. He entangles his hand in your hair, tugging it to the side so that you’re made to stare into unbridled madness.

“My prized pupil… were you not that way with me once? So desperate to please, so ecstatic when I lavished you with my attention?” 

He pulls you up by your shoulders with surprising strength. The abruptness disturbs your balance, forcing you to fall into him, who is more than happy to hold you. Your mind feels like it’s fraying at the seams. You want to refute his point, but you can’t form a cohesive counterargument. Everything is fragmented, shattered into pieces that, in any other circumstance, you could build a bulwark with. Whatever you consumed has annihilated your defenses from within. You don’t think you could even stand without his assistance. 

“You’ve turned cold. Now, you can’t wait until you can get rid of me.” 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice to form a competent rebuttal. 

“No?” There’s a mocking lilt to his upward inflection. Instead of experiencing offence, his patronizing tone has your breathing growing heavier. “Prove me wrong, then.”

Your lips meet in a frantic kiss. 

He tastes like tea and honey, the sweetness unbecoming of such a bitter man. You fasten your arms around his neck, wanting to regain some control by asserting yourself. At least he can’t form reprimands when you’re sucking on his tongue. The illusion of dominance is short-lived. He spins you around, pinning your back against the wall with his weight. 

You grunt at the unexpected collision. He pulls back, breaking the trail of saliva connecting your lips. 

“Are you alright?” 

His genuine sounding concern hurts more than any of the nonsense he’s spewed so far. Tears sting the corners of your eyes, and you grit your teeth, unwilling to expose any more vulnerability. He’s okay with drugging and manipulating you, yet this is where he draws the line? A little pain? 

“Like you care,” you hiss out.

“I do,” he replies, unusually gentle. “To me, you’re—” 

His eye widens as you palm him through his pants, putting an end to the confession you’d rather die than hear. There’s no way you’re letting him finish that sentence. If he can delude himself, you deserve the same willful ignorance. You don’t want to know that this extends far past lechery. While no less dubious, there have always been stories of those in authority lusting after their subordinates. That fits a comprehensible framework. What you find truly unsettling is the possibility that this won’t stop at carnality — it’ll metastasize like a malignant tumor. 

Afraid he might return to his thought, you slip your hand past his waistband, fumbling around until you find what you’re looking for. Despite the awkward angle, you envelop him, smearing the copious amounts of precum along his length. He’s hot and hard in your palm. Once he’s sufficiently lubricated, you pump his length. There’s satisfaction to be found in how your initiative renders a master orator speechless. 

Anaxa nestles himself into your neck, muffling his pants against your skin. You grip him tight, almost painfully so, taking out your frustration by pleasuring him as roughly as he’ll allow. He thrusts himself into your hand, unashamedly chasing his pleasure. 

Much to your amazement, you feel his cock twitching in your hand, hinting that he’s nearing his end. That didn’t take long. No more than a few minutes, if you had to guess. How debauched is this man for you, anyway? 

Against your better judgment, you decide to tease him. “So soon, professor? I guess you are past your prime. If you can’t take care of me, I guess I’ll have to find some younger, more virile—” 

“Insolent brat,” he snaps. He snatches your wrist and pulls you away before you can finish him off. “It’s virility you want, then?” 

Anaxa scoops you up, further calling into question his self-proclaimed epithet of ‘frail scholar.’ You suppress a yelp, clinging to him out of necessity. He kicks open the door to his bedroom and carries you in. It’s dark inside, save for slivers of silvery moonlight peaking through his curtains. Once he lays you down on his mattress, he detaches himself, glowering down at you as he unbuttons his top. 

He makes quick work of the garment, chucking it off to the side. You take in the sight of his lean, well-sculpted form. That would explain the ease with which he picked you up. You suppose that for all his claims of frailty, he’s still a Chrysos Heir. No one can say fate doesn’t have a sense of humor, selecting a blasphemer to succeed the gods. He certainly looks the part. Long, soft hair, unblemished skin; even the way he moves is worthy of veneration. He’s never in a rush, always operating at his own tempo. It’s the rest of the world that must match his rhythm. 

Anaxa meets your stare, amusement glinting in his eye. “Have you forgotten how to blink?” 

You don’t get a chance to reply before he’s hovering above you, his red, dangling earring glinting in the sparse light. 

“Still clothed?” He clicks his tongue. “I have to do everything when it comes to you.” 

He tugs your blouse over your head hard enough that you hear something rip. 

“Hey—” 

He shushes you, pressing his pointer finger against your lip. “Settle down. You won’t be needing it; you’re not leaving this room anytime soon.” 

Next, he helps you out of your pants, leaving you fully exposed. The sight forces him to stop. Your collarbones, cleavage, abdomen, and plump thighs; he drinks you in like you’re a fine wine. His fingers twitch by his side, the impact you have on him tangible. He must not know where to start.

“...You’ll be my ruin,” he mutters.

You don’t get to ask what he means by that. He presses his palm against your stomach, encouraging you to lie down. Then, he spreads your legs, examining the impact his concoction had. Using his pointer and middle finger, he feels you through your panties and hums. You feel him gauging your reaction as he rubs up and down, torturously slow. Your face burns at the squelching noises produced by such a simple motion. Eventually, he focuses on your clit, delighting in the reactions it draws out. He alternates his speed, always slowing whenever you seem to be enjoying yourself too much. 

“Professor, please,” you beg, discarding your pride in favor of relief. “Just fuck me already. I can’t take it anymore.” 

He ignores your pleas, too focused on dragging your panties down. He brings the flimsy fabric to his nose and inhales, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Now there’s the eagerness I remember. A shame it required slightly underhanded methods to extract, but you’ve always been a stubborn one.” 

Slightly underhanded? If your cognition wasn’t reduced to mush, you would’ve ripped into him. 

After tucking your panties into his pants pocket, he nestles himself between your thighs. He nibbles and sucks the sensitive skin, yet neglects your aching core. It’s pure agony. You try grinding against his face, but he holds you down and tuts. 

“After all the time you’ve made me wait, you can’t endure a few moments?” he sighs. “Mm. I can’t say I dislike this needy side of you.” 

He flattens his tongue against your pussy, licking it vertically. Your hands fly to his head, where your fingers tug at his hair. He grunts, but doesn’t stop you, too preoccupied with his task. Depraved noises fill the air as he eats you out. He forces your legs further apart, granting him complete access to you. When he sucks on your clit, the moans you had hitherto managed to suppress flow out. You hear him chuckling over his success. He’s relentless, devouring you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

You’re close. You don’t want to tell him, fearing he’ll stop right before your pleasure reaches its zenith. Unfortunately, Anaxa’s far too observant. He pulls away, but not without placing a few more greedy kisses against your pussy. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, snickering at your visible frustration. 

“I hate you,” is the best you can offer. 

“Oh, I can tell,” Anaxa replies. He lathers his fingers in your slick, gradually easing them inside, meeting no resistance as he does so. “That must explain why your body is sucking me in.” 

He fingers you at a leisurely pace, committing to memory how he slips in and out of you. It feels as good as you fantasized earlier. His fingers are longer than yours, so they can reach deeper, creating a pleasant friction. Still, without your clit being stimulated, you could be here for a while. Something tells you that’s intentional. Unlike you, he’s in no hurry. He’d gladly spend hours between your thighs, playing with your body to his heart’s content. You don’t want to draw this out. You want to get fucked and have this terrible need alleviated.

“Professor?” 

“Hm?” 

“Won’t you please take care of me already?” You ask, loathing yourself for how easily the words come out. “I feel so strange. I-I don’t know what to do.” 

“An aphrodisiac will do that, darling girl.” 

So that’s what you ingested? You’ve heard of the concept, but you always thought it was confined to fantasy. If anyone could synthesize such a drug, it would be him. Frowning, you try to touch your clit, hoping that will bring you the release he’s keen on denying. He slaps your hand away and stops thrusting his fingers. 

“This is nothing compared to the torment I’ve experienced,” he brings his slick covered fingers to his mouth and sucks. You gawk at him as he savors your taste, your face burning. Once satisfied, he pulls them out with a pop. “So cease your whining. It won’t move me.” 

Sensing this exchange could go on forever, you opt for a new approach. “Anaxagoras, don’t you want to make me yours?” 

You hear his breath hitch when his full name leaves your lips. Encouraged, you prop yourself up on your elbows, undo your bra clasp, and fling it into a shadowy corner. Even in the low light, you note the crimson flush overtaking his features. You play with your tits, staring up at him through your eyelashes, almost pouting. He swallows thickly. You take your nipples in between your thumb and pointer fingers, twisting the pebbled nubs. 

He looks like he’s in pain from how hard he’s holding himself back. 

You need to seize this opportunity before he decides to lecture you for hours on end. Knowing him, it’s possible. 

“Please?” 

Anaxa curses beneath his breath. “Little vixen.” 

He pulls his length out, pumping the engorged flesh to the sight of your bare body. White pearls of precum seep from the tip. With one hand, he rubs the head along your opening, while the other holds your hip in place. Gradually, he pushes himself in, silently eyeing you as he does so. When you let out a pained noise, he stops. His thumb rubs reassuring circles against your skin. You turn your head away, frightened by the reverence etched into his visage. Why can’t he just get this over with? Why is he so intent on ensuring your physical comfort after wreaking havoc on your mind? 

“Deep breaths,” he instructs, as if this were any other lesson. “That’s it. Good girl.”

Anaxa presses his forehead against yours as he fills you to the hilt, his lips parting in an ‘o’. For a moment, you both just stay there, the sounds of your panting filling the air. He brushes his knuckles over your cheek, the skin around his eye softening. The intensity behind his stare bores into you. You frown and look away.

Don’t look at me like that, you think. Stop trying to make this something it isn’t.

He pulls himself out, your walls clenching around nothing in his absence. Then, eases himself back in, moaning your name as he does so. You feel his length pulsating inside you, heavy with want from his ruined orgasm. He takes you slowly, as if this were your wedding night. He caresses you all over, greedily exploring your body. When he settles on your tits, he fondles the soft flesh, swooping down to take a nipple in his mouth. You whimper as he lolls his tongue around it, before switching to the next and repeating the process all over again.

Despite how hot your body feels, you shiver. 

His lips glisten with saliva when he pulls back, contentment evident in his countenance. "Touch yourself for me, dear girl."

You do as he says and rub circles into your clit. Finally, he throws your leg over his shoulder and fucks you. What started as an uncomfortable stretch shifts into a deep, all-consuming pleasure. With each snap of his hips, you whimper a confused mix of vowels and consonants that somewhat resemble his name. This makes him lose what little restraint he had remaining. He pounds you into the bed, pulling your hips down to meet each thrust. 

“Fuck,” he rasps. You’ve never heard him curse before today. “You are the closest thing to the divine this world has.” 

This man, who barely gave others the time of day, chased after you like you were the key to understanding the universe. No matter what you’ve felt toward him, you’ve always been weak to his praise. It feeds this famished part of yourself that you never knew existed. 

He lavishes your neck with open-mouthed kisses, his hand moving to knead your bouncing chest. Your entire being is dominated by this heretic whose worship is indistinguishable from desecration. You try to focus on chasing your own pleasure, but he’s impossible to ignore. The scent of old books, the taste of honey, and the sounds of depravity lull you into a trance. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come undone on his cock. Your walls clamp down on him, earning a hearty groan. His fingernails dig into your skin, indicating that he’s not far off himself. 

He focuses on letting you ride out your orgasm. Once you go limp, however, it's his high that he fixates on. He manipulates your body to his liking and pounds into you. His hand rises to your jaw, where he holds you steady so that he can kiss you. He slants his lips against yours, nibbling and sucking your lower lip until it feels sore. His breathy moans increase in volume, as does the speed in which he fucks you.

He chuckles when he stops kissing you, drunk on the pleasure you're giving him. "Oh, you're even better than I imagined."

You stare up at him with heavy eyelids, and mumble, "'Imagined...?'"

"Yes, dear girl," he delights in confirming. "Right here, in this very bed."

You think your heart is beating fast enough to give out.

"All day, you distract me, and all night, you infest my dreams."

His thrusts are getting sloppier. He must be nearing his end, having strained himself to make this last as long as possible.

"So take what I give you," his voice comes out labored. "Everything. It's... ah... all for you."

Anaxa pushes himself as far as he can inside you, shuddering as he cums. The thick, viscous substance coats your walls, his load seemingly endless. You can feel his cock twitching while he fills you to the brim. Faintly, you realize you’re playing with fire, but you’re too fucked out to care. When he pulls away, his ample spend leaks out. He stares in awe, his glossy lips agape, utterly bewitched by this proof of your coupling. 

You wince as he gathers his cum along your folds, then pushes it back inside. Feeling overstimulated, you try closing your legs, but he holds them open, intent to look a while longer.

“You’re gross,” you manage in between labored breaths.

He collapses to your right, pulling you flush against him so your head rests on his heaving chest. 

“And you’re lovely,” he peppers kisses along your perspiring forehead. “Don’t be cross with me. You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?” 

You don’t dignify that with a response. 

Anaxa smooths out your hair, tucking the strands back into place. While you come down from your respective highs, reality smacks you like a brick to the face. You grimace as you recall the semen dripping out of you. 

“I need a contraceptive.” 

You try getting up, but he tightens his grip, holding you hostage. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes, you bastard,” you writhe in his arms to no success. Panic starts to set in. How can you get some before it’s too late? Anaxa doesn’t share in your anxiety, he seems content to run his hands up and down your bare back. It occurs to you then that the solution might share its origins with the problem. “Make me one.” 

If it’s created by him, there’s no chance the worst could come to pass. 

“Didn’t you allude to favoring virility? Now’s my opportunity to prove myself.” 

“I will murder you in your sleep.” 

“And raise our offspring without a father? Ah, it’s a jest, there’s no need to thrash.” 

Thoroughly exhausted, you close your eyes, accepting that you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Not until he wills it. “Anaxa, please. This isn’t funny. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick.”

“Anaxagoras,” he corrects. 

You flatly repeat his full name, much to his pleasure. 

“… I foresaw this happening. I’ve already prepared a contraceptive, allow me a moment.” 

He lifts himself with a grimace, likely worn out himself. You’re left on your lonesome as he enters the other room. A few minutes later, he returns with a pill and a glass of water. Wordlessly, you snatch the offerings, downing the pill with urgency. While you gulp down the water, he hands you a plain shirt. You place the empty glass on the nightstand and throw the garment on. It’s far too large, but you don’t mind. All you care about is covering yourself up. 

Frowning, you glance around, failing to locate an important article of clothing. 

“Give me my underwear back.”

“I’m afraid I’ve misplaced it,” he lies. You narrow your eyes as he gives you a pair of boxers instead. “This should suffice.” 

Next, you reach for your pants, but he grabs them before you can and holds them out of reach. “You don’t intend to walk back, do you?” 

“Why would I stay?” you mumble. He lifts them higher, denying your grasping hands. 

“I need to monitor you for potential side effects,” he explains. 

“...” 

You turn your back to him and lie down. Arguing is useless if his mind is made up. The mattress dips as he sits, but you remain motionless, even when his fingertips glide along your arm. Silence reigns while he maps out glyphs against your skin. Your emotions are in a complete disarray. Now that you’re not blinded by lust, his touch is akin to spiders on you. It’s a small mercy that he didn’t make the aphrodisiac as long lasting as he could’ve. 

The mere thought churns your insides. 

“I’ll need some time to compile the materials you requested.”

He pauses, processing the sharp shift in topic. “Is this about Styxia?” 

“What else?” you retort. “Have I not always delivered on what you ask of me?” 

You’re grateful you can’t see his expression. For once, you don’t want access to the inner workings of his mind. Let him remain an enigma. Every piece of himself he breaks off to give you will be thrown away. He’s cast you as his ruin; a role you eagerly accept. Shouldn’t you get to plot the trajectory of his downfall? It’s only right. You will take everything, hollowing him out until naught but a vessel remains, and he’ll allow it, because it’s you. 

The first fissure spreads. 

“You do, every time. Without exception,” Anaxa eventually affirms. “... I expect great things from our collaboration.”

The Great Performer takes his place by your side in this amphitheater you’ve both painstakingly constructed. 

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ! ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS PROF GETO — IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! ❞

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

✧ summary: you always had the wrong timing with professor geto -- first you were his student, then his T.A., and now it was the wrong place -- he’s moving to Kyoto. but you had a few weeks together before then -- so can you make them last?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (for real), so much fluff (we've earned it), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, shower sex, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, surprise appearance by someone :)

✧ wc: 12,010 (is anyone surprised?)

✧ other parts: part one | part two | v-day special

Time was the one thing that seemed to always escape you and Suguru — fuck,  timing was never your strong suit to begin with—if your late arrival to Suguru’s first class was any indication. 

You always ended up too early or too late to places, your entire day spent waiting for an appointment in the middle of the day, and your meeting days often mixed up in your head. And now—

Your relationship had an expiration date before it had even started. 

The question you asked when the message from the department head came through hung in the air of his office like a death announcement. And it almost was — the second death of not even the start of what could have been a relationship. 

Suguru’s eyes can’t meet yours, brow furrowed as if he had thought hard enough, he could solve the problem of distance with a simple application of an ethical theory — but unfortunately Socrates nor Plato had invented any solutions for instantaneous travel. 

So the elephant remained. 

“When did you—“ 

“No,” he’s swallowing, his eyes meeting yours again — desperate, but not the desperation you had both felt a moment ago — the desperation felt in the throes of passion — no, this desperation was the one felt when clinging to sand slipping between your fingers, “let’s not talk about this, not right now,” 

“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands slipping around your waist, and each brush of his lips steals away another ounce of sense from you, “we have to talk about—“ 

“I know we do, I know,” he murmurs between kisses, his fingers cupping your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone, “but I don’t want to think any more — I just want to be with you. I just want you,” and his voice breaks ever so slightly, and it cracks any reservations you have — just as this man always did, “but if you want to talk, we can talk right—“ 

And your lips cut off his sentence, only a moment’s pause before he’s melting into your touch again, your hands sliding against his bare chest, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours was — so much so that you wondered if the beating you heard was your own or his. 

“Your place or mine?” and he blinks, as you kiss his jaw, a chuckle on your lips, “unless you’d like to fuck me in your office, I’ll have to admit it’s one of the things I’ve thought about,” 

And god, all the blood in his body must have fled south in a half second with how much he aches for you, “Now who needs to watch their language?” His words are whispered against your neck, as he leans down to press a sweet kiss there, “what other things have you thought about?” His fingers find your chin, tilting your head until your gaze met his again — dark pools of lust stared back — and your thighs would have pressed together, if his knee wasn’t between them, teasingly rubbing against your far too damp panties. 

“Patience, we have time for that,” and his eyes soften ever so slightly, an iota of relief rippling across his features.

“We do?” And it’s a question he needed to ask — had to ask, but that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to — because he knew it could break him. 

“We do,” you pull him into a kiss, your lips sliding against his, “so the question remains, Professor,” you tease, and a shiver runs down his spine, “your place or mine?” 

~~~

You end up at his place — the car ride there was relatively short, but far too long — wringing your hands in your lap, so you wouldn’t touch him. Because you know it would only take one touch — one touch for him to pull to the side of the road and pull you across the console and into his lap. 

But you wanted to do this right — you needed to do this right. You had both waited long enough — you couldn’t hurry, not when you were both about to cross the finish line. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t toe it. And your fingers brush his outer thigh, and his eyes flicker over to you — a silent warning, and you knew you were playing with fire — the same fire that had burned you both time and time again, but this wasn’t his office. And you weren’t to let a goddamn phone stop you from having what you wanted. 

And you wanted him — so bad — and from the way his gaze found yours, tongue flicking across his lips — he wanted you all the same. Your fingers just rested on his thigh, if only to ground yourself — as if touching him was the same as pinching yourself, to remind you that this wasn’t a dream. It was real — this was real. 

It only became more real as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. He got out first, opening the door for you, as he offered you his hand, and helped you out, drawing close, too close for your brain to function — his lips brushing against your ear, “that’s for teasing me in the car,” you barely manage to gape at him, before he’s leading you inside, a palm resting on the small of your back, as you sneak a glance at him — cheeks still burning.

He was so beautiful — in every sense of that word. His dark hair fell in waves, strands slipping from his bun, assuredly from your tryst in his office; his lips were curled in a slight smile, as he pulled his keys from his pockets; and even his hands were gorgeous — they were so much bigger than yours, and his long fingers, lovely veins running across the back of his hands. 

And you’re finally inside his apartment, as he holds the door open for you — the quiet click of the door makes your heart squeeze, his footsteps against the hardwood still when he’s behind you, his arms slowly curling around your waist. His lips ghost your neck, breath warming your skin, “should we talk first?” 

You lean into his touch, your back pressed into his chest, his fingers lightly squeezing your hips, “we should,” and you should, you had to talk about what was going to happen, what this meant, what Kyoto means — but you want to just stay in this moment, you turn to look at him, and your noses brush, “but I don’t want talk right now,” 

And his breath hitches, as your lips brush his, “But we will later?” his voice is barely above a whisper, as if even a word muttered above a whisper could break this moment. 

“I promise we will,” you murmur, your lips curling, as you turn to face him fully, “but let’s not worry about later right now — there’s only one time that’s important, and that’s right now,” 

“Paraphrasing Tolstoy?” He hums, his arms pull you flush to him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already rumpled fabric wrinkling further under your touch, “And what do you plan to do to me right now, Princess?” 

“Oh I have many ideas,” you lean up and brush your lips against the cut of his jaw, delighting in the shiver you draw from him, “so many ideas, Professor — should I write an outline up?” 

“Fuck the outline,” and his lips find yours, his arms curled around you, pressing you flush against him, “I have all I need in my arms right now — I’m sure you’ll give a wonderful oral presentation, now won’t you?” He hums, as his lips part yours a moment, his thumb dragging down your puffy, kiss bitten lips — “I already know you’re an incredible orator,” this fucker knew exactly what to say to make your knees buckle. 

“And I know how good you are with your hands,” you guide them to your hips, “able to tear papers and pantyhose apart,” you teased as a tinge of red appeared across his pretty cheekbones, “I’ll expect a new pair by tomorrow,” 

“Consider it a promise,” and he’s kissing down your neck now, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse jumping under his touch, “but I can’t promise that I won’t do the same thing again,” 

And he’s guiding you to his bedroom, walking backwards, as his teeth nibble at a soft spot of your neck, your fingers finding his jaw to guide him back for another kiss when you pause. 

“What is it?” And you’re reaching into your pocket for something, and then reaching into his as well, as he flinches, fingers far too close to a very sensitive spot, and both of your hands emerge with your phones, turning them off before tossing them onto his couch. And he chuckles, “no risks?” 

“There’s already far too much risk when it comes to us — call it preemptive measures,” and you’re leaning back into a kiss, his lips curled in a smile, “no landlines right?” 

And he laughs, nodding, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up, “Sure you aren’t a utilitarian at heart?” 

“Well, you are certainly the best consequence, now aren’t you?” and he smiles the same smile that doomed you from the start— 

“What a coincidence,” he murmurs, as he pulls you into his bedroom, helping you lie back on his bed, just as he imagined far too many times to be anywhere near ethical, — I was going to say the same about you.” 

~~~ 

“Shouldn’t I be making you feel good first—“ Suguru sucks air through his teeth as your pretty lips press a kiss to his sensitive erection through his tenting boxers, a dark patch of his pre-cum visible on the fabric, “please, sweetheart—“ 

“This is for all the times your email and phone calls blueballed us—“ you smirk, teasing the head with your thumb through the fabric — “and I have to tease you — I mean Professor Geto begging me to suck to him off? Maybe I should make you work for it, write a paper on why you think I should let you cum in my mouth,” and he’s gritting his teeth, cock twitching in his boxers, your words far too effective, “tear it apart until you’re begging for it,” he’s swallowing thickly — and god, he’s so pretty like this, hair splayed out like a halo around his head, cheeks ruddy from his flush, and his chest rising and falling, teeth baring down on his lip, “but I’m much too kind for that,” you’re sliding down his boxers, his cock nearly slapping against his stomach, “and we’ve waited long enough,” 

His cock was even gorgeous — truly what was he? Intelligent, kind, funny — and even his naked body was perfect — his cock was flushed red at the tip, black hair neatly trimmed dotted around it, a slight curve that you knew would feel far too good inside your cunt, and pretty veins you couldn’t wait to memorize— 

You weren’t his favorite student for nothing after all. 

You reach for his cock, smearing the thick beads of pre-cum along his length, kissing the tip, as your fingers slowly gripped the base. He grunts, a sigh leaving his lips, muscles tense as he tries not to rut into your hand and hang on to one iota of self control — and oh, you smirked, you’d do away with that soon enough. 

“You think about me in this room, Suguru?” your fingers slowly start to pump him, his head falling back, “did you touch yourself to the thought of this?” 

“Fuck, Princess—“ your lips curl. 

“Is that a yes?” And you lean down, parting your lips for his length as your tongue traces a teasing trail down his vein, “or a no?” the tip of your tongue lapping at the pre-cum that leaked from his slit, “c’mon, Sugu, not so good to keep your student waiting — maybe I’ll drop the class,” 

“I’ve thought about you — you know I have,” the words leave his lips, any hint of self control lost as his length presses against your cheek when you run a thick stripe with the flat of your tongue up his dick, “wanted to fuck you, taste you, make you scream my name—and,” his gaze softens ever so slightly as his only can in the midst of all this passion, “I wanted to wake up with you, make you breakfast, cuddle you—“ 

And he’s groaning, as you finally wrap your lips around his throbbing cock, tongue swirling around the tip, as his name left his lips in reverence, long fingers finding their way to weave in your hair. Your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. And you know he’s already close by the way his twitching now when his tip nearly brushes against your throat. 

“Sweetheart, stop, I’ll—“ but you don’t oblige him, fingers brushing against his balls, before you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, as you suck and lick at his length, until he’s groaning, “where should I—“ and you suck at his tip in reply, and his head falls back, lips parted in a groan, as he cums hard, swallowing every drop as he paints your throat white with his release. He’s panting and twitching as he comes down from his high — deliciously flushed and messy, as his chest falls up and down as he pants, trying and failing to catch the breath you had stolen from him — sucked from his dick undoubtedly. 

Eyes lidded as he watches you pull yourself from his cock, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his cock, before it drips down your chin, “I may get addicted, Sugu,” and you’re climbing back onto his lap, your lips grazing his still racing pulse, grunting as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, “gonna have my professor’s cock every night at this rate — maybe I’ll suck you off under your desk next time,” your lips brush against his ear, as he gasps, cock twitching against your needy cunt, “how unethical your cock is compared to the rest of you,” and you’re undoing the buttons on his shirt, until it falls open for you, “wonder what other sounds I can draw from you tonight? Shall we learn together—“ 

And he flipped you onto your back on the bed, lips curled in a smile — but a smile laced with lust, eyes raking over your body as he began to strip your shirt off your body, “did you forget, Princess? I’m the professor,” and he leans down to kiss your erect tits through your bra, delighting at your gasp, before sucking lightly at your erect nipple through the fabric, “and I still have so much left to teach you,” 

He is kissing agonizingly slow up your body, first the valley of your breasts, along your collarbone, and the curve of your neck — until his lips finally find yours again. His tongue traces the seam of your lips before being granted access, tasting your own with a moan you swallow all too eagerly. It’s truly not fair for a kiss to be this good — but again, everything about Suguru Geto was.

“What are you going to be teaching me? Kant? Rawls? Aquinas?” You ask between kisses as his fingers sliding behind you to undo your bra, slipping it from your body, his lips parting from yours, a string of spit connecting your lips to his. 

He drags a thumb down your bitten red lips, “No, today's lesson is a bit unorthodox,” and now he’s kissing back down your body this time, tongue dragging over your stomach and belly button, before kissing right above the elastic of your panties. “I’m going to show what I owe you — what I’ve always wanted to owe you—“ a smile playing on his lips, as his legs force your thighs apart, eyes falling onto the wet patch on your underwear with a lust ridden gaze, “and how much I can make you moan my name from it,” 

His fingers begin to ghost up your thighs, before he leans down to ghost all too chaste kisses up your inner thighs, pretty hands holding your flesh still even as it shakes under his attention. 

“Seems like you enjoyed tasting me almost as much as I did,” he teases, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, as his finger teased the drenched fabric, thumb rubbing against your clit, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “no smart remarks now? You always have so much to say,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs, seeing your pretty folds on display for him, glistening with your arousal — your need for him, “don’t tell me all it takes is my face between your thighs to get you to fall quiet,” and his lips curl as your lips pout, only making him chuckle, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure the only thing you know how to say is my name after this,” 

He presses a sweet kiss to your dripping folds, nose brushing against your sweet clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your outer lips teasingly, “thought about this so long, dreamed about this sweet cunt, Princess — tastes and smells better than I ever imagined,” your fingers grasp at the strands of his hair, tugging the hair tie from his messy bun, toes curling into the sheets, “wanna spend all night buried in this pussy,” 

And his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, ghosting over your entrance, before he’s circling your clit again. Moans leave your lips, again and again, lips closing over your clit to suck. Your muscles tense, back arching and your nails digging into his scalp, “barely even started, baby, don’t go cumming just yet,” 

“Sugu, please, more,” you whine, looking down at him, eyelashes nearly fluttering. 

His lips curl, “How can I say no to my favorite student?” And his fingers spread your sweet folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as he gathers your slick on his thick digit, working his way into your tight walls. 

You’re gasping at the way his finger sinks knuckle deep into your tight cunt, your insides wet and warm, “your pussy is as talkative as you are,” the lewd squelch of your walls fills the silence, “maybe even more,” as he begins to fuck you in earnest, “think you need more, don’t you, baby?” And he’s adding another finger, the delicious stretch making your mouth fall open at the intrusion of his fingers. 

You’re bucking against his touch, thighs shaking as you do, his fingers curling against that spot that has you moaning his name, his dick half hard already just from feeling your walls around his fingers. 

You’re so fucking close — the drag of his fingers against your walls, your hips meeting his thrusts, “good girl, you take me so well, can’t wait to sink into you, Princess,” and his lips find your clit again, teeth grazing it teasingly, “s’good for me, baby, you close?” And you’re nodding, walls fluttering around his fingers, and he grunts, “cum for me,” 

And you do, your head falling back onto the pillow, as you cum hard, his name on your lips, as your walls squeeze around his fingers. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, tongue lapping up your release, his lips leaving your clit with a pop. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers around your sweet cunt. Your eyes flutter open, watching him lick his lips clean, before he meets your gaze, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, “sweetest thing I ever tasted, baby,” 

He’s kissing your thighs, as you come down from your high, teeth grazing the plush flesh of your inner thigh, sucking and pinching, before soothing it with his tongue, “s’good for me,” and he’s slinking back up your body, his hard cock catching on your clit, making both of you groan. 

“Please, Suguru, I need you,” your fingers find the back of his neck, threading through his hair,  and he smirks. 

“Look at my T.A., so needy for her professor,” and your fingers tug at his hair to pull the smirk off his lips, “I’d say you hold all the power in this relationship, Princess,” 

“Do I, now?” Your fingers curl around his length, teasing the leaking head with your thumb making him hiss. 

And his gaze meets you so earnestly, it nearly makes you melt, a gasp leaving his lips as he cups your cheek, “You could ruin my life, and I would thank you for it, if it was you,” 

“Suguru—“ 

“If you were going to use me, I’d tell you to use me. If you needed me, I’d want you to call me,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “and If you didn’t love me, I’d love you anyway,” and he doesn’t let you respond, lips brushing against yours, as he gently moves your hand away, and lines himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, “are you ready?” 

And you’re nodding, a huffed chuckle escaping your lips, “Been ready for far too long — there’s no other electronics around here right?” 

He laughs, “No, just you and me,” molten lava stared back at you, a heat seeping into your skin as he guided himself into your fluttering cunt, inch by inch, as his name leaves your lips in a desperate moan that nearly has him cumming right then and there, not to mention how eagerly your pussy swallows his cock whole, “fuck, such a good fucking girl f’me, baby,” 

He split you open as he sunk into you, pretty walls stretching around him — delicious pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, soft praises whispered in your ears as he did, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “that’s it, baby, look at you, taking me s’well,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, as you bite your lip, “are you okay?” and he finally bottoms out, stilling as your walls clamp around him, a groan leaving his lips, “so tight, so much better than I could have imagined,” 

“Sugu, please, move,” and you didn’t need to say anything more — he starts slow, languid thrusts that drive him deeper into your cunt, his fingers lift your legs up, hooking them around his waist, and you wrap them even tighter, the tip of his cock hitting even fucking deeper, “fuck, Sugu, so deep, so good—” 

“You were made for me, just like this cock was made for you,” he grunts, the lewd squelch of your insides, the slapping of your skin against his, “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl, never wanna leave this cunt,” his vulgar words only made your walls flutter around him, “trying to keep my dick, Princess? Don’t worry, it’s only for you anyway,” he teases, “my pretty girl’s cunt been denied twice — gotta make sure you learn your lesson this time, right?” 

And god you were — you were learning his shape, his length, the slight curve he had, every vein that lined his cock, every inch — and you’d be sure to memorize it. Because he may be reaching you this time — a moan leaving your lips as his cock kissed a particularly deep part of your cunt — but the next lesson, you would be sure to pass with flying colors. 

“S’close, Sugu, fuck, ngh—“ and he’s nodding, his fingers reach and rub your clit in circles, cock hitting that part of your cunt that has you seeing stars as pleasure rips up your body, as you cum. Your toes curl, fingers grasping at him to pull him impossibly close, His eyes flicker open, watching your cunt squeeze around his cock, a white ring of cum around his base, he fucked you through your orgasm. 

His hips begin to stutter, a groan pulled from his lips, “S’good baby, I’m close—where—“ 

“Inside,” and his dick twitch, “cum for me, Suguru,” and he does, notching himself deep inside you, as he spills his seed inside, thick spurts painting you walls, as he moans your name. His thrusts slow, his lips brushing against yours. And you smile up at him, still dazed, his softening cock still inside you, “well that was very unethical,” a giggle escaped your lips, and his lips curled, as he leaned up to kiss you again. 

“And how much more unethical would it be to do it again?” and you hum, as you flip him over onto his back. 

“It’s a sunk cost fallacy at this point, think we can get away with it now,” and your lips find his in a hot kiss, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulls away. 

“A philosopher and an economist?” he chuckles, his lips grazing your jaw now, murmuring, “I learn more about you every day,” 

“I could cite Kant or Butler if you’d prefer—” and he’s grinding his hips under you, a gasp parting your lips, as his cock slides against your soaked cunt, “Sugu—” 

His lips curl in that damn smile, and all words fall away, as he kisses you, “I think I would rather listen to my name leave you lips instead, princess.” 

~~~

RING. RING. RING. 

Fuck. You give a soft groan — a dream again? 

A small sigh parts your lips, as reality washes over you. Eyes fluttering open and shut, as sleep pulls at your eyelids still. Your hands reach over to both sides, but find no one as expected, you sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. It was all soft sheets and shining sunlight — but no Suguru. You kicked your feet up and down, pouting. You thought you were over having those dreams. 

But then….why did it smell like him? 

“What are you doing?” And you snap up, turning quickly, the comforter sliding down slightly and find Suguru standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against his door frame. He looks sinfully good — long hair still thoroughly rumpled from the night before, pretty lips a little kiss bitten red, only a black t-shirt and boxers thrown on, and his obsidian gaze fixed on you. 

“What—what are you doing?” And he raises an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t that obvious? Watching you,” he chuckles, as your cheeks burn, “can you blame me? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases, as you glance down and see that half the blanket had slid down, exposing your bare chest. 

You pull the blanket back on, wrapping it around yourself, “So one night in bed and the ethics fall out the window, huh?” 

“Well, you did a good job defenestrating them, didn’t you?” He chuckles, sipping his coffee, “have to take responsibility for your actions — it is your duty,” 

“Oh, it’s my duty now?” And he’s climbing back into bed beside you, “and what does this duty entail?” And he hums, as your fingers find the fabric of the front of his shirt and tug him close, before sliding up to wrap around his neck. 

“Well, Kant said, it’s not the consequences that matter, but the motives behind the actions,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “so what are your motives?” 

“My motives are…” you consider your words, as you suppress the moan from his teeth grazing his pulse, and you pout, “you’re distracting me,” and he laughs, the lovely vibration against your skin making you shiver, before he draws back, thumb drawing circles on your palm now, “I want to wake up with you, I want to fall asleep beside you, I want to hear about your days and your night — even ones I spend with you, and I’d say my main motivation is to be with you,” your fingers clasps his thumb, before slowly intertwining your fingers with his, “is that a sufficient answer, Professor Geto?” And he’s silent a moment, a sweep of anxiety rushes across your body, fingers grasping at the sheet hidden under the comforter, as you add, “but Kant would also argue that the behavior is not one done of good will since, even if the consequence is good, it’s not done out of respect for the moral law—“ 

And his lips find yours, cutting off your ramble mid sentence, letting each sentence, word, and thought burn under his touch, each brush of his lips and his hands — as one palm cupped your cheek, while the other found purchase on your thigh — erased more of your worries, until he finally parts—

“It’s always good, if it’s you that I have as my consequence,” and he erodes the last of your concerns with his words, as his lips find yours again, “I was going to make you breakfast,” he mutters against your lips, meeting and parting again and again, before he’s easing the blanket from your fingers, gaze darkening as he sees you fully. And he’s easing you onto your back, against the plush pillows and sheets, as he kisses a hot trail down your body, before he finds himself between your legs again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “but I think I may have my meal first.” 

~~~

Suguru would have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t woken first. To wake again in your arms, sunlight filtering through in his bedroom, your arms curled on his front, and your legs entangled, the warmth of your breath heating his skin, and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. 

He had to pinch himself to make sure, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to the same fan he had stared at on many sleepless nights with only thoughts of you plaguing his mind, before his gaze fell back to you — only to find you beside him now. 

There was no more perfect dream than this, but it wasn’t one, as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek gently, and you stirred only for a moment, a whisper on your tongue, “Sugu,” you murmured, lips parted as your nestled further into his chest, and his body burned with want. 

Fuck. He tried to shift his hips away from you — this wasn’t helping his early morning problem — now was it? He really didn’t want a repeat of the hotel bathroom again, but this time, he could take his time — because you both had it. The end of the semester had mostly come and gone — he could wait on grading the papers — if only it meant a few minutes more in bed with you. 

You woke up soon enough after he had left bed, hoping to start on the beginnings of breakfast, but he found himself feasting on another meal instead. 

“Sugu, please, s’close,” what was it about you that tasted so heavenly? He had spent his life pouring over ethical dilemmas and trying to tackle problems of moral truths, but as he brought you over the edge to your second orgasm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have spent his time buried in your cunt instead of books. 

He lapped up your release eagerly, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before running a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, drawing another gasp from you — thighs shaking from pleasure. 

“Sugu, please, enough,” and he eases off, chin and lips still sticky with your cum, as his tongue darted out to clean some of it off, wiping the rest off with his arm, “I want you, please,” 

And fuck, he could cum just hearing those words from your kiss ruined lips, eyes blown out in lust, and your bare chest rising and falling. He drags his cock over your folds again, “need me again, Princess? Last night not enough for you?” he grunts when he watches your walls clench around nothing, as if to tempt his dick to sink into you. 

He bit his lip, it was working. 

Eventually, the two of you lie entangled again, a little stickier than before, your faces half an inch apart, and your fingers tracing his jaw. 

“I wish we could stay here in this bed forever,” you murmur, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingertips, soft kisses pressed to each one, his nose then rubbing against your palm, “no responsibilities, no reality, just us,” 

“Sounds like heaven,” he murmurs, words whispered against your skin, “of course I think any place with you is,” except when he can’t touch you, when he can’t kiss you, when he can’t smile at you without his heart aching — but he doesn’t say that, “we should talk shouldn’t we?” 

“We should,” your eyes meet his, an ache that only made the ache in him grow, “I don’t want to stop you from going to Kyoto,” 

“I would if it was for us, for you,” and your lips curl sadly, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, as if to stop yourself from saying yes, that you’d let him — let him say no, let him keep his old job, let him stay in Tokyo. 

“But that’s exactly why I can’t do that, for you — you said you wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I can’t do that to you too,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his, “I can’t let you put your career on hold for us, I know you’ve wanted this. You must’ve since you applied,” 

“I only applied because I thought we would never—“ he cuts off, lump sitting on his throat, “I don’t want this to end before it’s barely started,” 

“Me either,” you say softly, and his lips brush yours — he didn’t want it to end, not now. Not ever. 

And then he realizes — it doesn’t have to. 

“Then we start there,” he says, as he parts from your lips, words said in the promise of the same breaths you both had just exhaled, “I’m not moving until next semester. We have two months of summer before I’ll be in Kyoto full time, and before you have classes again,” his fingers find yours, intertwining with his, hand engulfing yours, “We’ll live as philosophical presentists,” and you scoff, a smile pulling on your lips. 

“You don’t miss an opportunity to give a lesson, do you?” He gives a wry smile. 

“Take the professor out of the classroom—“ and you snort, “what I mean is let’s live in this moment — we could discuss the future and past all day long — but neither exist right now,” and he rests your palm against his cheek, fingers squeezing your own, “but we do, in this moment right now, so why don’t we savor it?” 

Your lips can’t help but curl into a smile, “How about instead of a drink you make me breakfast?” 

~~~~

Was it possible to get deja vu from an experience you hadn’t had yet? 

You step into Suguru’s shower, a distinct sense of deja vu settling over you as you wash yourself, the marks of the night before (and this morning) still littering your body, as if to remind you that it wasn’t a dream. 

It better not be, as you pinched yourself again, pressing your hands to your still hot cheeks, sticking your head under the water. God, this shower smelt like him, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingering in the bath, even after he had left. He had showered here this morning, after you had laid in for a bit longer, emerged from the master bath with only a towel around his waist, stray water droplets running down his chest, drenched black strands clinging to his skin. He had stood here, and washed himself — lathering his body, hands drawn up and down his muscles, from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach — lower and lower—

You bit your lip, as you pressed your thighs together.

No, no, if you did that and Suguru caught you, he would never let you live it down. You finish your shower, the squeak of the faucet as you shut the water off, before toweling off. You glanced at your clothes hanging on the towel rack outside the shower, rumpled from the night before, reluctant to pull it back on. Instead, you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, 

You had a better idea. 

~~~

“You have good timing,” Suguru says, smile on his lips, as he folds the omelet, yours he had decided, as with pancakes, his first omelet has not come out as well as this one had, “not late for once,” as he carefully plates the other omelet with some rice as well as miso soup he had made the night before, “I—“ 

And he turns, words fleeing his mind, assuredly taking his several years of education and teaching with it, as all the blood from his brain floods downward. 

You were wearing his button up from last night, the wrinkled fabric draped over your body, falling past your thighs, the buttons mostly done, with a few top buttons unbuttoned far too teasingly — just one more and he could kiss your chest, two and he could— 

Fuck. 

“What?” You blink, chewing on your lip, “sorry I didn’t want to get back on my clothes from last night, so I stole your shirt, and uh,” your gaze shying away, “your boxers,” 

Self control. He had perfect self control — hell, this last year had been an exercise in self control — control from brushing his fingers over your cheek, control from saying anything that pushed the line any further than the two of you had blurred it, control himself from taking you in his office (though he had not controlled himself as more as he was interrupted — twice). 

But it was as if the dam had broken,  the small cracks formed in the concrete now had compromised the integrity of the barrier and had burst the night before, and now — he rounded the counter, his arms reaching for you — there was no putting the water back in the dam after a flood. 

Then again, he was more than happy to get swept away — if it was you. 

“Sugu—ummph,” his name was muffled by the namesake’s own lips, swallowing the rest of his syllables along with your breath. His hands rake down your sides, his large hands slipping under your shirt, finding bare skin underneath. 

“Nothing but my boxers and shirt?” He kisses your jumping pulse, lips lingering on your neck, as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s like you knew what I wanted for breakfast, Princess,” fingers toying with the hem of the boxers you stole, “stealing isn’t very ethical,” 

“Neither is a professor sleeping with a student,” you said between gasps. 

He chuckles, “Well, a fair point, but let me remind you,” his fingers tease the elastic of his boxers you wore, the pads of fingers burning against your skin, as his erection pressed between your ass, drawing a gasp from your lips, “you wanted it,” 

“What’s gotten into you?” you murmur, as his hand dips into your boxers, your head pressed against his body, lips parted, as a ribbon of heat spreads like a fire in dry heat. 

And he knows exactly what’s gotten into him, his clothes on you, the scent of his soap and shampoo on you, and the way your body just melts under his touch—as your eyes drift to meet his own, looking up with lust scrawled across your features. 

“You just look like a dream,” and his body met yours with a practiced ease, as if he had loved you all his life, and not for the first time last night, “one that I’ve had for far too long,” he buried. His face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing careful kisses as if you’d disappear under his touch, “is this real?” 

And he doesn’t know why his breath catches at the question, a question he knows the answer to, because he knows you’re real, your warm skin under his touch, the pulse he felt racing under his lips — but he still worried he’d wake up in any second and you wouldn’t be here. 

You softly chuckle, pinching his arm, “you feel that?” And he nods, and you turn to face him, leaning up to kiss his lip chastely, “did you feel that?” And he’s nodding, eyes fluttering, before you kiss his neck, teeth grazing his soft skin there, a gasp parting his lips, as you lean back, a smirk pulling on your lips,  “and you definitely felt that,” you press your body into his, “this is real, I’m not going anywhere,” and he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “should we have breakfast now?” 

His lips curl, his fingers tilting your chin up, as he leans down to kiss you again, “in a minute.” 

Because now you both had plenty of those. 

~~~

“Where are we going?” 

Suguru laughs, you were sure his laugh was in the top five noises that he made — right between him whispering your name in the mornings  and the way he groaned when you teased him particularly badly. 

His eyes still fixed on the road, flickered to you for a moment while he drove, “The more you ask, the less likely I am to tell you,” and you pout, hiding the smile that creeped on your lips as you crossed your arms. 

After the day you two spent, the next day, Suguru had already made plans to take you on a date — only giving you a day or so to prepare. No instructions except to wear layers to keep a little warm. 

“You weren’t likely to tell me anyway,” he chuckles, as you glance at him again — it still almost feels forbidden as you did — he had opted for contacts rather than glasses, his hair tied in a bun as usual, lips curled in your favorite smile — you didn’t have to steal glances anymore, these glances were yours to have. 

It felt so different from that drive you had taken to the conference — it felt as if you were being suffocated by your feelings, sucking the air you breathed from your lungs as if to stop you from speaking because any word you spoke would only cross that line you couldn’t even toe without drowning. But now, that line wasn’t even blurred, it was gone, washed away by the decision the two of you made — and it couldn’t have been better. 

Because now you could do this. 

Your fingers rest on the gap of the console, before sliding over, and finding his thigh. His eyes slide over to you, “Need something sweetheart?” 

You hum, drawing circles on his thigh, “Wondering if I could convince you to tell me where we’re going with some extra credit?” 

“I don’t remember assigning any extra credit, plus you’re not being graded, but even if you were,” you smile, “you’d have at least a B+,” 

You gasp, “Suguru!” He laughs, even harder when he spots the pout on your lips, “I think I deserve higher than that,” 

He pulls up to a stoplight, fingers finding yours  “well maybe you can change my mind tonight,” 

“Will we ever get there? Or is it a ‘Waiting for Godot’ situation?” He snorts, as he intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting the back of your hand to his lips and holding it there. 

“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting,” and your gaze softens, as he continues to hold your hand as he drives. 

You smile, squeezing his hand, “Good, because I think we both have waited long enough.” 

~~~

“Is the blindfold necessary?” 

“Trust is essential to a relationship,” Suguru replied, his arm around your waist as the other hand held your own, a blindfold tied around your eyes, as he guided you somewhere — the blindfold had come a few minutes before you reached your destination, “don’t you trust me, princess?” 

“Oh I don’t know, it depends on whether you’re planning on murdering me and disposing of my body in the ocean,” and he pauses — you can almost see the furrow of his brow, “you may have blindfolded me but I can still smell,” the scent of sea salt carried by the cool breeze tickled at your nose, even as you still walked on pavement approaching the beach, you could faintly hear the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore. 

“I suppose I should have gotten nose and ear plugs for my far too observant girlfriend,” and the title makes your heart squeeze, as his fingers squeeze your hand, before parting, only to brush against your hair as he undoes the blindfold, “well since it’s spoiled already,” 

The blindfold falls away, sunlight peeking through a moment, as the world comes into view — a beautiful sandy beach with salty waves parting through the shore, so bright as the sun reflects off the sand, making your eyes squint, only for Suguru to place sunglasses carefully on your face, “You came prepared,” your lips curl, as he tucks the blindfold away, and lifts up a picnic basket, “in more than one way,” 

“Well, I thought a picnic on the beach was a nice way to begin today,” and he pulls out a sunhat from his bag as well, placing on top of your head, “don’t worry, I have sunblock as well, in case we need it,” 

“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” and you look up at him, the light glinting off his flint eyes like sparks, “and now what’s my job here?” 

“Enjoy today, take in the view,” and your fingers brush his cheek, somehow warmer than before. 

“Funny, I thought I already was.” 

~~~~

“Are you cold?” Suguru murmurs, when he feels you lean on him, a slight shiver against his chest that runs up your spine, and before you can answer, he’s wrapping a blanket around the two of you. 

“Mr. Philosopher always has all the answers don’t you?” Another breeze has you moving even closer, as his palm moves to lean towards you, arm brushing against your back. 

“Not all the answers,” and he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, as his lips brush against it, “I still don’t know how you became so irresistible,” 

“All the ethics, of course,” and he snorts, as he hums, his hand sliding against your cheek, as his lips press against the soft skin beside your ear, “Sugu—” 

“Hm?” he leans back to listen so intently, noses brushing, and all the words you have slips off your tongue, every thought flies right out of your head, and all that’s left is the feeling of warmth that comes with being this close. 

God, he was unfairly gorgeous — even now, his hair unkempt from the wind as dark locks trickled out of his bun, his  skin painted with a pretty flush, and his warm body pressed against you made any thought of being cold evaporate. 

“Sweetheart? You okay?” he murmurs, fingers drifting over your cheek, a tilt of his head, and pulls you back from your reverie like the waves pulling more sand back into the ocean. 

“I’m okay,” you shake your head, as your fingers rest over his, leaning into his touch, “I just was thinking how perfect this moment was,” 

“And what’s so perfect about it?” 

“You and me, just,” you bite your lip, “I didn’t think it’d happen,” 

“Me either,” he admits, “I don’t ever want to hold you back — I couldn’t stand to be the reason for your unhappiness,” 

“I could never see you as that,” and his lips curl, “promise you’ll never leave me?” 

“Princess—“ 

“Just promise,” you murmur, “even if it isn’t real—“ 

“Who says it isn’t?” His lips brush yours, a heat that swallows your cold, creeping anxieties and burns them to nothing, “I promise, I’ll never leave you,” 

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” 

“Well, call me a Kantian,” he kisses you again, whispering these words against your lips, “because I intend to keep this promise.” 

~~~

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” 

You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at Suguru looking perfectly lost as he stood, watching you, hands crossed if only to stop him from taking over. 

“For the millionth time, no,” you continue stirring the miso soup you were making, as you tenderized the chicken for the chicken katsu, “just keep me company,” you glance at him, biting your lip as your eyes raked over his outfit — a white shirt tucked under a navy pullover tucked into dark jogger pants, “and you’re already providing eye candy,” you teased. 

“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, and you turned back to the task at hand, as you set the meat tenderizer down, to prepare the chicken to be breaded, and his arms curled around your waist, “and what if I want you to use a little more than your eyes?” 

“Suguru, my dinner—“ but he continues, fingers brushing your hair aside, his warm breath turning your blood to molten molasses, “you’re making a habit of interrupting our meals like this.” 

“The only thing I want to eat is in my arms,” he kisses your neck, feeling you shiver, “there’s another philosophy — ‘the customer’s always right?’”

You laugh, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “this isn’t a restaurant, unless I’m charging you at the end of this,” 

“Maybe you should, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” and you hum as he trailed kisses down your neck to your shoulder — he never had a sweet tooth, but you were the only dessert he ever had craved. 

“Knowing you, it would also come with a review written in red pen,” and it’s his turn to laugh now, as you lowered the stove temperature on the soup, before turning to face him. 

He pulls you flush against him, “I’d hope you’d do better than a B+ this time,” and you glare at him, before your lips curl into a smirk, as you dare closer, your chest now pressed against his. 

“This time I will because my annoying prick of a professor is very much able to be persuaded by other methods not available to me at the time,” your lips ghost over his ear, just as your voice used to haunt him in his dreams, “but now, I think he’ll be quite amenable to my work,” 

“Don’t you want to earn your accolades?” and your smile is more wicked than the night itself, as you lean up to meet his own.  

“Oh I will be earning them,” your lips are so close he could feel the words you spoke as you did — every part of your lips, every flick of your tongue — and then he’s met with your fingers dragging flour over his cheek, “after dinner.” 

Suguru gaped at the flour smeared across his cheek, as you turned back around, the click of the burner as you turned it high again, “Was that necessary? You snorted, as you began to season the chicken, as he wiped the offending flour from his cheek. 

“Well, was it necessary to give me a 99 on the final paper?” 

~~~~

“Well, this is just unfair,” you sat in the middle of a cat cafe — arms crossed and biting back a small smile that threatened to bloom across your lips — the cutest one you had found in the heart of Tokyo that you had reluctantly dragged Suguru. 

He wasn’t a fan of cats or dogs, for that matter. 

But now, after paying the admission fee, and ordering your drinks, the two of you sat in an enclosure of cats you were far too eager to meet — and perhaps, they could sense it. 

“Did you break Kantian principles and lie about hating cats or is the universe playing a prank?” you watch as yet another cat approaches your boyfriend, an entire litter already taking up residence on any available real estate on his body, while you had only a single cat in your lap the entire time, as if it was taking pity on you. 

This was no better than when you were a T.A., swarms of students surrounding Suguru, while you were left with barely a soul. Apparently it applied to students and animals, and you felt a small twinge of jealousy — but you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of the cats or him. 

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t particularly want one of my own,” he shrugs, as he scratches the newcomer behind the ear, “but maybe you’ve changed my mind,” 

“I tend to have that influence,” and his lips curl. 

“I have seem to have developed a soft spot for strays,” and you gape at him, as he snorts at your aghast expression, a cat swatting at his bobbing bangs as he shook with laughter, “but you’re my favorite one,” 

“I better be,” you grumble, crossing your arms and pouting, before you watched him pet yet another cat that had made itself at home on your boyfriend’s lap. And you pull out your phone to sneak a few pictures.

“I wanted to ask you something actually,” he says as you glanced up from your phone, he bit his lip, a small hint of nerves apparent in his stiff shoulders and shy gaze, “I’m going to Kyoto next week to look for an apartment for when the semester starts,” and your heart sinks a little at the thought — the summer was half over already, and it was far too quick for your liking. The more you wanted time to linger, the more it seemed to escape you, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to see apartments with me,” 

You blink, you ask softly, “You want me to come?” 

He gets up, easing the cats gently out of his lap, as he makes his way to your side. He sits beside you, the cat in your lap, stretching its way between the two of you, as you rub his head.  

“I know we said we would see how this would go before the start of the semester, but I know what I want — I think I did from the very start of this,” he says, as his ebony gaze finds yours, “I want to be with you — and I’d like you to come with me to pick out an apartment, because I want it to be somewhere you want to be too—“ 

And you cut him off with a kiss, arms thrown around his neck — he freezes a moment, before melting into your kiss, his fingers cupping your cheeks, “We’ll have to make sure it’s pet friendly,” 

He chuckles, his forehead pressed against yours, “So we’re getting a cat?” 

Your fingers find his own as another cat brushes against both of your legs, “That or a poodle.” 

~~~

“What did you think of that place?” You ask as you both walk out of another viewing for an apartment, as he looks at the list he made on his phone, “it had good light, it’s close to the university, it’s pretty spacious,” But he’s sighing, as you tilt your head, “Suguru?” 

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he’s shaking his head, “i think we should look for another place,” the same thing he had said for the last three places — he had found something wrong with each of them, but this one seemed different. 

“Why?” and he doesn’t answer, and you cling to his arm, a hand on his cheek to guide him to look at you, “Sugu?” 

He bites his lip a little, as he rubs the back of his neck, “it’s just far from the station so when you come to visit, it might be a little difficult for you,” and your gaze softens, mouth opening to reply, “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you would tell me not to worry,” and you close your mouth, and he chuckles, “I was right huh?” 

“Oh, a man is a smart ethics professor and he thinks he knows everything,” you kiss his lips, “you really don’t have to worry. We’ll make it work,” 

“I know, but the round trip on the bullet train is four hours, I don’t want to make you wait longer or waste even a minute of your time together,” he murmurs, as you twirl a dark strand of his hair between your fingers. 

“No moment spent getting to you or being with you is a waste,” you smile, fingers smoothing your boyfriend’s furrowed brow, “plus the train gives me time to catch up on my reading — and you’ll be coming to see me too,”

“I know, I just,” he sighs, leaning into your hand resting against his cheek, “I don’t want to ever be a burden,” 

“Not to me, it’s not a burden when it’s you,” your fingers find his and bring his knuckles to your lips, “you’re worth every minute,” 

“And you’re worth so much more than that,” and you smile against his skin. 

“Always have to one up me, don’t you?” And his arm wraps it’s way around your waist, tugging you close. 

His lips brush yours again, “Always, when it comes to caring for you.” 

~~~

“You found such a perfect hotel room,” you sighed, collapsing onto the pristine (not so pristine now) bed, your feet very sore from all the walking you had done over the last three days, “I’m glad you finally found a place you liked,” and he sits at the edge of the bed, beside you, as he chuckles at the sight of you laid starfished on the bed, “the apartment’s beautiful, close to the university and a station, and it allows pets,” 

His fingers find your foot, massaging the sore sole, bringing a low groan from your lips, eyes fluttering shut, “Good thing, otherwise, they’d never let me bring you in,” and your eyes snap open to playfully kick him and he laughs, as he stares at you, fingers ghosting over your ankle. 

“What are you staring at?” You tease, and he can’t help the words that escape his lips. 

“I love you,” and your breath catches, as your mind struggles to process the words that left his lips, and a chuckle leaves his lips, as he leans over on his elbow to hover over you, “I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it,” 

“You will?” your lips curl into a smile, “because I think I would like to hear it again,” 

“I love you,” and his lips graze against yours, “I love you,” again, his lips linger a moment longer, “I love you,” again, “I love you—” 

And you kiss him this time, your fingers cupping his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck, as your forehead press together, “I love you too,” and he grins down at you, his lips finding yours again and again, pressing you into the comforter, “I love you, Suguru,” you murmur, his fingers skimming your cheek.

“You know you don’t have to say it back—” 

“I know,” you scoff, as you pinch his cheek lightly, “I said it because I meant it, I do love you, Suguru — I have for a long time,” 

He smirks, “A long time?” 

“Shut up,” you pout, and he’s laughing as he showers your face with soft kisses, “nooo, I changed my answer, I don’t know if I love y—” and he’s swallowing your words with another kiss — but this one is languid and deep, a heat that sinks in from his touch, as his body brushes against yours, until he finally parts to allow you both a breath, “not fair,” 

“Sorry sweetheart, no changing your answer now,” he runs his fingers through your hair, and you’re pulling him into another soft kiss, before you bury your face in his chest, and he gives a soft sigh, as the two of you cuddle, a small chuckle on his lips. 

“What is it?” 

“Deja vu,” and you blink, he laughs again, “the last time we were in a hotel together, we weren’t together, but we had these feelings, and now—” his lips find the top of your head, fingers running through your dark locks, “things are so different — it almost feels like a lifetime ago,” 

“It wasn’t that long ago, but I’m glad it feels that way,” your nose brushes against the hollow of his throat, “I want us to fill up our present with good memories, so that we don’t have any of those other ones linger,”

“I think we can manage that,” his lips glide against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “we should shower,” 

“We?” you raise an eyebrow, a heat that sparks and settles over your skin that only stokes brighter and hotter, when his hand runs down your side and squeezes your hip, “Sugu—” 

“Should we take a utilitarian approach? The benefits: it’s better for the environment to preserve water, we can stay close to each other as we clean our bodies, and reach the spots that are hard for us ourselves to reach. The costs would be,” his lips ghost your collarbone, “we would take longer thus using more water, we would get messier before we would get cleaner, and we might spend a lot more time in bed after,” 

“How is that a cost?” you slip off the bed, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it at him, before pulling down your shorts, as you open the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Are you going to show me the benefits of being my boyfriend?” 

~~~

“Suguru,” his name left your lips in broken syllables, as the head of his leaking cock teased your drenched entrance, your hands braced against the shower wall, the cold of the wet glass contrasting with the warmth of his body pressed against your back, “please,” 

“Please what, princess?” his lips ghost over your shoulder, licking a water droplet from your neck, as he moves a few wet locks to kiss the skin behind your ear, “You’re going to have to be more specific — I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what you need — isn’t that the first thing I taught you?” 

“No, the first thing you taught me was to never be late,” you gasp as he allows his tip to sink into your needy cunt only a little, before he allows it to slip out, “fuck, Sugu, please, I want your cock,” 

“There we go,” his chuckle rumbles against your skin, as he guides his length to your dripping pussy before beginning to sink in, “I told you we would be in here for a while,” his fingers find yours, as he thrusts into you in one smooth movement, his balls pressed flush to your ass, “even your fingertips have become like prunes,” he turns your head to see your lips parted and panting for him, cunt twitching as he drags a thumb down your lips, “but my favorite student doesn’t mind does she?” and you whimper as he pulls his hips back, only to pump back in even harder, a moan leaving your lips, as he holds an arm around you to hold you, as he presses his other palm against the wall, as he starts to fuck you in earnest. 

The slaps of your wet skin echoes in the glass walls of the shower, steam from the hot water filling both of your visions, as his tip brushes against your cervix, “S’good, Sugu, so deep,”  your walls flutter around his dick. 

“Good girl, so perfect f’me, take me so well,” his balls slap against the soft flesh of your ass as he fucks you harder, “been thinking about this for so long, thought about taking you in that hotel room all those nights ago, and it’s better than I could have imagined,” one of his hands finds your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple, as your walls only pull him in deeper and deeper each time he sinks back in, “perfect little princess cunt made f’me, only for me,” 

He’s desperate, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, “Please, I’m close,” your soft cries and moans will be the death of him. He’s turning your head and leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. His hands squeeze your hips as he rocks against you again and again, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears, until he finally hits that spot that has you seeing stars, pulling you over the edge. You cum, the coil in your stomach snapping as you do, your walls clamping down on his dick, as he notches himself deep and cums — spurting his hot release deep inside, as the two of you moan, lips parting. The quiet water drumming against his back fills the silence along with your soft gasps and his pants. The two of you slump forward in the shower, his arm braced around your middle, as his softened cock slips from inside. 

He presses soft kisses to your neck and cheek, whispering quiet praises, “Let’s finish washing up, baby, and I’ll help you into bed,” and you nod, boneless, as you lean against his chest, fingers brushing down his cheek, “are you okay?” 

You nod, as you lean up to kiss his lips, “More than, when I’m with you,” and you add with a dreamy smile, “especially when I find out you’ve fantasized about me,” his already flushed cheeks even redder than before, “you’ll have to tell me more about these thoughts,” 

“And if I refuse?” he murmurs, the blush kissing his ears now, the pink of his soft skin contrasting against the black of his gauges. 

You hum, “I have my ways of making you talk,” and he snorts, as your expression softens, “I love you,” 

He turns you gently, finding your lips in another kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck — and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be than with you, “I love you too.” 

~~~

“It’ll fly by,” you murmur, as you rake your fingers through his hair — you had convinced him to get a trim a week ago, the dead ends long gone, and all that was left were his gorgeous locks. He still opted for the long hair look — sometimes it was tucked away in a bun, other times it was half up, and even at times, he kept it down, “it’s two weeks, and then I’ll come by to visit you,” 

“It’s two weeks too long,” Suguru sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry I had to do—” 

You place a finger over his lips, “Don’t apologize for furthering your career with something you’ve always wanted to do,” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I only have one year left of the program, and then after that, we’ll see where we’re at—” 

He glances away, “I don’t know where either of us will be — but I know I want us to be together,” he bites his lip, and it only makes you want to kiss him all the more, “if that’s what you want too,” 

You pull back only to find his lips again, “You never mince your words do you, Professor?” You can’t help but smile at this man — the man you loved more than you could express in any combination of words. 

“Well, I find my most bright students need a more direct approach,” and you laugh, as he’s pressing needy kisses along your jaw, nosing the sensitive skin, “I think you’ll find it’s a tried and true method,” 

“Oh yeah, I’ve tried it — it’s very true,” as his lips kiss their way back to yours, “do you mean that? And what did you mean? Do you want us to live together or live in the same city—” 

“I would like us to live together, if we are at that point then,” his gaze meets yours, a hint of concern dancing across his ever furrowed brow, “I don’t want to pressure you — so why don’t we discuss that when we get there?” 

“Sounds reasonable,” your fingers smoothing his brow, “but for the record,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “I want to live with you too,” and you bite back a grin at the joy that evaporates the hints of worry on his features, “along with our non-negotiable dozen cats and adorable poodle,” 

He laughs, an easy smile that pulled on his lips, as it always did with you, “I told you, I don’t take in strays aside from you,” you grab your pillow and hit him with it, as he laughs, “ow, ow, I’m joking! I’m sorry—” and you’re giggling as he rips the pillow from your grasp, only to roll you over onto your back, “it sounds nice — a home with you — waking up next to you, planning our days, spending our evenings,” he murmurs, “feels like a dream,” 

You pull him into a kiss — you’ve had many dreams about this man before you — far too many sleepless nights hoping for this reality, only to have it ripped away. But you wouldn’t wake up from this dream, the back of your knuckles grazing his cheek, not ever. 

“It won’t be — not for long.” 

~~~~

“Still not awake? You’ll be late if you wake up any later,” a murmured whisper in your ear stirs you awake, words prying you from your unconscious, as you groan softly, limbs and eyes still so heavy with sleep. But you know you have to get up, part ways with your far too warm bed and the tempting grasp of your blanket. 

“Don’t wanna wake up yet,” and a laugh rings in your ear, lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, “noooo, please, five more minutes,” 

He relents as you stretch your limbs and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you — your thoughts similarly circling the drain — you had a lecture, a presentation, a student council meeting to tend to — not to mention a meeting with your advisor and the department head about your thesis. 

You turn and cuddle into his chest, pressing soft kisses along the space where his collarbone and chest meet, you smirk against his skin as he shivers, as he murmurs your name. 

“What? I’m trying to wake up,” as you lean up and meet him in a lazy kiss, fingers finding the back of his neck, “what better way than this?” 

Today was going to be long, but you supposed it was worth it only to end up here at the end of the day, as you turn and run your fingers through his black locks, “What do you have to do today? First day of a new semester,”

“Two lectures and our meeting later today, and maybe lunch with you?” And your lips curl, as you pull your phone off its charger to check your emails. 

“Really? Lunch? You don’t think that wouldn’t rally scandal across campus two members of the student council conferring outside their meetings on the first day of spring semester?” And he laughs, turning to face you, his short black hair fell in messy tangled in front of his forehead, “might be tempting political intrigue, Yuta,” 

And your boyfriend only smiles, jet black short locks falling in front of his forehead as his fingers brush your cheek before he leans over to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I think we’ll be alright,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “we’ve been pretty lucky, don’t you think?”

It was so simple, it was so easy, and it was so right. 

And your phone flashed with a reminder that caught your eye: Meeting with Suguru Geto — the first time you’d see him in several months, the first time since you had broken up, and the first time since he had broken your heart. 

And Yuta called your name, his eyes curious, “You okay?” And you only smile, locking your phone and the glaring reminder away, to lean over and kiss your boyfriend. 

“More than okay,” as you slowly sit up, “come on, we can’t be late, can we?”  

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming - so when i planned part three with hannah, it was supposed to have three arcs -- this is only one of them lmao - i suppose i was a bit too ambitious with what i thought i could contain in one part. anyway sorry about this ending lmao :) love you - don't worry they will all have a happy ending

✧ 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, @enchantedpendant, @serendididy, @soulstealercat, @neuviloved, @simply-a-s1mp, @satorusmochis, @maddietries,

[hereforuconnwbb]

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 11

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 7.7k

warning: language, injury

hey guysss heres chap 11 !! sorry for a bit of a delay as ive been sick with a fever 😭 ntm to say other than it's not edited. lmk what u guys think !! hope u guys enjoy 😽🫶🏽

‼️‼️this wasn’t edited

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Paige slumped into her seat by the window, the duffel dropping to the floor by her feet. Caroline scooted in beside her, stretching her long legs out, while Aubrey claimed the other corner of the last row, pulling up her hood and immediately nestling against the window like she was prepping for hibernation.

Paige pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and quickly opened her messages.

Paige: js sat down

Paige: alrdy missing u a lil too much 😅

A beat later, the typing bubble appeared. Paige blikned down at it, her stomach fluttering.

Azzi: im still standing outside like an idiot

Azzi:  miss you alrdy too 

Azzi: stay safe ‘lover girl’

Paige’s face flushed, and she turned slightly toward the window to hide it.

Caroline leaned in and nudged her with her elbow. “So… what exactly did I walk in on back there when I yelled your name ?”

Paige didn’t answer at first, just grinned quietly and kept looking at her phone.

Aubrey snorted from her side. “Please. You saw her. She was two seconds away from proposing to Azzi in the bushes.”

Paige groaned, letting her head fall back against the seat dramatically. “Bruhhhh can you not ?”

Caroline smirked. “We’re just saying, that looked like a goodbye scene straight out of a movie.”

“She kissed your cheek,” Aubrey added.

“And you looked like you forgot how to breathe after,” Caroline chimed in.

Paige threw a hand over her face. “Oh my god. I hate both of you.”

Caroline grinned. “Anywayss, I have a question.”

“No,” Paige said automatically.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say !”

“I know.”

Caroline ignored her. “When are you going to actually ask her out ?”

Aubrey perked up. “Yea, I’ve been wondering that too. Especially after what happened today…”

Paige groaned louder. “Don’t bring it up.”

“What ?” Aubrey feigned innocence. “The part where prof casually called Azzi your girlfriend ? That part ?”

Caroline laughed. “I swear he didn’t even blink. He just said it like it was common knowledge.”

“Because it kind of is,” Aubrey added.

“I knew you were going to say that,” Paige muttered, covering her face again.

They all laughed and Paige let the moment settle. The truth was, she didn’t mind the teasing. Because under it all, there was something warm and real growing in her chest, something that didn’t feel one-sided anymore.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Paige mumbled, half-heartedly.

“Yet,” Caroline and Aubrey said in unison.

Paige glared at both of them. “Can I breathe for like five mins ?”

“You can breathe after you grow a spine and ask her out,” Caroline said.

“I’m working on it,” Paige said, quieter now, eyes back on her phone.

A new message buzzed through.

Azzi: u better kill it this weekend. 

Azzi: but also come back asap 🫠 

Azzi: sitting on the couch is gonna feel weirdly quiet without u

Paige smiled to herself, thumbs hovering over the screen before she typed:

Paige: weirdly quiet huh ? 

Paige: sounds like someone is getting used to having me around 🥹

The typing bubble popped up almost instantly.

Azzi: maybe i am. 

Azzi: dont make me admit it twice 🙄

Paige’s heart stuttered. She read the message twice, then 3 times, before tucking her phone into her pocket and exhaling a long, slow breath.

“What ?” Caroline asked, noticing the look on her face.

“Nothing,” Paige said, lips curling despite herself. “Just… maybe I’ll ask her when I get back.”

Aubrey let out a slow, exaggerated clap. “Growth.”

Caroline threw an arm around her shoulder. “Finally. Took like five years.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but her smile never left.

She didn’t feel nervous anymore. She felt ready. Well, mostly.

She let out a quiet sigh, tilting her head back against the window again. “Ok, but like… real talk ? I lowkey wanna kiss her so bad sometimes, it’s patheticn.”

Caroline snorted. “Lowkey ?”

“I’m serious,” Paige groaned. “Every time we’re close I just… I pussy out. Like full body shutdown. Brain empty, confidence gone, nothing left but static.”

Aubrey cracked a grin. “Just say you wanna fuck her too while your at it.”

Paige sat up straight, face blazing. “No ! I mean—what ?! No !”

Aubrey held up her hands, laughing. “Relax, it's a joke.”

Caroline was wheezing. “God, your face. That was amazing.”

“Yea, it’s because I don’t wanna—” Paige stopped herself, fumbled for words, then covered her face again. “Bruh, I’m just gonna not say anything about that.”

The laughter softened a bit. Caroline shot her a sideways look, gentler this time. “Anyways, stop overthinking it. If you feel it and you think she does too, just don’t wait forever.”

Aubrey stretched out, grinning. “Yea. Worst case scenario, she beats you to it and you end up the nervous mess.”

Paige groaned. “Perfect. Encouraging and embarrassing.”

But underneath the teasing, something settled in her chest. Maybe this time, she really was ready to stop holding back.

—------------------------------------------

The team dinner that night after they landed in Knoxville had finally wrapped up, the noise of laughter and clinking plates fading as Paige slipped back into the quiet of her dorm room. KK and Ice were sprawled on the couch, scrolling through their phones, while Paige tossed her jacket on the bed and pulled out her phone.

She thumbed open her messages, her fingers hovering for a moment before typing.

Paige: heyyy dinner was pre wild with the way kk was trying to steal the last pizza slice off ice

A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared.

Azzi: 😭 sounds like a disaster

Azzi: hope ice survived the invasion

Paige smiled, then glanced at KK and Ice.

“Hey, you guys gonna keep sitting there or go to annoy the others ?” she asked.

KK stretched and smirked. “Damn right. We’re gonna go stir up trouble with the others. They’re probably bored without us.”

Ice grinned. “Catch us later, peace out.”

They got up, grabbing jackets and tossing a “Later, P boogers !” over their shoulders as they headed out.

Paige settled back on her bed, fingers itching to type again. She paused, then went for it.

Paige: wann ft ? 

Paige: i kinda wanna see ur pretty face before i knock out

Her heart skipped when the typing bubble popped up almost immediately.

Azzi: nawww sure 🤭

Azzi: lemme js find my charger 

Paige grinned, already imagining that smile lighting up her screen.

The Facetime screen connected with a quiet ding, and Paige propped her phone up against her pillow, settling back as Azzi appeared.

Azzi was curled up on her bed, wearing a loose tank top and soft grey pj pants, her hair tossed up into a messy bun that somehow looked effortlessly perfect. A pair of glasses perched on her nose as she adjusted her charger.

Paige blinked. Her brain stalled for a second.

“Hey P,” Azzi said, voice warm and casual as she sat back and pulled her blanket over her lap.

Paige smiled a beat late. “Hey.”

“You good ?” Azzi asked, 1 eyebrow raising behind her glasses.

Paige cleared her throat, shifting slightly against the headboard. “Yeayea, just… tired. Long day.”

Azzi gave her a look that said uh huh, sure, but didn’t press.

Paige reached for her water bottle, more for something to do than out of thirst. Her fingers fidgeted with the cap. She couldn’t stop looking at Azzi. Something about the way her collarbone peeked out from the tank top, the lazy slouch of her posture, her bare legs tucked under her—it was casual, normal, completely innocent.

But Paige’s thoughts were anything but.

She tapped the edge of the bottle nervously. “You look pre comfortable.”

Azzi glanced down at herself, then back up with a small grin. “It’s pajama hour. You know how it is.”

“Right,” Paige mumbled. Her eyes dipped for a second too long before she looked away quickly, pressing the cold water bottle to her cheek like it might ground her.

Azzi tilted her head. “What time’s final practice tomorrow ?”

“Uh—” Paige blinked. “Eight I think—Oh wait, nine. Then a quick film right after.”

Azzi nodded, shifting her weight and adjusting the blanket again. “And the game’s Sunday, right ?”

“Yea. Early.” Paige tapped her knee restlessly. “We’ll head straight to the airport after. Should be back on campus around like… nine or ten-ish ?”

Azzi’s expression softened. “So I get you back Sunday night ?”

That made Paige smile, even as her stomach flipped. “Yep. Lucky you.”

Azzi smirked. “Lucky me.”

There was a small pause. Paige chewed her lip, trying not to stare too hard at the soft lines of Azzi’s neck or the way her glasses kept slipping down her nose only for her to push them back up with one finger.

It was stupid how hot she looked while doing absolutely nothing. Just existing.

“Hey,” Azzi said suddenly, her tone light but curious. “You sure you’re ok ?”

Paige blinked again. “What ?”

“You’re just… fidgety. More than usual. Did you drink like four gatorades at dinner or something ?”

Paige let out a sharp laugh, then immediately regretted it. “No, I—I’m just tired. Brain fried. Also KK dared me to eat a pepperoni slice with ranch and chocolate syrup on it, so I might still be recovering.”

Azzi winced. “That’s foul.”

“Yea, she’s a menace.” Paige shifted again, tugging her hoodie sleeve over her hand. “Anyway, I’m just kinda out of it.”

Azzi hummed, still watching her. “Well, I’m glad you called.”

“Yea ?” Paige asked, quieter now.

Azzi nodded. “It’s nice. Seeing your face. I feel like I haven’t really seen you in days.”

Paige’s throat tightened. “Same.”

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt like the kind that only happened when 2 people were a little too aware of each other.

Azzi glanced down at something in her lap and then looked up again, blinking slowly. “You should sleep soon tho. Big weekend ahead.”

Paige exhaled. “I know.”

“You’re gonna kill it,” Azzi said firmly. “Like, I have zero doubts. I wish I could’ve come.”

Paige smiled faintly. “Me too.”

There was another pause, softer this time. Azzi yawned quietly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. The movement made her tank top slip slightly off 1 shoulder. Paige’s eyes darted away instantly.

Focus. You’re just friends. You’re not allowed to think about kissing her. Or holding her. Or—

Azzi’s voice broke through her thoughts again. “Alright, lover girl. You should get some sleep.”

Paige froze, then narrowed her eyes. “You did not just call me that again.”

Azzi grinned. “I absolutely did.”

“Disrespectful.”

“Affectionate.”

Paige couldn’t stop smiling even as she groaned and dragged a pillow over her face. “Ok, goodnight before I combust.”

Azzi laughed. “Night, Paige.”

“Wait—”

Azzi raised her brows. “Yea ?”

Paige peeked out from the pillow, cheeks pink. “Thanks for answering. I… kinda needed that.”

Azzi’s expression softened again. “You don’t have to thank me. I always want to see you.”

Paige swallowed.

“Goodnight for real,” Azzi said, almost in a whisper now.

“Night,” Paige echoed.

The screen went dark, but Azzi’s image lingered behind Paige’s eyes like a brand.

That tank top. Those glasses. The way her voice dipped when she said goodnight.

Paige groaned softly and flopped fully onto her back, draping her arm across her eyes like it might shut her brain off. It didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse.

Her mind wandered back to how Azzi looked on that screen. The low lighting. That lazy grin. The way her tank top slipped off her shoulder like gravity itself was teasing Paige. And the glasses ? Unfair.

She shouldn’t be thinking about how warm Azzi’s skin probably was under that blanket. Or how soft her lips looked. Or what it might feel like to have Azzi curled up next to her in real life instead of on a screen.

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, dragging her hands down her face.

Get it together, P

She turned over, yanking her blanket up, as if hiding under it might smother the thoughts threatening to spiral. Her stomach was tight with heat and longing, a low buzz under her skin that made her feel restless and kind of insane.

She flipped again. Huffed into her pillow. Tried counting down from 10.

She made it to 7.

And then—

The hotel room door swung open with a loud click, and KK’s voice burst into the quiet.

“P BOOGERSSSS ! You still alive in here ?”

Paige practically jolted off the bed, heart slamming as she shoved her phone under her pillow and sat up like she hadn’t just been having thoughts she shouldn’t be having.

Ice followed behind, holding a half-finished smoothie and kicking off her crocs. “Damn, she really was gonna fall asleep without us.”

KK flopped onto the other bed dramatically. “You facetiming someone ?” she asked, eyeing Paige’s slightly rumplef blanket and pink-tinted cheeks with too much interest.

“No,” Paige said too quickly. “Just… laying down.”

Ice smirked but didn’t say anything, already scrolling through her phone as she pulled her hoodie off.

KK raised an eyebrow. “Right. Totally laying down and not thinking about someone.”

Paige threw a pillow at her. “Shut up.”

KK laughed, muffled behind the pillow now clutched to her chest. “I’m just saying.”

Paige shook her head, trying to keep her face neutral even as her heart still raced from both the Azzi thoughts and the sudden intrusion.

The girls settled down eventually—Ice plugging in her charger, KK kicking her legs under the covers and the lights went out with a soft click.

Paige turned toward the wall, blanket pulled high, letting the cool fabric soothe her skin.

Her pulse slowed, her body finally settling, the storm in her head dulling to a quiet ache.

Azzi’s voice still echoed in the back of her mind, soft and close.

I always want to see you.

Paige exhaled, eyes fluttering shut.

She let herself fall into sleep with that sentence cradled against her chest like a secret.

—------------------------------------------

The next morning, Paige’s phone buzzed quietly beside her bed. She blinked awake and smiled when she saw Azzi’s name glowing on the screen.

Azzi: morning p💗

Azzi: did u end up sleeping straight away ?

Paige smirked, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Paige: morning az💗

Paige: js stayed up for a few more mins thinking abt some stuff 🙃

Azzi: mhmmm sameeeee 😭

They kept texting between breakfast, break, and before Paige’s practice, lil messages popped up such as a quick joke, a reminder to drink water, and a few goofy selfies.

Later, after practice, Paige found herself scrolling through Azzi’s messages during downtime, the corners of her mouth tugging up at every text.

Finally, unable to resist, she typed out:

Paige: i miss u azziiiiiiiiiii poo poo

The reply came almost instantly:

Azzi: i miss u too paigeeeeeeeeyyy pee pee

Paige’s chest warmed with a quiet joy. She wasn’t sure how this whole thing had happened but she didn’t want to question it. Instead, she let herself enjoy it.

That afternoon, while wandering around Knoxville with a few of the girls, Paige’s eyes caught something colourful behind a shop window. A gigantic stuffed unicorn, its pastel pink mane, Azzi's favourite colour, shimmering faintly under the sun, stared back at her with oversized, glittering eyes.

Without thinking, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture, then sent it to Azzi with a message:

Paige: this giant majestical beast of a unicorn reminds me of u 

Paige: too magical for words

Her phone buzzed quickly:

Azzi: NAWWWWW THATS ADORABLE🥹

Azzi: + ure impossible🫠

Paige smiled, then slipped inside the shop while the others continued chatting outside. She paid for the unicorn quietly, tucking the receipt in her pocket. It would be a surprise for Azzi—something sweet and silly she could bring when she returned back to Storrs.

—------------------------------------------

By the time dinner was over and the team had trickled back to their rooms, Paige had changed into her favorite green pj pants and a black nike sports bra as the room was a little humid, and she couldn’t be bothered with a shirt. Her hair was still damp from the shower as she crawled into bed, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warm air.

KK was in the corner chair with airpods in, humming along to some song, and Ice was already passed out, hood up and blanket over her head.

Paige reached for her phone. 

Paige: u up ?

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

Azzi: always

Azzi: everything alr ?

Paige grinned, thumb hovering for a second before she typed again.

Paige: i js wanna talk to u

Paige: if ur not too tired obviously

There was a pause this time, longer than usual, and then—

Azzi: ofc js gimme 2 mins

Azzi: ft ?

Paige’s stomach did that stupid thing again.

She typed back:

Paige: yes pls

Paige glanced over at KK

“KK,” Paige said, low but firm.

KK looked up, pulling an airpod out.

“I’m about to be on a call,” Paige said, stretching her legs out and crossing one ankle over the other. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

KK grinned immediately. “Define stupid.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “KK.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Don’t start,” Paige warned, holding up a finger just as her phone rang with the incoming facetime. Her stomach flipped as she tapped her screen to answer.

Azzi’s face filled the screen, her curls were tied up messily, skin glowing, sweatshirt slightly slipping off 1 shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, voice a little raspy, eyes immediately locking on Paige.

Azzi had fully intended to say more. Something casual. Chill. Maybe a sarcastic comment. But her brain short-circuited the second she took in the sight before her.

Paige, leaning back against her pillows in those familiar green pj pants, the waistband riding low on her hips. Sports bra hugging her just right. Skin still a bit wey from her shower. Collarbone and shoulder blades defined, arms resting behind her head like she didn’t even know what she looked like right now.

Azzi blinked. “Um.”

“You good ?” Paige asked, eyes twinkling, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She knew.

“Yea,” Azzi cleared her throat, shifting slightly on her bed. “Just—long day and that.”

“Mhmmmmmm,” Paige said, smug as hell.

Azzi was about to retaliate with some smartass comeback when KK launched herself across the room and popped into frame behind Paige grinning.

“HEY GIRLYYYY.” KK yelled, nearly knocking Paige’s phone out of her hands. “Wus good ?”

Azzi laughed, recovering fast. “What are you doing ?”

“I just had to come say hey,” KK said, like it was her duty. Then, without even pausing for air, she turned to Azzi with a wicked glint in her eye. “Yo, did Paigey here tell you what she said earlier ? To me and Ice ?”

Paige froze. “KK, shut the fuck up—”

“She was staring at one of your ig posts like she was in heat,” KK continued gleefully, ignoring Paige completely. “She said—‘How is she real, like be fucking serious. She’s actually so fine it pisses me off.’”

“Kamorea.”

Azzi blinked fast. “Wait, what ?”

“Oh, and then Ice was like, ‘She’s so obsessed she’d legally change her last name without even dating her,’ and Paige just groaned and rolled off the bed like she couldn’t take it.”

“You’re actually gonna die,” Paige muttered, reaching for her pillow.

“Oh nonono,” KK said, backing up but laughing hysterically. “The world deserves to know the truth. You’re so gone for her—OH SHIT !”

Paige had flung her pillow with precise aim, hitting KK square in the face. But KK just doubled over, cackling.

Across the room, a muffled groan came from under the blanket.

“You idiots are too fucking loud,” Ice said, voice groggy.

KK whipped around. “Ice ! Back me up ! Tell Azzi what Paige said earlier.”

Ice pushed her hood back with a dramatic sigh, rubbing her eyes. “Paige said Azzi looked so good it made her want to walk into traffic.”

“What the fuck,” Paige said, propping her phone onto the bedside table as she lunged at KK.

Azzi burst out laughing, nearly dropping her own phone as the chaos on Paige’s end escalated instantly. Paige tackled KK to the floor, both of them shouting and wrestling, tangled in limbs and blankets and limbs.

“Take it back !” Paige yelled, straddling KK and trying to pin her down.

“NEVER,” KK wheezed, laughing uncontrollably. “THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE—PAIGE, STOP—I’M TICKLISH !”

Paige took full advantage, fingers jabbing at KK’s sides mercilessly. “Say you’re lying.”

“I CAN’T—YOU DID SAY IT—FUCKEN STOP—ICE HELP ME !”

And because Ice was Ice, she stood up, stretched like she had all the time in the world, and said, “Yea, ok,” before walking over and joining the pile. She plopped down on KK’s legs and poked at her ribs while Paige continued her tickle attack.

The 3 of them were a mess on the floor—yelling, laughing, tangled up like idiots.

Meanwhile, Azzi had flopped onto her back from laughing so hard, the phone now propped up against her pillow as she watched the absolute trainwreck unfold on the screen.

But in between fits of laughter, her eyes kept drifting. Kept finding Paige.

The way the hotel light hit warm and low, casting soft shadows on her. Her back arched slightly as she wrestled KK, the definition in her arms and abs on full, distracting display. Her cheeks flushed from laughing, from moving. 

And Azzi. 

She was not ok.

She was laughing, sure, but also not at all paying attention to anything KK or Ice were yelling now. Her face was warm, throat tight, and she had to actually look away from the screen for a second to collect herself.

When she looked back, Paige had finally pinned KK down and was breathless from laughing, hair a mess and a wide grin on her face.

Azzi swallowed.

“You guys are so dumb,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray how flustered she actually was.

Paige leaned back onto her heels, pushing hair out of her face, and grinned at her. “And yet you still called.”

Azzi shook her head, cheeks aching from smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re hot,” Paige said without missing a beat.

Then, almost immediately, her confidence cracked just a little. “Wait—shit, I didn’t mea—”

KK screamed. “SHE ADMITTED IT—”

“SHUT. UP.” Paige grabbed the pillow again.

Azzi just laughed harder, covering her face with her hand as KK yelped and Ice casually sidestepped the next flying pillow.

—------------------------------------------

After a while, Paige finally sat back on the bed, still catching her breath, hair wild and cheeks flushed from the fight. KK and Ice were still grinning like idiots, exchanging glances.

Azzi wiped a tear of laughter from her eye and shook her head. “You guys are terrible.”

KK grinned. “Hey, we’re just the entertainment. Don’t blame us.”

Ice nodded solemnly. “Yurrr, somebody’s gotta keep the mood light before you two decide to get all sappy n thsat.”

Paige shot them a mock glare but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She glanced back at the screen, catching Azzi’s eyes again.

“So,” Paige said, trying to sound casual but failing, “whatchu wanna talk about ?”

Azzi smiled, cheeks pink. “I dunno. Just… stuff. How your day went. How you’re gonna annihilate that game tomorrow.”

Paige rolled her eyes but felt her chest swell a little. “Stop buttering me up. I’m already feeling the pressure.”

“Good,” Azzi teased. “Means you care.”

They talked quietly for a while, sharing dumb stories from the day, swapping low-key jokes, and just… existing in the comfortable silence between words.

KK’s voice cut through softly from behind Paige. “Hey, Azzi, you hearing this? Paige is basically melting over you.”

Ice snorted. “Dude, they’re basically a puddle over there.”

Azzi laughed. “You two are awful.”

Paige laughed too, then looked back at Azzi, her smile a little softer now.

“You should sleep,” Azzi said gently. “Big day tomorrow. Gotta show out.”

Paige smirked. “I will. Eventually.”

Azzi gave her a look. “No scheming. Just sleep, ok ?”

“Bossy,” Paige teased, but her voice was warm.

Azzi grinned. “Only cause I care.”

Paige’s heart did a tiny flip. “Ight. I’ll go to sleep. Promise.”

“Good,” Azzi said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Night P. You’re gonna kill it tomorrow.”

“Night Az,” Paige said, voice quieter now. “Thanks.”

Azzi ended the call leaving Paige smiling at the quiet glow of it, the room finally still.

KK poked Paige’s side, smirking. “You’re blushing.”

“Piss off, KK,” Paige muttered, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

Ice stretched and yawned dramatically. “Alrightyyyy, I’m out.”

KK threw an arm around Paige’s shoulders. “Same. Let’s get our beauty sleep, girly pops.”

Paige rolled onto her side, sighing. “Yea. Goodnight you assholes.”

“Night Paigeyyy,” KK and Ice chorused, already pulling their blankets up as they all driftrd off to sleep.

—------------------------------------------

The room was quiet, the kind of stillness that came in the early morning. The ac hummed softly, and Ice’s light snoring filled the space like background noise.

Paige blinked awake slowly, groggy and warm under the covers. For a second, she just laid there, listening to the stillness.

Then she reached for her phone, screen lighting up instantly with a few unread notifications. 1 at the top stood out.

Azzi: morning superstar 💗

Azzi: go be great tdy 

Paige stared at it for a second, then buried her face in her pillow with a muffled groan and a grin so big it hurt.

She rolled over, thumbs flying.

Paige: morning az 💗

Paige: u rlly tryna make me soft before a game huh

Paige: it’s working btw

Azzi’s typing bubble popped up almost immediately.

Azzi: naww 😭 

Azzi: wellllll u better cook smth up 

Paige laughed quietly, the nerves from earlier already starting to ease into something steadier. She stretched once, then tossed the blanket off and sat up, already feeling more awake.

Behind her, KK cracked 1 eye open. “Lemme guess. The bae texted you.”

“Shut up,” Paige mumbled, but she didn’t deny it.

Ice rolled over. “Better get moving, game day. Time to be that dawg.”

Paige grinned, already heading for her bag. “Damn right.”

—------------------------------------------

The team had just finished warming up and was now huddled in the locker room, 5 mins before tip-off.

Paige slid her phone quietly out of her bag, careful to keep it hidden from coach and her teammates. Her thumb flicked open the screen.

A new message from Azzi lit up the screen:

Azzi: goodluck p 💗

Azzi:  rdy to watch u cook :)

Attached was a photo of her ipad propped up against her pillow, the commentators of the game and clear—Tennessee Lady Vols vs. Uconn.

Paige smiled, heart kicking up a notch. She typed back fast:

Paige: thank u az 💗

Paige: i will try my best 🙂‍↕️

Paige tucked the phone away, took a deep breath, and looked around at her teammates. Time to bring everything she had.

—------------------------------------------

The buzzer sounded sharp and final as the starting 5 stepped onto the court. The energy inside Thompson-Boling Arena was intense—orange everywhere, the Tennessee crowd loud and relentless. But Paige didn’t flinch. She bounced on her toes, laser-focused, eyes scanning the court.

The ball went up, Jana slapped it back cleanly, and Uconn took the first possesssiob.

Paige caught the ball from Kaitlyn and immediately pushed. Tennessee set up quick, but Paige hesitated only for a second before attacking the right side. 1 hard dribble, crossover left which made the defender bite and Paige glided past her into the lane.

Eurostep. Bucket.

First 2 points on the board.

The next few minutes were a blur of high-level basketball. Tennessee punched back hard. Their guards were quick, aggressive. Their bigs boxed out relentlessly. But Uconn held their ground, moving like a unit.

Ashlynn hit a smooth corner 3 off a drive-and-kick from Kaitlyn.

Sarah snagged a tough offensive board and put it back with authority.

Jana swatted a post-up layup into the stands.

And Paige ? Paige was locked in.

She drove baseline and finished with a reverse.

She pulled up off a screen and drained a smooth midrange.

She stripped a pass clean and went coast to coast, finishing through contact for the and-1.

By the end of the first quarter, it was tied 19–19.

In the second, Tennessee started to press. Their guard picked Paige up full court, trying to wear her down. But Paige didn’t panic. She used her handle like a weapon—tight and quick.

Behind-the-back, change of pace, then a no-look pass to Ice who subbed in for the finish.

In their next possession, Paige hit Kaitlyn on a cut with a bounce pass so sharp it split 2 defenders.

The crowd was loud, but Paige was louder with her game. She scored again on a step-back 3 with a defender draped on her. Net barely moved.

Still, Tennessee wouldn’t go away.

They ran the floor. Hit back-to-back 3s. Got physical inside. At halftime, it was neck-and-neck: 37–36, Uconn up by 1.

In the locker room, everyone was dripping sweat and adrenaline, gulping water and breathing heavy. Paige sat, towel draped over her shoulders, staring down at her shoes for a second before glancing at the screen of her phone. No new message from Azzi this time, but just knowing she was probably busy watching ?

That was enough.

She stood, tossed the towel aside, and looked around. “We got this,” she said simply. Her voice didn’t have to rise. They all felt it.

In the third, Paige came out firing.

She hit a 3 on the first possession, then found Caroline who was now on, trailing for another 3. Uconn built a small lead, but Tennessee clawed right back, feeding their post and pushing transition. The crowd roared with every bucket.

Still, Paige didn’t blink.

The fourth quarter started 59–59.

Every possession mattered now. Every cut. Every switch. Every box out.

—------------------------------------------

Azzi sat cross-legged on her bed, blanket wrapped loosely around her waist, ipad balanced on a pillow in front of her. The stream was clear, commentators in full swing, and the arena noise roaring through her airpods like she was courtside. Her heart pounded with every play. Paige was everywhere, lighting it up, finding teammates, talking on defense. She looked locked in.

Azzi couldn’t stop smiling.

She watched as Paige threaded another pass through traffic, then hit a pull-up jumper like it was nothing. “Let’s go,” Azzi whispered to herself, biting her lip as she stared at the screen.

When the third quarter ended, she stretched her arms overhead, exhaling. “You’re killing it, P,” she muttered like Paige could hear her.

But then midway through the fourth—everything shifted.

Paige caught an outlet pass and took off in transition. She cut right, planted hard and crumpled.

The stream cut to a different camera for a beat, but Azzi had seen it. Paige grabbing her ankle. Wincing. Staying down.

Azzi’s heart dropped.

“Nonono—” she whispered, sitting upright now, her hand flying to her mouth. The broadcast cut back to Paige being helped up by trainers, limping slightly, jaw clenched. She wasn’t putting full weight on it. Azzi could see the pain and the frustration on her face.

Paige didn’t return to the game.

Azzi didn’t even register the rest of the fourth. Tennessee went on a run. Uconn looked shaken. 

Final score: 74–68. Tennessee win.

The buzzer sounded, but Azzi’s attention was on her phone now, thumbs flying.

Azzi: what happened ???

Azzi: r u alr  ???

Azzi: paige PLEASEEEEEEE text me when u can

Azzi: im so sorry abt the game as well

Azzi: but fk that cs i needa know if ur ok ??

No response.

Azzi sat there frozen, refreshing the messages, staring at the read receipt that never came. She paced her room, then tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

Half an hour passed. An hour.

Then just as she sat down again, her phone lit up. Incoming call: Paige.

Azzi snatched it up. “Paige ?!”

There was a pause, then Paige’s voice came through which was soft and a lil scratchy.

“Hey.”

“Are you ok ? I was freaking out—what happened ?”

Paige sighed on the other end. “It’s just a rolled ankle. Not bad. Swollen, yea, but the trainer thinks it’s minor. I just… couldn’t go back in.”

Azzi exhaled, heart still in her throat. “I was so worried. You didn’t text. I thought—God, I thought it was worse.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” A pause. “I just… needed a min.”

Azzi could hear the weight in her voice—the frustration, the sting. “No need to apologise P. I get it. You played your heart out. That loss wasn’t on you.”

“I still feel like shit,” Paige admitted. “I hate being on the bench. I hate watching us lose. And now this ankle’s gonna be a thing for who knows how long…”

Azzi was quiet for a second, then said gently, “Where are you now ?”

“Back of the bus. Heading to the airport.”

“You by yourself ?”

“Yea. Wanted space.”

There was a pause on the other end—then, Paige’s voice, barely above a whisper:

“Can I come straight to yours when I get back ?”

Azzi didn’t even let her finish the sentence.

“Of course,” she said. “Always.”

There was another silence, but this one felt different. Calmer.

“I’ll see you soon,” Paige said.

Azzi nodded, even though Paige couldn’t see it. “I’ll be up.”

—------------------------------------------

The bus rolled quietly into Storrs later that night, headlights cutting through the dark as the team filed off 1 by 1, tired and low after the tough loss. Paige stayed close to the back, wincing slightly as she shifted weight off her injured ankle.

Aubrey and Caroline caught up to her as she gathered her things, their expressions softening when they saw the way Paige moved carefully.

“Hey, we got you,” Aubrey said, stepping forward with a warm smile. “Let us carry your stuff.”

Caroline nodded, already reaching for Paige’s duffle bag. “And what’s that for ?” she asked, gently lifting the oversized, sparkly unicorn plush peeking out from the top.

Paige hesitated, then gave a small, tired smile. “It’s a gift for Azzi.”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow, exchanging a quick glance with Caroline. “Azzi ? Oh, ok. That’s sweet.”

Paige shrugged, “Yea. I’m actually heading to her dorm, if that’s cool.”

“Totally,” Caroline said, slipping the duffle onto her shoulder. “We’ll help you get there before we head to ours.”

The 3 of them stepped out into the cool night air, the campus mostly quiet except for the gentle souns of the breeze through the trees. Paige leaned a little on Caroline as they walked toward the dorms, her ankle throbbing but manageable.

When they reached Azzi’s building, Aubrey smiled again. “Alright, P, we’ll drop this off with you. You sure you’re good ?”

Paige nodded, cheeks flushed from the day and the long ride. “Yea. Thanks for helping.”

Caroline and Aubrey gave her supportive grins before heading off to their own dorms, leaving Paige standing at Azzi’s door with her duffle and the giant unicorn tucked under her arm.

Paige shifted the weight of the unicorn in her arms and pulled out her phone, fingers moving quickly.

Paige: im outside your door :)

A second later, the door opened.

Azzi stood there in a hoodie and shorts, eyes immediately locking onto Paige and then the massive, glittery unicorn she was holding out like some kind of ridiculous offering.

“What— ?” Azzi blinked, then laughed in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Paige said, her voice low and a little sheepish, lips twitching into a tired smile. 

Azzi reached out and took the unicorn like it was made of glass, hugging it close to her chest. “This is… insane. And perfect. Thank you. Seriously.”

She glanced down at Paige’s ankle, the compression wrap still snug with some ice, and then quickly stepped aside. “Come in.”

Paige stepped past her, limping slightly, and Azzi followed, grabbing the duffle bag from her shoulder without a word.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Azzi turned and wrapped her arms around Paige.

Azzi’s chin tucked over Paige’s shoulder, Paige burying her face into Azzi’s neck. They didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just stood there, breathing in each other’s presence.

“I missed you,” Azzi whispered.

Paige’s fingers curled into the back of Azzi’s hoodie. “Missed you too.”

They pulled back only slightly, still close.

“I was so worried,” Azzi said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s face. “When you went down… I couldn’t think straight.”

“I’m ok,” Paige murmured. “Just needed to see you.”

Azzi nodded, eyes shining, then motioned gently toward the bed. “Come on. Get off that ankle.”

Paige made her way over slowly, lowering herself down onto Azzi’s bed and leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched out, ankle elevated on a small pillow. Azzi adjusted it carefully, eyes focused.

“Imma grab a new ice pack,” she said, already heading for the mini freezer.

“Thanks,” Paige said, her voice quieter now, the exhaustion catching up with her as she finally let herself relax in the place she’d wanted to be all day.

Azzi came back a moment later, a fresh ice pack wrapped in a towel. She knelt at the foot of the bed, gently replacing the old one on Paige’s ankle.

Azzi stayed there a moment longer, her hand lingering on the new ice pack, like letting go too soon might make Paige wince again. Then quietly, she stood and climbed up onto the bed, easing in beside Paige with a quiet sigh.

She leaned back against the headboard just like Paige, their shoulders brushing, the soft rustle of blankets settling around them. Without a word, Paige lifted her arm, and Azzi tucked into her side like she belonged there, resting her head gently against Paige’s shoulder.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The room was dim and quiet, lit only by Azzi’s desk lamp, casting a soft glow over the unicorn now perched on her chair.

Paige was the first to break the silence, voice low. “We should’ve won that game.”

Azzi nodded lightly against her. “You were unreal, though. The way you moved and hit those jumpers, ran the offense… it was all you. Everyone saw it.”

Paige gave a quiet breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Doesn’t mean much if we lose.”

“It does to me,” Azzi murmured, lifting her head just enough to look up at her. “You were locked in tonight. It was—God, it was so good to watch.”

Paige’s jaw tensed. “I felt it too. Like, I could feel the rhythm of the game. And then…” She trailed off, glancing down at the bandaged ankle. “I planted wrong. One second I’m flying, next second I’m on the floor.”

Azzi was quiet for a beat, then said softly, “When you didn’t get up, my stomach dropped. I thought—I don’t know. I was just really scared.”

Paige looked over, eyes catching on the concern still etched into Azzi’s face.

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know,” Azzi whispered. “But it’s you. You’re not supposed to be the one getting hurt. You’re the one who gets back up.”

Paige turned her face away, voice cracking just slightly. “I hate that I couldn’t finish.”

“You gave everything you had,” Azzi said, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers, thumb tracing gently along Paige’s knuckles. “No one who watched that game would say you didn’t.”

Paige leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I just wanted to win.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “I know.”

They sat in silence again, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled.

Then, quietly, Azzi whispered, “You’re here now. That’s all I wanted tonight.”

Paige opened her eyes, turning to her.

She tightened her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her a little closer.

“Me too.”

The room stayed quiet.

Azzi stayed tucked into her side, her weight warm and grounding, her head resting just below Paige’s collarbone. Their fingers were still laced together, and Paige could feel the slow, steady rhythm of Azzi’s thumb brushing over hers, over and over like it was the only thing keeping them both tethered to the moment.

But Paige’s mind wasn’t still.

It was spinning—softly, slowly, with a kind of ache that sat somewhere between fear and wanting.

She could feel it rising, curling in her chest, in her throat.

The urge to make a move on her.

She didn’t know when it started. Maybe it had been building since that first night Azzi pulled her into a hug that lingered a second too long. Or maybe since the facetime call, when Azzi’s voice softened just for her. Or maybe it was this exact second, when everything felt a little cracked open and unguarded.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, so loud she was almost sure Azzi could hear it.

She glanced down.

Azzi was looking ahead, quiet and calm, completely still against her.

And beautiful. Not in the way people always said it like a compliment, but in a way that made Paige’s breath catch, like Azzi was the only thing in the room that felt real.

Paige lifted her hand free from Azzi's grasp slowly, hesitating only for a heartbeat before brushing her fingers under Azzi’s chin.

Azzi turned her face up at the touch, eyes meeting Paige’s.

Something shifted.

A silent, slow gravity pulling them in.

Paige leaned down just a little, her hand guiding Azzi’s face toward her. Azzi didn’t resist as she leaned  too, just as slowly, her eyes flicking down to Paige’s lips, breath catching.

There was a pause and then they met.

Soft.

Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s like she was testing the edge of something she wasn’t sure she deserved. Azzi melted into it instantly, her hand coming up to rest lightly on Paige’s chest, right over her heart feeling the way it raced beneath her palm.

The kiss deepened gently, their mouths moving in quiet sync, slow and warm and aching with everything they hadn’t said. Azzi’s lips parted slightly, and Paige followed her lead, her tongue just barely slipping past the edge, tasting her—soft, patient, nothing rushed.

Azzi sighed softly into her mouth, a small sound that made Paige’s whole body pulse.

They stayed like that, kissing in slow rhythm, breaths mingling, hearts loud in their chests.

When they finally parted, it wasn’t sudden. Just a slow, natural pull away, foreheads nearly touching.

Neither of them spoke.

Azzi smiled first—just a tiny, breathless curve of her lips.

Paige smiled back, eyes soft, thumb still brushing along Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi then tucked herself back against Paige as they intertwined their hands again and they just sat there in the stillness, pressed close, eyes shining, lips swollen and hearts steady in the quiet hum of something new.

Paige swallowed once, her eyes flicking down to their intertwined hands. Her thumb rubbed lightly along Azzi’s again, slower this time, almost nervous.

“I never really told you…” Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I kept telling myself it was nothing. That you were just a friend, or my tutor… someone I could lean on.”

Azzi’s eyes stayed fixed on hers, patient and steady.

“But… I think I’ve felt something more for a while,” Paige admitted, the weight of the truth loosening from her chest. “I tried to ignore it. I thought maybe it was just me, or that it would pass.”

Azzi’s lips curved into a soft, understanding smile. “You’re not alone,” she said quietly. “I’ve been feeling it too. More than I wanted to admit.”

Paige’s heart skipped, the tension breaking in a fragile kind of relief.

“So… maybe,” Paige said, breath catching a little, “maybe we should stop pretending this is just friendship. What do you think about… going on a date ? Like, really going out ?”

Azzi’s smile widened, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I think that sounds perfect.”

They both laughed softly, a mix of nervousness and happiness blooming between them.

Before they could say more, Paige reached up, cupping Azzi’s face, and kissed her agin slowly and tenderly.

Azzi leaned into it, returning the kiss with the same gentle warmth. 

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads brushing, Paige let out a small, sheepish breath of a laugh. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I probably should’ve saved the first kiss for after the date.”

Azzi smiled, her voice soft. “It’s ok, I’m glad you didn’t.”

Their smiles lingered, quiet and full.

Then Azzi shifted just slightly, her voice a low whisper against Paige’s skin.

“Wait—before we fall asleep,” she said, pulling back with a small smile. “I gotta take a picture. For the memories. First kiss deserves some documentation.”

Paige blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

Azzi was already slipping off the bed, grabbing her camera from the shelf by her desk. “Cmon,” she said, eyes gleaming as she held it up, walking back toward the bed. “We’re doing two. So we each get one.”

Paige rolled her eyes affectionately, but sat up straighter as Azzi climbed back beside her, camera held out in 1 hand as she leaned in again.

Their lips met just as the first flash went off—soft and smiling into the kiss, the moment sealed in light.

They kissed again for the second photo, slower this time, just as full of warmth. Azzi clicked the shutter and they parted again, both of them breathless with quiet laughter as the second polaroid whirred out of the camera.

A few minutes later, once the pictures had developed, Azzi grabbed a pink gel pen from her desk drawer and took 1 of the prints carefully in her hands.

She wrote the date in tiny numbers at the bottom of the polaroid’s border.

Then, she stood in front of her combo board in front of her desk, where other polaroids were already pinned—all of them including Paige.

She added the new 1 right next to them. The kiss. The beginning.

Paige watched from the bed, quiet, something soft blooming in her chest.

Azzi turned back to her with a grin, holding out the other photo. “Yours to keep.”

Paige took it, smiling down at the image in her hand. Then she looked up at Azzi.

“Thanks Az,” she whispered.

They crawled under the covers together, lights dimming, the world softening as they both drifted to sleep.

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

[riyangiis]

prof nax's snoring problem ─ 1.1k words

professor anaxagoras has hair loss, and he's constantly being made fun of. but he has a problem worse than that, and he would rather die than have it spread around the grove.

professor anaxagoras definitely snores.

the bad thing is, you're the victim of it.

dear hyacine might've accidentally revealed that scholars experience hair loss, there's no doubt that snoring is also in the picture too, right?

sharing surnames and living together has made you happy indeed, but when you were first met with his snores and when it was directly at your ear, you barely slept that night.

as expected as it may be, it pains you to get used to nights of loud snores that keep you awake at night. you only let it slide knowing that the cause is your overworking husband hugging a dromas doll in his sleep.

you can't recall how many nights you stayed up because you couldn't stand anaxa's snoring, even though you were the one to convince him to rest for working and drowning himself in knowledge so much.

you only think about all of those sleepless nights now, in the hallway that leads to anaxa's classroom.

because said hallway is filled with the students' jokes of their professor's hair loss problem, which would then turn into theories of more problems, a lot of them including snoring. you try your best to avoid the students in order to avoid a full-on interrogation.

ever since hyacine's exposing, whenever his students spot the two of you, they would not stop bothering you!

"how did you find out professor anaxagoras had hair loss?" the curious student asked hyacine, but she stays silent knowing the wrath of said professor.. (he does in fact carry a gun with him for discipline.)

"im curious, [name]. what other problems does he have? does he snore?" the kind student asked you, but you too as well stay silent for you do not want your husband to find the students laughing about it, soon to be complaining and trying to find the messenger. (once again, he has a gun.)

"do you want to find out for yourselves?" you reply,

and that was a very, very bad answer. the clueless you would not think that they would take it seriously.

you walk in anaxa's office to see him working on equations or theories again, with some drafts set aside on his table making a mess. you sigh at the sight of him focused and not noticing your presence inside the room.

you walk over to him and tap his shoulder, "anaxa, you should rest now." he turns to you and opens his mouth to make an excuse, although he was met with your worried and sweet expression that he couldn't bear to say no to you.

neither of you noticed the subtle noises outside while walking to your shared room, the cause of them being the same curious students seeking to find an answer, maybe learning that behavior from their teacher.

when the both of you were preparing to rest, the students leaned closely to the wall, listening carefully to hear any signs of snoring but are still met with nothing. just as when they were about to give up─

very loud snore, from anaxagoras.

victory was theirs, for their questions have been answered.

they tried to hold their laughs at the sound of their strict teacher snoring so loudly, then left the place immediately to spread the message to their classmates.

being the sleepless spouse you are, of course you noticed, and you were terrified to see the anger to be formed inside him for being caught and made fun of for doing what is totally normal. yeah, snoring unbelievably loud that you can't sleep is so normal.

you were prepared to hear the whispers and the laughs inside the hallway, not the terror of your husband finding out that the students did such thing.

walking again inside the hallway to find something, you have created the scenario in your head already.

"hehe, did you know that prof nax snores?"

"he's always doing science stuff, i expected it!"

"no but, he snores very loudly!" giggles can be heard between the two girls.

just how you visioned it.

you freeze at the sight of anaxa walking in the other hallway to the classroom, students holding their laughs, you hide behind a wall to see what would happen.

anaxa gets close to a group joking about the same thing, close enough to hear that is. you watch as he stops in his tracks, head turning to the group,

"what is this talk about me.. snoring?" and there it goes.

heads turn away from him, clearly guilty of doing the same. anaxagoras scans the hallway and notices that most students know about it already, while the others are just finding out as the message is constantly being thrown around.

the group turned speechless and stared at the teacher nervously, "and may i ask how did you come up with such thing?"

one of the students, a brave one, answers. "w-we heard it from a lot of people.." anaxagoras stares into his eyes to see any hint of dishonesty, only to be met with fear.

"hmm, i'll have you know that it is nothing but a rumor. students like you should not believe in absurdity so easily." anaxagoras turns away from the group and goes on his way again.

the crowd stays silent. with proof or not, nobody dares to utter a word about it again. because this is about anaxagoras, and he has made it very clear that he has a gun with him countless times.

you chuckled when he dismissed it as nothing but a rumor, because you know well that you are going to hear those noises again. now you are listening to anaxa's complaints about how they found out.

"my students are too curious for their own good, how dare they share such thing that almost everyone jokes about it?" you laugh at the sight of anaxa stressed.

"really anaxa? a rumor? lying is one way to stop the truth from spreading." anaxa glares at you, "tell me.. were you the one to start it?"

"i only told them to find out for theirselves, and look what they did!" your smile grew wider, remembering the group that snuck out to answer their question.

anaxa sighs and holds your hand, "nevermind, it is not in me to care about useless things. let's go to bed."

in all honesty, you should be the one complaining. you had to deal with everything and you were maybe a little happy that you weren't going to be alone with the knowledge of your husband's snoring. now, he denied everything and said it was nothing but a rumor, leaving the students in fear of anaxagoras' anger.

the both of you lay on your shared bed, anaxa immediately falls to sleep, with you hearing the familiar sound of his snoring and seeing the dromas doll trapped in his arms.

professor anaxagoras does snore.

the bad thing is, it's now just a false rumor, and you're left alone having to deal with it again.

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

batfam as fanfic tropes pt 1

ft. bruce, dick, and jason pt. 2

bruce

child’s teacher x single parent i mean that’s literally him. but also i like the idea of exploring his partner’s relationship with his kids

i want somebody to write like a bruce x whoever fic (whoever it is isn’t that important but i’m just saying i do think superbat is fun) with that trope

some college au where like all the kids have taken one of prof kent’s class and they all think he should be their dad

because they don’t want to leave their new dad

they’re hyping bruce up without him even knowing during their office hours

“like yknow prof kent, my dad has a dinosaur”

“oh…that’s certainly…interesting? i’m not sure what this has to do with intro to investigative journalism though”

“you could investigate the dinosaur! actually, we always have a big thanksgiving dinner and our butler, alfred, makes the best stuffing. why don’t you come over and check it out?”

“i’m not sure that’s appropriate of me as your professor. also i’m not sure a dinosaur would be a suitable—”

“you could get an exclusive interview with gotham’s richest and most eligible bachelor? um and we’ll throw in some wayne enterprises secrets too”

“…what was the address again?”

also i think he just gives me enemies to lovers vibes

maybe it has something to do with his canonical relationships

dick

meet cute i think he’s the only one who’s smooth enough to make this not awkward

like it is sort of awkward because this man flirts using puns but i feel like he’s charming enough to make it work

“hey girl are you a booger because i would pick you first” and then rolls nat20

fake dating

i feel like he would agree to it whether or not he actually liked the other person. honestly he might come up with the idea himself

he’s a naturally flirty guy and if he didn’t have a crush on the other person before he’s going to be so smooth with it

but then he spends time with them and he finds himself slower falling for them?

and like even if he ramps up the flirting, maybe tries to be more physical or spend more time with them, he’s not getting his message across and now he’s shooting himself in the foot for agreeing to this in the first place (and not realizing his own feelings and making a move before all of this happened)

but also maybe he’s just dense because he’s not picking up on the fact that they are doing a really bad job at hiding their feelings for him too

ALTERNATIVELY he goes into it already liking them

he thinks he’s going to be soooo smooth and charm them off their feet and then boom they’ll be dating for real

but for the first time in his life he’s stuttering and not knowing what to do and it’s really annoying how even when he’s like that, or maybe because he’s like that, he’s just as cute as he always is

he’s just a lover boy

jason

friends to lovers man seems like he needs to really trust somebody and have an emotional connection with them before pursuing a relationship

also this man canonically cannot flirt and cannot pick up on flirting so i don’t really think meet cutes are gonna work

i’m just imagining they’ve been friends for a while

it took him a really long time to open up. slowly, bit by bit, he reveals more of himself to his friend until he can honestly say they’re one of the people who knows him best

i think one of his biggest fears is not being good enough, like he’ll scare them away with all of his baggage and flaws. every time they have a late night conversation he lets his guard down a little and tests the water. he’ll give them a crumb and see how it goes. honestly, he’s terrified of their reaction but when things go well, he can’t help but want to give them more of himself

i think he’s always had bigger things in his life to worry about other than romance

is he a hopeless romantic? absolutely, if his bookshelf is anything to go by. but i think in some ways he has removed himself from that possibility a long time ago and maybe doesn’t see how he could be at all like the people in happy, loving, stable relationships that he reads about

it’ll take him a long time to realize his own emotions, much less act on them

and because of that, i think

idiots in love would also fit him very well. sorry i just think this guy is emotionally repressed and stupid and if the other person doesn’t figure shit out i don’t think he will either

i sure am roasting him a lot for someone who has a blog dedicated to him

but anyways, i feel like it would take a push for him to confess. whether that be a life threatening injury to either of them or maybe they’re getting too close to another person. i think he would need to come to terms with the fact that he could lose them and then decide that he would rather take the risk than never try

don’t think he’s making a move until he’s at least somewhat sure that the other person likes him back though

this is the best case scenario though. depending on what stage of his life he’s in when he meets somebody he likes, it could very well end up as a

right person wrong time i feel like he's also the most self-sabotaging out of all of them

like even if he met his soulmate, i think what he needs is therapy, not romance and would inevitably end up hurting himself and his partner when it turns out his own issues get in the way of his relationship

like he can't actually be fully vulnerable, not able to balance his work and personal life because what he's doing is so personal to him, not being able to settle down, that type of thing

guys i swear i want him to be happy

m.list | next >

[angel-writes-skz-here]

Seduction

Prof Minho x Student! Reader Synopsis: Minho's harsh words come back to bite him. A surprise guest visits you on campus, and life alerting decisions are made Warnings: SMUTTT, masturbating (m & f.), unprotected p in v (be safe!), pet names, oral (f receiving), angst, i think that's it. A/N: Omg i'm so surprised with how much love this lil fic has gotten! Thank you guys so much! Part 4 will be wild but for now, relish in part 3! As always, leave a comment to be added to the tag list!

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Consequences

Minho was a cold, calculated man. He didn’t normally take unnecessary risks, he wasn’t one to usually give into carnal desires whenever they hit, but y/n? She made him tick; and that terrified him.

He was so volatile around her, despite the way he held onto his composure. He let her suck him off under his desk in public for crying out loud. And the worst part, he wanted it just as badly if not more than she did. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her. The way she felt wrapped around him, the way her walls squeezed him as if she was made for him and him alone. His body ached for her, and to keep himself from going down a path he knew led to nothing but destruction, he used who or whatever he could.

He sat on his couch, cock in hand as he thought of you. The way your body was always exposed in some way or fashion, the way you showed him your panties or cleavage when ever you could, to try and rile him up. The way your hips swayed simply when you walked and didn’t realize he was paying too close attention. The way he would watch as your lips curved up in a smile when he seen you around campus with your friends. The way he would do anything to hear you laugh uncontrollably, like the day he shot you a look for it because it was disruptive.

Your name falls from his lips as his hand quickens, hips lifting into it like you’re above him. It doesn’t take long for him to finish, and he doesn’t have long, before he has to be back in time for your class.

-

He walks in, eyes flitting to your seat, a sickening feeling in his stomach. He tried to reason with himself. You weren’t taking the hint; he didn’t want you.

Err

He couldn’t have you. Which to him meant he couldn’t want you, because he knew himself too well. As good as he could resist, it couldn’t last. He tried being nice, tried to correct you softly, but you wouldn’t relent. He had to be mean. Had to be forceful. He had to scare you. That’s what he reassured himself of every time his heart ached when he thought of the look on your face when you left his office.

His class starts to file in, noticing you’re not in at your normal time, he furrows his brows, deciding the leave the door open an extra few minutes. Minho begins class, eyes constantly flitting from your seat to the door, ultimately leaving the door unlocked for the full length of class, just in case.

As he drones on, he can’t help but wonder where you are. Since the beginning of the year, you hadn’t missed a single day of his class. Maybe you were sick, maybe you just needed time.

However, as one day turned into three weeks, Minho was getting worried despite his better judgment. He’d emailed you a week ago saying you needed to come to class or you would flunk out. He never heard back, never seen you on campus, and his worry was eating away at him.

Had he been too harsh?

Was he too mean?

After yet another missed class he pulls out his cell phone dialing your number. Today he had to take attendance, and it was the second of three you could miss. He tried to be lenient, give you time, but he still had a job to do.

He waits, listens to it ring and hears your voice.

“Hey this is y/n, leave your message at the beep.”

Beep

Minho ponders hanging up for a moment, but clears his throat.

“This is Professor Lee, I’m calling to inform you that you need to come back to class. Your grade is quickly dropping and I’m willing to help you make it up, but you need to be here to do so. I expect to see you tomorrow for class, you can’t afford another missed attendance or you will fail my class.” He hangs up, guilt blooming in his chest.

-

You feel your phone vibrate seeing a voice mail you pick up the phone and press play. Minho’s voice cuts on and as quickly as it began, you cut it off. You holed yourself up in your room for a few days before going to your other classes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back to Psychology. Not yet.

His words still ring in your head.

‘Y/n that’s all it was, I used you for my own personal release. Because that’s all you were good for.’

The last sentence cuts deep. Sure, it was a one-night stand, you told him to use you, but you were never supposed to see him again. He was meant to be a good memory; a ghost. Nothing more.

He didn’t have to look so wicked when the words fell from the lips you desperately wanted to kiss. The words echo in your skull, tears welling up in your eyes once again.

Later that night you hear a knock at your door. You drag yourself out of bed, hair a mess, eyes puffy, clothes frumpy.

You open the door and see a face you weren’t expecting.

“Hayden?” you ask shocked.

“Hey, y/n.” he smiles.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I missed my girl, and wanted to come see you.” He pulls you into him, kissing the top of your head.

“Technically I’m not your girl,”

“Y/n, we’re on a break while you’re here. You’re still mine, and I’m still yours, regardless of any meaningless one-night stands or stupid drunken mistakes.” He reasons as he walks into the dorm with you. Guilt pangs your chest; even if you are a single woman.

“But I’m here, so let’s do something. I missed you like crazy.” He cups your face placing a kiss on your nose. That’s when he sees your face. Your eyes red and puffy, and the little sniffle you do.

“Woah what the hell happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. Come on, I’ll get dressed and we can go get something to eat. You gotta be starving.” You smile.

-

Minho is in his office late that night, thoughts of you weaving through his mind. He really has started to miss you, in spite of your teasing, he missed your presence. Something about you, while entirely frustrating, was fun. Challenging even. You weren’t like the other girls who would pine from afar.

You aren’t turned off by his harsh exterior, or you weren’t, until you were.

He exits his office, heading to the student center to grab a bite to eat before making his way back home. He steps inside the large cafeteria-esque room eyes scanning the room to see his array of choices when his eyes land on you for the first time in weeks.

And you’re with someone.

A boy.

He feels a pang of jealousy rise up. He hasn’t seen you in weeks, granted not that he deserved to for any other reason other than he was your professor. But still, his curiosity peaked. He could see your body shake with laughter as he walked to your table; social graces be damned.

You feel his presence before you see him, and when he walks up to the table, your body goes rigid.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Glad to see you’re still alive.” He says sarcastically.

“Professor Lee,” you say as you can feel your ex boyfriend’s eyes on the two of you.

“I’m Hayden,” he speaks up reaching out to shake Minho’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he flits his eyes to the boy.

“I hope you being out and about means I’ll be seeing you in class tomorrow.” You quirk a brow before scoffing at his audacity and shrugging your shoulders.

“If I have it my way, this pretty little lady won’t be going back to class.” Hayden smirks and Minho’s body goes rigid, his own brow lifting before he turns his attention to your ex.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, this lil vixen here’s got me going crazy. She may be too sore,” he snickers and you are helpless as you watch Minho grab him by the collar and pull him up, their noses touching.

“Do. Not. Speak. about her like that. Do you understand me? Or we will have problems.” He seethes. Hayden’s eyes are big as saucers.

“It was a joke man,” he stammers before Minho lets him go. Hayden’s face is in utter shock as your mouth hangs open.

“Ms. Y/L/N I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” Minho says with a nod of his head as he walks away like nothing happened.

You and Hayden share a look.

“What the hell is his problem,” he shoots a glare Minho’s direction. You follow Hayden’s eyes, noticing the way he stands there in line, cool, calm and collected; your heart racing in your chest.

“No clue,” you lie.

-

The next day you walk in the door as Minho turns to make his way to it. You see a faint smile on his face, until Hayden walks in behind you.

“My seat is up front, so sit here and chill.” You tell him. You make your way down to your seat and sit down opening your laptop.

Minho starts his lesson, eyes flitting between you and Hayden the whole class. It goes by smoothly, no disruptions, no teasing from you, you’re rather stoic and composed. Nothing like what your professor is used to. Minho finds himself missing your antics.

The bell rings, and Hayden walks up to you helping you pack your things away before you turn on your heels to leave.

“Y/n!” Minho calls out. You sigh.

“I need to speak with you this afternoon, please come by during my office hours,” he casually requests, “Alone.” He narrows his eyes at Hayden who looks confused.

“Yeah, whatever.” You say as you take his hand in yours, Minho’s stomach in knots at the sight; disgust filling his entire being. He’s losing his grip on reality little by little, only this time, it’s not due to your teasing.

-

You knock on Minho’s door.

“Come in,” he calls out to you.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Minho’s eyes rake over your body, noting the sweatpants and loose t shirt, tied up hair and glasses.

“What no short skirt today?” He asks, brow quirked.

“Excuse me?” Your brows furrow as your voice is sharp and warning.  

“You heard me.” He says without looking away from his computer.

“Have a seat, we need to discuss your grade.”

“Am I failing?” You ask with a certain air of reservation as you sit in the leather seat. The thought of him bending your math teacher over the very desk he’s sitting at plays in your head, harsh emotions daring to pop up

“Almost,”

“But I’m not?”

“Technically no,” Minho sighs.

“Then there’s nothing to talk about.” You stand up and make your way to the door.

“Y/n,” he breathes pinching the bridge of his nose.

You don’t turn around, you can’t.

“If you miss one more class of mine you’ll have to retake it and you being here on a student visa means you don’t exactly have the time to do that. You need to get your grade up.” He scolds lightly. A hint of softness in his voice.

“I have homework, Professor Lee. If I’m not failing, I’ll be fine. No one said a diploma needed an A plus average.” You go to turn the knob but a hand presses against the door. You can feel the heat radiating off him just behind you.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you,” he says in your ear, voice sincere. You smile cynically.

“Why? All I’m good for is to be used.” You bite back. He sighs.

“Y/n, please.” His hand tentatively moves to your hip. Your breath hitches as your eyes shut, the way his hand feels on you is unreal. It’s like a livewire; electric and dangerous.

“I need to leave.” Your voice is quiet. He moves his lips to your ear.

“Please come back to class. I don’t want to see you fail.” He pleads and for a moment you think he’s sincere. You shutter as his breath hits you and his lips ghost your ear.

Without another word, you open the door and quickly escape his grip; head spinning in confusion.

-

Over the next week Hayden stays, the two of you getting visibly close again. He meets Duri, follows you to other classes, stays by your side almost 24/7. But as time does, it goes and the week comes to an end.

“I’m just saying, you could come back home with me, if you wanted to.” He says as he packs his suit case.

“Hayden, I can’t leave,” you chuckle but the way he looks at you, you can tell he’s serious.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“You can study social work anywhere; it doesn’t have to be here.” He reasons.

“No, but I’m not just here for school, it’s a chance to travel, get to know other cultures and understand other backgrounds and heritages. It’s a way to expand my knowledge in the real world too.” You explain.

“I’m just saying, you don’t seem too happy. You keep saying nothing is wrong, but I can tell something is bothering you, I just don’t know what.” He sits down on your bed.

“You take midterms in a few weeks, pass those and you can transfer colleges to one in the states. Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” He says before placing a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes close as his lips touch your forehead. You fist his collar, bringing his lips to yours in a deep and messy kiss, your hands threading through his dark hair, breath mixing as you try to pull him closer.

“God, I hope this means you’re coming home soon,” he says against your lips.

“It means I want to fuck you before you leave.”  You breathe as you capture his lips again.

“And get Minho out of my head,” you think to yourself as your back hits the bed.

-

Its two weeks after Hayden leaves, the thought of leaving has been floating around in your head more and more. As much as you want to stay, seeing Minho everyday is hard. Even if you transferred classes, there are days where being on the same campus as him hurts.

You decided last week to go home, you were able to get a flight out Saturday morning, the morning after your big birthday bash. Duri had promised to make it a birthday to remember and that you guys would stay in touch even if you were half a world away.

Thankfully mid terms meant you were holed up in your dorm studying all week, and it was the last day of testing, and your birthday. Which meant after your psychology midterm, it’s party time.

The midterm comes, and as you take the test, your eyes flit to Minho’s desk, where his eyes are on you almost every time, and he doesn’t look away, he doesn’t smile, just stares. You pull your eyes away from him, trying to focus and finish your test.

-

Back in your dorm, you’re double checking everything, making sure you don’t forget anything. You leave your suit cases by the door as you look at your self in the mirror one last time, smiling to yourself. Tonight isn’t about Minho or the drama that seemed to surround the two of you, it’s about you turning nineteen and having a blast.

-

The party is in full swing, alcohol, sweaty college kids, and substances as far as the eye could see; powders lined tables, pills littering rooms on the carpeting. You’d come with Duri who unfortunately got sick not long after you arrived and you decided to stay without her. It’s your birthday after all. And the boys are making sure you feel special. You have a sash around you that says birthday girl, pink and white, matching the pretty pink bodycon dress that left very little to the imagination.

The music thumps as you brace on the keg, everyone shouting as they lift you up and you drink from it, your feet in the air. The party slowly started to blur, alcohol reaching your blood, that fuzzy feeling kicking in. You’re stumbling around the party, giggly from the second-hand smoke.

“I gotta go home,” you slur to one of Duri’s friends, Taehoon.

“Come on, y/n the party has just gotten started.” He slings an arm around your shoulder. You giggle as you lean into his side.

“Mmm, got a flight to catch,” you stumble as he keeps an arm around you as you walk.

“Ugh, at least have one last good time before you go?”

“No more drinks.” You shake your head. You’d managed to stay away from most of the drugs, until Taehoon holds out a little pink pill.

“Whatssit for?”

“Motivation,” he smirks. You furrow your brows but hold your tongue out flat for him.

“Ah, look at you. Such a good little girl,” he mocks as he places it on your tongue.

“Now swallow,” he instructs as you do so.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You begin walking down the road when about ten minutes into the walk you start to feel funny.

“Y/n?” you hear your name being called. Your vision is slightly blurry; you rub your eyes.

“Professor Lee. How’s my favorite teacher?” the boy kisses up to him. Your heart thrums in your ears as your vision begins to clear again. Feeling only a little dizzy.

“Fine, I see how you’re spending your evening.” He gestures to you. He halfheartedly laughs it off.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Minho asks as you start adjusting your dress, suddenly very overwhelmed by the material.

“I should probably get her home,” the guy begins to walk.

“I’ll make sure she gets home, Taehoon. Go back to your party,” he says and you feel a firm grip come around your waist. His hand burns against your body, despite the dress.

You furrow your brows and look down, noticing it. Before Taehoon can utter a response, Minho is pulling you with him.

“Woah- hey!” you shriek as he pulls you off in the direction away from the house.

“You mind tell him me why you’re touching me!” You struggle against him, but he only holds you closer to his side not answering you.

“Let me go,” you wiggle in his grip but your body begins to feel warmer. You make a few grunting noises, followed by a few whines, as your body gets uncomfortable.

“Here, get in,” he holds the door open for you. You sit in the seat, still squirming, a slight pulse being found between your thighs. You can feel the sweat cling to your body, your thighs squeezing together trying to soothe the slight ache in between them.

Minho gets in, hearing the quiet whimpers watching as you keep adjusting and re adjusting your dress. He can see the way your chest is heaving.

“Are you ok?” Minho asks, his hand find its way to your thigh to grab your attention.

You practically moan at the contact. Your face flushes when he looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“’m s-sorry,” you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your hands not to go where you want contact the most.

“What’s going on with you? You’re sweaty and you can’t sit still. What the hell did you take?”

“I don’t know,” you whine hips grinding into the car seat.

“Hurts,” you whimper as you shamelessly try to dig your hips into the seat, begging for friction.

“Woah- shit,” Minho curses as he watches you.

This isn’t good.

He pulls up to his house just off campus and helps you inside. You can’t control the small whines and whimpers, your body feeling as though it’s on fire.

“What are we doing here?” you ask between whines.

“Just a precaution, so I know you’re safe.” He says closing the door behind you.

“Fuck,” you whimper out as you squeeze your thighs together and tuck your face into his neck.

“Minho it hurts so bad,” you sob into his neck and he takes a deep breath. Your hot breath on his neck isn’t helping matters.

“Ok, let’s get you into a bath. That should help you cool down.” He gently leads you to the bathroom. You’re grabbing at your dress, desperate to be free from the suffocating material. By the time you’re in the bathroom. It’s half way down, your chest exposed to the cool air of his house.

Minho is doing his best not to look at you, keeping his eyes forward.

“Go ahead, I’ll start the water.” He says as he deliberately doesn’t look at you. You step into the water, the contact from that not helping. You moan as you sink into it, the water not cooling you off any, but feeling good against your flesh. His lips purse as he turns his back and as his hand is put on the knob, he hears it.

A small gasp before an uncontrollable moan leaves your lips. He freezes, the sound going straight to his cock. He grabs the knob, forcing himself out and slams the door behind him.

How long would you play these games? Was it all a set up? Had you done this on purpose? He warned you and yet here you were, testing him. He could hear you, the moaning getting louder, whimpering turning into full on screams as your fingers worked against your bud, begging for release. And when he hears it, how pretty you sound when it hits, he’s done for. His lip is bleeding from how hard he’s chewing on it. The house goes quiet, and Minho wills himself to turn the TV on. Maybe you were ok now.

Maybe.

You sit in the tub, the burn, sting, and desire not even hardly fading. You’re gasping for air, body writhing in the water. You can’t make it stop.

You force yourself out of the tub, not even bothering with clothes or a towel, drying off so you don’t drip water, and walk out to see Minho sipping his tea in front of the tv. When his eyes cast to your body, he chokes on the tea as the cup is taken away from his lips in haste.

“What the fuck y/n. What did I not make clear to you, I,”

“Minho please,” you whimper, tears brimming your eyes at the red-hot feeling of your body.

“I can’t do it myself I tried, I can’t,” you cry as you lift up your long acrylic nails, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just,” you gasp looking for the words, “ I need help,” you let the tears flow and Minho furrows his brows.

Holy shit. You aren’t kidding.

“What, I, what do you want me to do?”

His voice is shaky, unsure, as he stands up and comes to shield you from the light and vulnerability in the room.

“Please, just, touch me, make it stop.” Your bottom lip pouts and he can’t hold himself back anymore.

Minho’s lips find yours in a needy hot kiss. His hands go to your waist automatically and you gasp, the feeling electric. He pulls you to his bedroom, pushing you back on the bed as he begins to pull at his tie. He flings it across the room, along with his shirt.

“This is just to ease your pain,” he lies to you and himself. Sure, that was the excuse, but Minho knew sooner or later he’d give in.

You’re sitting up on your elbows as you watch him remove his shirt before hovering over you.

“Just lay back, and trust me, ok?” He strokes your cheek with a gentleness you haven’t seen before, both present in his touch and his eyes.

His lips find your collar bone, leaving open mouthed kisses behind. He can feel you squirm beneath him, as he trails kisses down your stomach he watches you through his lashes; no teasing, no harsh movements.

He settles between your thighs, fingers spreading you open, tongue immediately circling your bud.

You gasp, back arching off the bed, hand flying to this head.

“Ah-ha,” you choke out, eyes screwing shut, His tongue is quick, firmly pressing against you. Your hips quickly start to grind against his face.

“P-please, ah, fuck yes, please Minho, fingers,” you sob out as you hold him close to your core. He does as you instruct, slowly inserting one finger into your hole, curling it and pumping it.

“Fuck,” you shriek. Your body could hardly keep up with how good everything felt, how overwhelming it was. He adds another without warning, keeping his pace.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as you feel the tight coil in your belly. As he works you up to it, he holds your thigh; fingers pressing into it so hard you know there will be bruises the next morning. Your coil explodes in your stomach, euphoria hitting every single nerve ending. You gasp for air, feeling the burn start to fade. Your chest rises and falls as Minho cleans you up with his tongue.

“Fuck you taste so much better than I imagined,” he says to himself. You’re too busy trying to see straight to hear him. He kisses your mound, up your pelvis, nipping at your hips and sucking at them a little, lips trailing back up to yours.

“Taste yourself,” he says as he holds your jaw between his thumb and other fingers firmly, forcing you to look at him.

His nose, lips and chin are shiny as he comes down to connect your lips, his tongue freely moving in your mouth. You moan as your taste hits your taste buds, his tongue massaging yours.

Your hands go to either side of his neck, the two of you kissing each other as if you’ll disappear from one another if you stop. So, you don’t. You breathe against each other, tongues dancing together in an intricate and intimate dance.

Minho finally pulls away, lips kiss swollen as he looks down at you, chest heaving as yours does.

“Feel better?” he asks pointedly.

“A little,” you say sheepishly, head still fuzzy. He purses his lips, getting off you and walking out of the room. He comes back with a rag, words not being spoken as you rise up back to your elbows watching him clean you up. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t smile or say a word, just cleans. You watch him leave, and he’s gone for a moment, bringing you back a shirt of his and a pair of his boxer shorts.

“You can wear this tonight, and I’ll take you to your dorm in the morning.” He says coldly.

“Minho,” you call and he stops, facing the bedroom door, listening.

“I, I want you to stay,” you admit before slipping on the shirt.

“Please,” you whisper before pulling your hair out of the collar. You slip on the shorts and he sighs.

“Y/n that’s not a good idea.”

“Please, I, I’m freaked out. I don’t wanna be alone and I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Your voice is audibly desperate and scared.  

“You were drugged with something, I just don’t know what.” He tries to stay distant, but his voice gives away his own concern.

“Minho, please, I’m scared.” You reach out and touch his arm. He turns to look at you.

“Fine, only because you’re scared, but this changes nothing.” He admonishes.

You nod and crawl into bed, cuddling up next to him.

Little did you know, Minho could and would hold you forever if he was able to. Fate simply didn’t seem to want to give him that chance.

Or maybe it did, and he was scared to take it.

About thirty minutes later, Minho sound asleep, it’s back. The burning desire, the want, the way your clit catches at the subtlest squeeze of your thighs and you can’t help but hiss at the contact.

You groan into your pillow, Minho waking up to your small but constant movements. He rubs his eyes, looking at you, desperately trying to rut into his mattress like a bitch in heat.

“What the hell is going on?”

“It’s back,” you moan, your bud catching just right.

“And it’s worse, every little thing feels like it’s setting me on fire,” you groan as you toss the shirt off again.

“Y/n, stop.” He tries to still your hips, but you can’t, you won’t. You need release.

“I’ll make you feel better. Just stop,” the words stop you in your tracks.

You slip the boxer shorts off, Minho slipping his own off, cock springing free.

“Lay down,” he instructs as he fingers your core, gently pumping in and out, feeling how wet you are.

“Fuck,” he growls. He gets a condom from the bedside table.

“No, please, I need as much of you as I can, please, I’m desperate,” you stop him. He sighs as he drops the condom down on the table leaning down to kiss your lips as he lines himself up at your entrance.

You feel the tip push in, and you gasp, the feeling better than words could ever describe. He pushes in slow, letting you feel the way he fills you up, wall to wall. You shudder against his shoulder as he bottoms out, both of your foreheads resting against the other’s body.

“Fuck I forgot how good you feel around my cock,” he whispers, stroking your hair. Your words are gone, the feelings intense.

“’s good, so good, please m-move, I want it,” you babble and he shushes you. Your hands grip his biceps as he slowly pulls out, only to quickly push himself back in, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Tell me what feels good, Kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, voice gentle.

“Harder,” you say as your lips attach to his neck, sucking a bruise to the base of it. His hips buck into you harder, your nails scratching down his back as his hips pound into you.

“Fuck, faster, please,” you pant. Minho knows exactly what you need, and he can’t give it to you this way. He pulls out, you whimpering at the loss of contact before he flops you on your belly.

He grabs a fist full of hair, angles your hips up, and rams into you, causing you to scream in pleasure.

Your eyes roll back into your head, skin on skin echoing in the room amongst your cries of pleasure. Minho pulls your body up against his, your back to his chest as he thrusts, both of you panting as you chase your highs.

“Kiss me,” you breathe out. He connects your lips in a sloppy kiss, tongues gliding, moans being swallowed, your fingers tangling in his hair as his comes around and hold you by your tits, fingers circling your nubs.

“You want me to touch you?” he asks against your mouth. You can only whimper in response.

His left arm hooks around you, hips still going, as his other hand snakes around finding your puffy clit.

“Ah, fuck,” you hiss as he begins to rub it.

“Fuck, fuck, it’s too much,” you sob.

“You can do it, Kitten. You wanted to get fucked, don’t be rude. Take what I give you,” he instructs in your ear. The overstimulation is crazy, your hips grinding down against his cock, walls clamping around him like a vice.

“Aww, fuck,” he growls as feels it, lips attaching to your shoulder. A few tears stream down your face in pleasure as he rubs faster and harder, and your hands grip his arms as your orgasm rips through you white hot. Stars in your vision as your body violently shakes around him, Minho pulling out, helping you lay down, before pumping himself quickly, making himself cum.

His sounds are heavenly and you watch the sight before you, a lazy and satisfied smirk on your face.

You watch his chest rise and fall, his eyes slowly dragging over your frame until they meet yours. You see the smallest smile on his face. He grabs the rag from earlier, wiping himself clean before leaning over and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

“How do you feel now?” he smirks.

“Much better,” you smile as you kiss him again.

He takes the rag to the bathroom, feeling content with his life for once. He gets another rag to re clean you up, and when he comes back, you’re body is limp, eyes half lidded.

“You’re tired,” he teases as he uses the cloth to clean up the second mess he’s made tonight. Your hips jolt as he touches your clit.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he takes his time before placing a kiss to the top of your thigh.

“You’re still gonna stay with me, right?” you call out.

“If you want me to,” he says as he enters the room. He slips into the other side of the bed, pulling you to him, nestling you in his warmth.

He kisses your forehead, silence blanketing you.

“You ok?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” you murmur.

“Do you need anything? Water, snack, space?”

“Nope,” you say as you grin up at him. You take the time to memorize his face. His dark eyes, brown hair, soft sweet skin and lips. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek for a moment before you place a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Good night,” you whisper as you turn around in his arms.

-

The next morning the sunlight shines into the window of Minho’s bedroom. He squints his eyes, looking around the room. Memories of last night come flooding in as he feels the sheets against his flesh. But you aren’t in the bed. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants.

“Y/n?” he calls out.

No response. He notices the shorts he lent you last night on the floor, but the t shirt is nowhere to be found.

“Y/n!” he calls again.

Nothing. He checks the rooms, but doesn’t find you.

He walks into the kitchen, seeing a note on the counter.

Thanks for the release. It was all you were good for.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thatonegirlonhere @thelovelybireader @channieehrtz @voicesinmyhead-rc @girlblogger-04 @sea1884 @kissesmellow21 @lily409 @kttb @esterxioo @pinkkiluvvmina @slutformyloveleeminho @yaorzu-blog @only14hsng

Do not repost my work

Love notes and comments are greatly appreciated!

[23victoria]

vibes

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: cussing, unwanted touching, bestfriends to lovers

authors note: i listened to vibes by chase atlantic when i wrote this last night really quickly cause i’m so behind on requests. so i’m so sorry if it’s shit! not prof read so sorry for any mistakes, also wrote this on my laptop and not my phone so i think grammarly made auto corrections, sorry about that, any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

wanna be apart of my taglist?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

The night's buzz is almost overwhelming as you step into the club, the electric energy in the air matching the high spirits of everyone around you. Max had just secured yet another victory and the entire crew decided a night out was the perfect way to celebrate. You’ve known Max for years since you started working as a commentator and interviewer for F1. The two of you clicked instantly, forming a close friendship that grew stronger with time.

But despite the late nights spent together, the countless inside jokes, and the deep conversations shared after long race weekends, there’s always been something unspoken between you. You’ve watched Max go through a relationship, and break up, and now, for some time, he’s been single. It’s been even harder lately to ignore the feelings you’ve harbored for him, but fear of ruining your friendship keeps you silent.

The music pulses through the room, and laughter fills the air as you weave through the crowd with Max by your side. He’s in high spirits tonight, smiling and laughing with everyone, and you can’t help but feel a warmth spread through you seeing him like this. His happiness is contagious, and for a moment, you let go of your reservations and join in the fun.

The music pounds through the speakers, the bass reverberating in your chest as you dance with your friends, lost in the carefree atmosphere of the night. You’re trying to immerse yourself in the moment, to let loose and enjoy the celebration, but something keeps pulling you out of it. You can feel eyes on you, and it’s making your skin crawl. Every time you glance around, you see him—the guy who’s been hovering near you for most of the night, his gaze too intense, too invasive.

You try to shake it off, telling yourself to focus on having fun. After all, you’re here to celebrate Max’s victory, and you don’t want anything to spoil the night. But then, out of nowhere, you feel it—his hand on your waist. It’s like a bucket of cold water has been poured over you, the chill of his touch instantly snapping you out of the moment. You tense up, your body going rigid as alarm bells start ringing in your mind.

You immediately step away, trying to put some distance between you and him, but he’s persistent. He follows, his hand still on you, tightening his grip as he leans in closer. The smell of alcohol on his breath hits you, making you recoil.

“Please, stop touching me,” you say, your voice firm but polite, hoping he’ll get the message and back off. For a moment, it seems like he does—his hand drops from your waist, and he takes a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. You force a smile, relieved that it’s over, and try to get back into the groove of the music, but the unease lingers.

Five minutes pass, and you start to relax again, laughing with your friends as you dance, the earlier tension beginning to fade. But just as you’re starting to enjoy yourself again, you feel it—his hand, creeping back onto your waist. This time, it’s more insistent, more possessive, as he tries to slide it lower, fingers brushing dangerously close to the edge of your dress.

Your blood runs cold. Panic surges through you as you try to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you in place. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anger bubbling up inside you.

Before you can react, a familiar presence looms over you, and suddenly, the guy is yanked away from you with a force that sends him stumbling back. Max is there, his usually calm and collected demeanor replaced with a fierce, protective anger. He grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close until their faces are just inches apart.

“What the fuck are you doing? Huh?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Max’s voice is sharp, a dangerous edge to it that you rarely hear. His blue eyes blaze with fury as he stares the guy down, every inch of him radiating anger. “Didn’t she tell you to stop? So why the fuck are you touching my girl?! 

The words hang in the air, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His girl. Max just called you his girl. The realization hits you like a freight train, but there’s no time to dwell on it as the bouncer arrives, having noticed the commotion. 

The guy stammers out a half-hearted apology, but Max isn’t having any of it. He pushes him away, standing protectively in front of you. The other drivers, who had been enjoying themselves a moment ago, are now watching intently, ready to back Max up if needed. But the bouncer is already there, having noticed the commotion.

“Get this piece of shit out of here,” Max orders, his voice leaving no room for argument. The bouncer doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the guy and dragging him towards the exit. You can’t help but feel a mix of relief and embarrassment as everyone’s eyes turn back to you. The adrenaline from the confrontation has left you shaken, and all you want to do is get out of there.

“I think…I think I’m going to head home,” you say, your voice a little shaky. The rest of the group immediately offers to leave as well, but you shake your head. “No, you guys stay. Have fun. I just need to get some rest.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Max says, his tone leaving no room for argument. You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to ruin his night, but he cuts you off. “Y/N, I’m taking you home. End of discussion.”

You know better than to argue when he’s in this mood, so you simply nod, letting him lead you out of the club. The car ride is silent, the tension thick between you. You keep replaying the events of the night in your head, trying to make sense of Max’s reaction. The way he called you “his girl” to the guy has your mind spinning, but you don’t dare bring it up, unsure of what it means—or maybe too scared to hope.

When you finally reach your apartment, you hesitate before getting out of the car. “Do you…do you want to come up?” you ask, your voice almost timid. Max looks at you for a moment before nodding.

“Sure.”

Once inside, you head to your room to change into something more comfortable, grateful for a moment to gather your thoughts. Meanwhile, Max busies himself in the kitchen. When you return, you find him making a sandwich, a small, amused smile on his face when he notices you watching.

“I figured you might be hungry,” he says, sliding the plate towards you as you sit at the counter. The two of you eat in silence, the weight of everything that’s gone unsaid hanging in the air.

It’s you who finally breaks the silence. “Max…about tonight…”

He looks up at you, his expression unreadable. “What about it?”

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what’s been on your mind since the moment he stepped in to protect you. “You called me ‘your girl’ back there. Why?”

Max’s eyes search yours, and for a moment, you see something in them—something deep, something vulnerable. He sets down his sandwich and leans across the counter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Because…because that’s what you are to me,” he admits, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve always been my girl, Y/N. I just…I never had the guts to say it. I was afraid of messing things up between us, but seeing that guy…seeing him touch you, I just…I couldn’t stand it.”

His words leave you speechless, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy washing over you. You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long, but you never thought you actually would.

“Max…are you saying…?” you trail off, too afraid to finish the sentence, too scared to hope that this could actually be happening.

He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a long time. I just…I didn’t want to lose you by telling you.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your heart racing in your chest. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face, and you squeeze his hand.**

“I love you too, Max,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve loved you for so long, but I was too scared to say anything. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his face breaking into a wide, relieved smile. “God, we’re such idiots,” he laughs, moving around the counter to pull you into his arms. “All this time, and we’ve both been too afraid to say anything.”

You laugh too, the sound filled with a mix of relief and happiness. “Yeah, we are,” you agree, resting your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “But at least we finally figured it out.”

Max pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “And now that we have,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with emotion, “we have all the time in the world.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with love for this man who’s been your best friend for so long, and now, finally, something more. “Yeah, we do,” you agree softly before leaning up to press your lips to his.

The kiss is slow and tender at first, both of you savoring the moment that’s been a long time coming. But soon, it deepens, the pent-up emotions from years of unspoken feelings pouring out. Max’s hands cup your face as he kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go, and you melt into him, feeling like you’re finally where you’re meant to be.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, and you can’t help but laugh again, the joy bubbling up inside you. “We really are idiots,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “How did it take us this long?”

Max chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m just glad we finally got here.”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him again, and this time, the kiss is filled with promise—a promise of a future together, of all the moments you’ll share now that the truth is out. And as you pull him closer, feeling his arms wrap around you, you know that this is just the beginning.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @magixpracticality @eoduuung @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @demyackerman @oledoledoffen @acesbakery @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[cupcakeinat0r]

A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class.

pt.3

Prof. O’Hara who now tutors you on certain weekdays. You two have grown close, not afraid to exchange little glances here and there throughout class. Nothing wrong with this, right? Just a wholesome friendship, something Miguel and you remind yourselves all too often…

And when he tutors you, he’ll sometimes migrate to the back of your seat while you practice formulas, and he’d rake his thick fingers through your scalp lovingly. You’d close your eyes, leaning into him, his belly acting as your pillow as he messaged your head and finger-brushed your hair. He’s speaking softly to you, going on and on about genetic variations and whatnot but you aren’t getting a single word, yet you hum ‘mhm’ occasionally just so that he feels like you’re listening.

Granted, if someone were to walk in and see you two like this, it would surely end in a mess, but truthfully, it was an innocent act. It was intimate, yes, but he didn’t think there was any harm in playing with your hair while he tutored. He just wanted to make sure his fav girl was relaxed while learning.

After he took you out to grab a snack when you broke down, you started bringing little treats with you to school so that you could leave them with him after a class or tutoring session. Claiming it was to ‘repay him for his generosity that day’ was only half of it, the other being that you had it so bad for your adorable genetics professor. You find that his guilty pleasure is sweet treats, so that’s how that started.

What you don’t know is that, really, it’s you. You’re his guilty pleasure. He gets so ruffled anytime you leave a little pastry wrapped in a cute bow on his desk. He’d look at the tiny gift as if it were a specimen, unable to do or say anything except clear his throat and fix his glasses as he blurts out a measly “t-thank you, hun.”

Miguel never knew what to do with himself with this new sweet gesture of yours (except maybe pump himself in his office just from the mere fact that you gave him something). It was silly, really. You had this serious grump flustered over pastries.

And you knew he’d surely lose his job if you made any monumental advances, and leaving him treats was the most innocent thing you could afford to do in public, so you settled for this. Besides, it’ll all contribute to his ass DadBod, so it’s a win win.

On the other hand, Miguel didn’t know for how long he’d be able to settle for this or how much longer he can play with your hair. It felt like as the days go by, you become prettier, smarter, lovelier, kinder, sexier…. It was all too much. He had an itch.

One day, the class had a quiz. You had finished earlier than everyone else, and began online shopping while you waited for the others to finish. Miguel was walking around the hall in case anyone needed help, and he noticed you were looking at a certain skirt and top.

He took a mental note of it.

You come into his office the next day for tutoring and find a pink gift bag on his desk adorned by more pink tissue paper.

“Just uh… a little something for all your hard work, mama.” He muttered, the most adorable, shy smile on his flushed face.

You were thrilled to find the skirt and top you were looking at just the day before. You instantly go to hug him, the second time you two would hug. Miguel feels a little more prepared for this one, and this time, even peppers the tiniest kiss on top of your head, your body engulfed in his fluffy arms and soft belly.

That was the first of many gifts to come, and you’d find a gift bag in every tutoring session you had with him from then on.

<3

You’d walk into class wearing the things he’d buy you, inflicting the hardest boner on him when you do. He was like a sick puppy when looking at you, sporting your new necklace, for example. He would get stuck in a dream-like state imagining how it would look dangling, swinging with each pound of his slow thrusting into your tight pussy.

It would be slow. He wanted to treasure you, savor you. An angel like you deserved princess treatment, and he’d make sure that’s what you received. He’d worship you. He’d press a trail of kisses from your sternum down to your pelvic, looking up at you through his bifocals as he does, then removing them just before he makes dinner of your cunt. You’d cum multiple times before he even thinks about fucking you with his own cock, putting your pleasure before his. He wouldn’t be able to stop blabbering about how pretty you look like this, under him. Or on top. He doesn’t care. Either way, he’d babble about how beautiful you are. How good you are for him. How much he wants, no… needs you. He’d be such a loser, but he’d be your loser. All yours.

His fantasies are shooed away, as well as his dazed smile when he sees someone approach you. A boy.

He seems to really like you. He’s a good looking boy. He was closer to your age. He was very fit. Miguel wants to be upset. He wants to be jealous, but… he technically can’t. You aren’t his. Far from it. and maybe it should stay that way. The boy would be good for you. Miguel sees you smile back at him. Sweet girl. You two would make the cute couple. You probably deserve him. Yea…

What was he thinking that he, some science professor who had let himself go, would have a chance with you, the most beautiful girl in the entire world?

A/n: sorry not sorry that I keep edging y’all, Mwheheheheheheh <3 Still, I hope u like it <3

Also, @little-lovelace , looking for this, luv??? <3

Next part (head canons)

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!!

Gna start taggin cuties, lmk if u wanna b tagged 4 next one <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive

@faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob! lando norris x reader

part eighteen: the things we don’t say

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none, i don't think?

seventeen | eighteen | nineteen

It was just… small things.

A canceled coffee run here. A postponed dinner there. Nights where their conversations had to be cut short because Alex was still at the lab, because Y/N had case studies to read, because they were both tired, both distracted, both trying—but perhaps trying less than before.

alex :) : I’m so sorry. I thought I’d be done by now, but my professor just added another round of revisions. Can I make it up to you?

Y/N: yeah, don’t worry about it! i totally get it good luck, and hope your prof gets hit by a minor inconvenience :) 

alex :) : Like a paper cut from an overdue notice?

Y/N: exactly!

It was lighthearted. Easy. But she noticed that, this time, he didn’t say when they’d reschedule.

She stared at the message for a second longer than she should have before flipping her phone face-down and pushing it to the corner of her desk. It was fine. They were just busy. They were still… them.

Weren’t they?

The next time she saw him in person, it was a chance run-in between classes. She was coming out of the library; he was hurrying toward the engineering building, earbuds in, laptop tucked under his arm.

They both slowed at the same time.

“Hey,” he said, breathless. “I was just—”

“Yeah!” she said. “No, I know. It’s totally fine.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking guilty. “I still owe you dinner.”

“You do,” she said, smiling, wanting to mean it. “We could try for this weekend?”

He hesitated just a second too long. “I—can we play it by ear?”

She nodded. But she already knew.

Alex texted later that night.

alex :) : It was nice to see you today. Hope your application stuff went well. I miss you.

Y/N: i miss you too. sorry if i’ve been a little out of it lately. i think everything’s just… speeding up.

alex :) : Yeah. I get that.

alex :) : But we’re okay, right?

She stared at the message a long time before replying.

Y/N: yeah. we’re okay.

In her calendar, she used to write his name in it in tiny ink hearts—“dinner + alex, @ 7pm,” underlined twice. “

alex—art museum!! coffee w/ alex :)

But now, every time she penciled him in, it came with a question mark.

alex?—lunch?? alex (if not lab?)

And more often than not, she crossed it out.

alex :): I swear I was halfway out the door, but my code broke again. Do you hate me yet?

Y/N: i hate your code. not you lol

alex :) : Okay good. Still gonna fix it for the sake of our nonexistent children’s college fund. Then they can be rich trust-fund kids.

She smiled when she read it, before she looked up and realized she hadn’t seen him in eleven days.

On the other side of the city, Lando’s day had started with a broken jaw and ended with a wire transfer to Dubai.

There’d been shouting in the stairwell of a casino he technically didn’t own, but everyone knew who it belonged to. One of his new dealers got the unfounded idea that he was clever and shorted the house. 

Rookie mistake. 

Lando didn’t raise his voice, didn’t throw a punch. He just nodded. Someone else –tall, built, and Dutch– easily took care of the rest.

By noon, he’d signed off on a shipment of pills wrapped in vinyl and a list of clients who owed interest. Daniel was still recovering from his hand fracture from last time, which meant Lando had to deal with three different departments himself and threaten a laundering partner who got greedy and forgot who had made him rich in the first place.

Like a revolving door, it was a constant wheel of motion, always one thing after the next.

It was a lot. 

It was always a lot.

But everything stopped when his phone buzzed and her name popped up.

y/n ☕: can i call you? just for like a minute

He didn’t even hesitate.

“Hey,” she said when he answered. Her voice sounded a bit off, perhaps a little frayed around the edges. “Sorry. I know you’re probably busy.”

“Not too busy for you,” he said, without thinking. And then, quieter, “Erm, you alright?”

She paused, and he could hear it—the hesitation, the exhaustion she didn’t want to admit.

“I just…” she exhaled, her voice barely audible above the cacophony of city traffic in the background. “I haven’t talked to anyone all day. Except my professor. And, uh, he only talked to yell at me. I’m not even sure why, actually,” she laughed, but it sounded wetter than it should have been.

Lando leaned back in the leather office chair of his office, staring out over the skyline. “Did you yell back though?”

“I thought about it, just in my head,” she murmured. “But then I remembered I still need him to write me a letter of rec, so...”

He smiled. “Ah, that’s smart.”

There was a long pause.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Alex in almost two whole weeks.”

That name always landed like a pebble in his chest. Small. But irritating.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, honestly.

“It’s not his fault,” she added quickly, as if she had to protect some unknown thing. “He’s got his thesis. And conferences. And I’ve got the extra course load this term and then with the readings and so it all just—” she cut herself off. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re just...  really busy. People can be busy, right?”

Lando didn’t answer right away, but set the phone down on his desk to pull on his coat.

“I’m ten minutes away,” he said. “Do you want to get food?”

There was another pause.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

She didn’t know that Lando had an envelope full of classified receipts on his desk. Or that he’d just missed a call from someone whose name only ever showed up with a skull emoji in his contacts. Or that he'd been scheduled to be halfway across the city in fifteen minutes to collect on a deal that will most likely turn bloody.

None of that ever had to cross her mind. All that mattered was that she called, and he came.

Lando pulled up outside her building, headlights washing over the entrance as he leaned over to pop the passenger-side door open. She slipping inside easily, muscle memory taking her through the motions so as not too require much effort from her brain.

"Hey," she murmured, a small smile just barely tugging at her lips.

Lando looked over at her, taking her in—loose sweater, hair pulled back in a lazy attempt at a ponytail, and a puffiness around her eyes that indicated either sadness or exhaustion.

Lando’s money was on both.

"Hey yourself," he greeted back, giving her a onceover to make sure she had her seatbelt on. Then, with an easy grin, he added "I thought about being a gentleman and asking if you wanted a fancy dinner, but I figured that would be too much effort for both of us. Plus, you like sushi, and we both know that’s not happening anytime soon."

She hummed, glancing absentmindedly at the road ahead as he pulled away from the curb. "Good call."

It wasn’t long before he pulled into the parking lot of a small gelato shop, one of those spots that had been around for decades, where the sign flickered a little and the menu still had prices from three years ago. The place was mostly empty at this hour, save for an older couple sitting outside, quietly sharing a cone.

"Gelato?" she asked with a raised brow, finally breaking the silence..

"Absolutely," Lando replied, looking visibly resolute in what he clearly believed in. ‘It’s the perfect food.“

She followed him inside, the faintest hint of amusement flickering over her face. He counted that as a win.

Inside, the cold air smelled like vanilla and fresh waffle cones. Lando let her lead the way to the glass display case, where she eyed the rows of flavors like she was studying for an exam.

"You’re… taking this very seriously," he noted, sparing a glance at the menu before looking right back at her.

"This is a big decision, Liam."

His stomach flipped—just slightly, just enough to be annoying. Something about the way she looked under the faint glow of the lit signage reminded Lando of some impressionist painting he helped nick from a private gallery on one occasion. He remembered the painting being of a woman with an umbrella standing under the radiant. It was all painted in soft brushstrokes of blues and whites and yellows — the woman with her dress billowing in the warm breeze, basking in the radiant sun. He’s pulled out of his thoughts by her eager smile, finally ready to order. For a moment, he too feels the warmth of the radiant sun.

She had finally settled on hazelnut, and Lando—who hadn’t really cared what he was getting—ordered the same without thinking. He wasn’t even sure if he liked hazelnut. Didn’t matter.

They took their cups outside, sitting on the curb, close but not touching.

She took a slow bite, staring out into the quiet street.

"I don’t really feel like talking," she admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper. Soft brown eyes peer up at him, still mid-bite with her spoon in her mouth. 

Lando didn’t even hesitate. "That’s alright."

She blinked at him, like she expected something else. Expected him to fill the silence, to pry, to tell her you can talk to me. But he… didn’t.

Huh.

So they sat. Eating their gelato. The city buzzing softly in the distance.

There have been times when Lando feels the darkness of this city surround him, dark and viscous, absorbing the laughter and swallowing the beauty around it. Sometimes it feels like it’s always been that way.

But from where they’re sitting, the city looks different. In this moment, the faraway traffic is white noise, the street lights glimmering like beads on a necklace. The buildings along the harbor appeared to change colors under the dimming light of the setting sun.

This city was beautiful.

Eventually, she nudged his knee with hers.

"You don’t even like hazelnut, do you?"

Lando thought for a moment, bringing himself back into focus before he grinned. "Nope."

She huffed a small laugh. "Idiot."

He just grinned. Because somehow, she was okay with being around him—even when she didn’t feel like being around anyone at all.

Later, when he dropped her off, she lingered with her hand on the door. She wanted to say thank you, but it feels too small. She wanted to say I needed this, but that felt like too much.

So instead, she smiled and said, “Text me when you get home?”

He quirks a brow. “What, you worried about me now? That’s cute.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just shut up and text me.”

Her phone pings with a notification moments after she dozes off on her couch, warmed by the food in her stomach and comfortable under the throw blanket she’d barely managed to haphazardly drape over herself.

liam! : Made it home in one piece. Sweet dreams.

When she blindly reached for her phone the next morning, still trying to blink the sleep from her eyes, she found a text from Alex sent sometime last night.

alex :) : Can we try for dinner sometime? I miss you. For real this time.

She stared at it for a long moment, thumb hovering.

She had missed him. Of course she had.

But when she thinks about how things have been lately…

She’s not sure who she’s missed more: him—or the version of them that existed when they had time.

a/n: i love them ur honor :))

also i love when you guys discuss ur thoughts in asks/comments!! like yes!! lets obsess together!!!

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, Not Feelings! Ch.2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

L x Fem!Reader

Part 1 | Part 3

Ch.2 is finally done hehehe

this fr a slow burn so the plot takes the longest for me to write. SFW (for now, some NSFW in later chapters hehe)

Word Count: 5.7k

Masterlist

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You knew fieldwork wasn’t always chasing bad guys and psychoanalyzing strangers to look for clues, but this was excruciatingly boring. Even more so than you initially thought.

With Light as an undergraduate and you as a master’s student, you shared the criminology building but not the same floors or classes. While he attended large intro-level lecture halls about the basics of criminology, you sat in specialized classrooms with only 15 other students max.

You gently tapped the desk at a steady rhythm and leaned your head into your right hand, watching your prof speak idly while marking up the chalkboard. You should be paying attention and taking notes, but you couldn’t help but watch the red cellphone Ryuzaki had given you sit motionless on the corner of your desk.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Peeling your eyes off the device you notice the rest of the class; staring out the window, doodling in their notebooks, and even a few drifting to sleep. You suck the inside of your cheek between your molars and gnaw gently; the professor continues with his back to the class.

Maybe I should text him? Say ‘there’s no use in a stakeout where I can’t even see the suspect’. But if he feels there’s no point in having me monitor Light, he’ll just have to come to campus and spend time following him instead. And then there would be no point in having this phone-

The realization sends an uneasy pang through your chest, you didn’t want to give up this connection only you had with Ryuzaki. While you were certain that other members of the task force had his phone number or other form of contact, him pulling you aside and personally asking you this favor felt different. Like a shared secret.

Your eyes drift back to the professor before returning to the phone. Taking your head out of your hand and sitting back in the chair casually, you gently lifted the device and lowered it beneath the wooden desk. Inconspicuously, you wake the phone from its sleep mode and open Ryuzaki’s contact.

Ryuzaki:

Please be careful tomorrow. Let me know if anything goes wrong.

        You:

         Will do! I’ll let you know how it goes

                Read ✓

You purse your lips and sigh gently, the ball in your court for continuing this conversation. Scratching the frame of the device absentmindedly while thinking how to respond, your stomach lightly growls in hunger.

Having slept past your regular alarm and only waking up for the ‘get up now or your gonna miss class’ ringtone, there wasn’t any time for breakfast. Waiting a moment, an idea passes through you. Placing Ryuzaki’s phone back on the desk, you reach over into your backpack and dig through it with one hand.

Feeling the cool screen of your actual cell phone, you hastily pull it into your lap and quickly scroll through your contacts. Finally reaching Light’s contact photo creates a stronger hesitation than you expected; L’s suspicion of him weighing heavily on your shoulders.

The same guy who you knew for several years, who went from being your boss’ son to something in between an acquaintance and friend creating a weird dynamic. Being accused of Kira on top of that left an emotion so sour and depressing that you almost felt guilty for watching him without his knowledge.

With a defeated exhale you open his contact and ensure the professor is still occupied with the board before typing out a message, deleting it, and then rewriting until it matches a casual vibe.

You:

Hey Light! I’m not sure if you’re on campus today, but want to grab lunch after class if you are?

I get out at 12

You did know he was on campus today, obviously, but you had to make it seem casual. Like two friends just hanging out. Definitely not one observing the another for a criminal case.

Satisfied with the message you turn to your notebook, now somewhat content with the minimal progress on the case and ready to try to pay attention to the lecture again. The moment you lift your pen a slight vibration hums across your desk.

You blink for a moment, unsure of which phone is making the noise and hastily grab both and slide them onto your thigh before anyone turns to see where the noise is coming from. After a second vibration, you realize it’s Ryuzaki’s phone humming with a notification.

Flipping it over in your lap, you open up the two new messages from L.

Ryuzaki:

How are things going at the school?

Should Watari still collect you later?

Flicking your eyes to the other students and then back at the phone, you hastily type out a response.

        You:

        Light and I don’t have any corresponding classes unfortunately. But I think we'll get lunch together.

After hitting send you can’t help but feel a small swell of pride in taking the initiative in extending an invitation to Light and proactively trying to get some more exposure. The phone vibrates again.

Ryuzaki:

I would advise against that. Unless you regularly get lunch with him, he will immediately be put on guard of your invitation, especially if Mr. Yagami has already informed him of your recent membership in the task force.

Shit.

Your shoulders slump forward slightly in disappointment for not thinking it all the way through. Of course if you suddenly get lunch with Light and then he realizes you're on the task force and he’s a suspect, he’ll never trust you on campus again.

Maybe I can cancel? Say I actually have to meet with my advisor regarding my thesis and I completely forgot about it.

Before you can even answer L, your actual phone vibrates against the denim of your jeans and your heart sinks. You don’t even have to turn it over to know it’s Light, the uneasy feeling like you made a mistake sitting uncomfortably in your gut.

Light:

Sounds good Y/N! Let’s meet at the cafe near the south exit of the school? I can send you the directions.

“Fuck” you mumble.

“I’m sorry did someone have a question?”

Your professor adjusts his glasses, the lenses nearly as thick as a roll of quarters, and gazes across the students. You squeak silently and slump into your seat, trying to look as concentrated as humanly possible at your empty notebook as if you were pondering any of the things he was droning on about for the past 45 minutes.

He blinks and then mumbles to himself before raising the chalk in his fingers to the board once again, “Anyways… As I was saying about Article 3a on the legislation from the 1980 law in regard to -”

*************

The autumn air is cool and refreshing compared to the suffocatingly dense atmosphere of the 5th floor of the criminology building. Leaves scatter the ground and you weave in between students passing, gently nodding to the beat of the music playing in your headphones.

Stopping just before the south exit gate, you step off the pathway and lean against the supporting back of a campus bench. Sliding the red cellphone out of your back pocket, your gaze hovers over where Ryuzaki had warned against meeting with Light. You never answered back in class, too conflicted as to whether to admit to L you made a mistake or tell Light nevermind and raise his suspicion of you regardless.

The wind gently pushes your hair, and you subconsciously cross your arms over your chest to retain some warmth, digging your nails into the fabric of the jacket. With the hand still holding the cellphone, you begin drafting a message to Ryuzaki.

You hunch forward a small amount, still leaning on the back of the bench and delete and then rewrite the message again.

“.. I’ll just meet you later this weekend.”

The conversation itself isn’t what makes you look up, but instead it’s the sound of the voice speaking. Leaning on the bench and facing away from the path blinds your field of vision, but you’re nearly certain it’s Light. Looking down at the unfinished message for a moment, you then shift your weight to the side and turn your torso to face the brick walkway.

It only takes a few seconds for your eyes to catch onto Light, his back turned to you and completely engrossed in a conversation with a woman. You raise an eyebrow and look back at your phone, resigning to send a simple ‘whoops…’ to Ryuzaki, and slipping it back into your pocket.

The two don’t notice when you push off the bench and casually slide your headphones off your ears and around your neck.

“When are you going to take me on that dinner date? You’ve rescheduled twice now, you know.”

You pause slightly. Since when has Light had a girlfriend? You keep walking forward towards the gate exit and make no move to be hidden. Light knows you go here, and if his dad told him about your task force membership, he’s going to be suspicious of anything you do. Assuming that he’s actually Kira.

The best thing is to act like you would always do; snooping around and eavesdropping would be too out of character. You have to go back to just being his friend, and if he asks, you’ll be his friend who is on his side and defense. It’s the only way to actually progress the case.

You continue towards them, ignoring now the steady wave of vibrations in your pocket; each one from the cell phone L gave you.

“I’m just saying it would be nice if you-” The woman catches eyes with you and stops mid sentence, not wanting to continue the conversation with a third party joining.

Light notices and instantly pivots, now noticing a casual smile painted on your lips and slight wave.

“Oh, Y/N! It’s nice that we bumped into each other here.”

“Hey Light! I know, right? I thought my professor was going to hold us hostage in that lecture based on the rate we were going.”

You laugh lightly and turn your attention to the woman next to him, subtly indicating you wanted an introduction.

Light follows the que as smooth as ever, “I definitely can relate to that,” he opens up space for the woman, “This is Takada by the way. We’re classmates.”

You smile at her and extend a hand, immediately analyzing her attire. She had a clean look with short black hair swept neatly to the right with bangs hovering just above a set of storm gray eyes. A tan jacket covers her shoulders and red turtleneck sweater while a sophisticated set of heels boost her height and sit just under the hem of her black slacks. Her posture is perfect and you take note of the softness of her hand in yours during the shake.

“Nice to meet you Takada. I’m Y/N”

“Y/N has been working for my father for a few years, so we’re pretty close.”

You watch Light casually drift further back from her and stand next to you. Ah, I see.

“Light, should we head out now? I only have 90 minutes before my next class starts.”

“Ah that’s right. Yes let’s go,” His voice changes slightly to a higher pitch, “Takada I’ll see you tomorrow?”

The woman glances at Light but focuses on you the entire time, her eyes calculating your relationship to him for a few moments before giving a curt ‘goodbye’ and walking back towards the main campus.

You and Light watch her walk off for a second before walking side by side out of the brick columns of the school’s gate. Act natural Y/N, it’s just Light. Not Kira..  just Light.

“So… Takada?” You give him a slight glance and he huffs while shaking his head and leading you down the main road.

“She’s very insistent on using my time with her. But she’s just a classmate.”

Natural Y/N.

You laugh slightly and wiggle an eyebrow, “Yea classmate hmm?”

Light laughs and gently elbows you in the side, “Oh come on, you know how busy I am.”

The smile doesn’t leave your lips as you both continue walking along the sidewalk, you on the inside and Light closer to the road. The feeling is nice, and for a moment you forget about the case entirely; just enjoying your company and the nice fall weather.

That moment ends abruptly, with now a constant vibration in your pocket indicating an incoming call and not just a text.

Shit. I completely forgot to text Ryuzaki back.

Light looks at you expectedly, “You going to answer that?”

You swallow nervously and look off to the side, “O-Oh, yea..”

Sucking in your bottom lip, you reach for the phone and turn the ID to the side so Light can’t see who’s calling. You give your companion a slight look of acknowledgement before lifting your phone to your ear.

“Hey what’s up! Are you on that date you talked about? Or did he never show?”

The voice is barely recognizable and you can’t even tell it's Ryuzaki until he’s halfway through his message. The emotion and cadence are something like you’ve never heard him speak before; though you’ve only known him a short time.

His message is really in regard to Light, and it’s not hard to tell, but to anyone else it would seem more like a nosey friend.

You grip your phone and catch a glance at Light, who’s gaze remains steadfast on you. Turning your body away you fake a nervous stutter and wave your hands as if the recipient could see them through the phone, “D-Date?! It’s just lunch… nothing that serious.”

Light catches your response and chuckles quietly to himself before you swat at him like you would a friend listening in on your conversation.

With the phone to your ear you can hear Ryuzaki shuffle a bit before continuing, almost as if he was relaying your response to someone else, “Ah I see. That’s good then, I didn’t think a date with that guy was a good idea anyways. Totally not your type.”

You try to ignore the chastise he gives for your lunch plans, and sigh into the receiver. You keep a distance from Light, though this one is more natural given the assumed topic of conversation on the phone.

“This is just a quick bite to eat, can I text you when I’m out of class?”

Light doesn’t mind the conversation, though you can tell his ear is listening to every word you're saying, but his posture is strange. The way his head tilts whenever you’re listening to Ryuzaki’s answers gives the impression he’s trying to discern who’s on the other line rather than decipher what you’re actually saying.

“Okkkk sounds good. Let’s get coffee when you’re out, so meet me at the north exit,” There’s a slight pause and his voice almost falters back to his natural tone, “ You can pick the cafe though, I trust your decision.”

The tone is upbeat and it’s enough to lift some weight of stress off your shoulders; you make a mental note that Watari will be picking you up from the North gate later. You can't help but lean into the phone and smile at his voice, “Yea of course… See you then.”

You stare at the phone an extra second before Light gives you a slight elbow in the side.

“And who was that?” He raises an eyebrow just like how you did before, “A classmate?”

You push him lightly to the side and he lets out a hearty laugh.

“You’re such an ass. And for your information, yes, it was a classmate.”

Light scoffs and rolls his eyes, now crossing the street and pointing to the restaurant sign just a bit a further. He tugs on his bag and looks down at you, “Alright, it must be an important classmate to get you blushing like that though.”

Your jaw goes slack and you raise your hands to your cheeks, unable to tell if it’s to feel the warmth or hide the color of them from Light. Or both. He laughs at your reaction and stops in front of a small cafe, opening the glass door for you to enter before him.

“Geez, I can’t tell if you’re a gentleman or just a dick.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his laugh and simple navigation to an open table is more than enough to solidify the second option.

This whole moment felt so weird and so… nice?. Making jokes with Light after class and getting food, Ryuzaki calling you to make sure you’re ok, thinking about the material for your next class; it felt so normal it almost hurt.

Light glances at you from over his menu and his grin falters when he notices you on the verge of spacing out.

“Is everything ok? Sorry if I overstepped a boundary there.”

You snap back up at him and shake your head gently, now scanning the lunch menu in your hands, “I’m fine, just busy. Got a lot to think about.”

Light nods slightly and gives a brief scan of your surroundings before peering down at his menu casually. His voice is just above a whisper, “I can imagine. My father told me you’re joining the task force.”

He knows. Ok that’s fine, you knew this might happen.

You let your eyes widen in a surprise and glance around the tables to make sure no one can overhear you before turning back to Light, “He told you?”

His eyes haven’t left yours, “Yea, he didn’t give a ton of details,” his face softens but his voice doesn’t change at all, “but I’m glad to have you on the team.”

You sink into your seat and pick at the laminated edges of the menu, your eyes now staring down at the ‘drink options’ section.

“To be honest, it’s one of the reasons I wanted to meet with you.”

Light’s eyes widen slightly; he knew that was the reason but it’s your quick honesty that seemed to be what threw him off. He exhales and places the menu on the table flat, his chin now resting in his left palm.

“I figured as much,” he has a slight smile, “Don’t get me wrong, but it has been like 3 weeks since we last hung out.”

Ok now I need him to think I’m confiding in him and being vulnerable, then maybe… even if it’s just a little… he’ll be able to trust me more.

You raise the menu higher as if you're embarrassed and look onto the floor at your shoes, slowly fidgeting your left foot side to side.

“Well, it’s just..” You suck in a deep breath, “you’re the only one I can talk to about this.”

Light’s face is indiscernible; he's focused and patient for you to continue.

“Aren’t you,” You latch eyes with him, “scared?”

Your confession seems to have genuinely thrown him off and it takes several moments for him to process it fully and respond.

“Scared?”

You nod slightly, “Yea, I mean we’re the youngest members and Aizawa told me someone on the team already died…aren't you nervous Kira might kill us too?”

Light doesn’t move, but his eyes shine with thought and registration, as if he’s searching his brain for a pre-recorded response.

You push again, “I’m sorry, I just don't know who else to talk to about this,” your gaze falls before shooting back up with a panic and your voice raises in awkwardness, “Please don't tell anyone though! I just joined and I don't want them to think I'm getting cold feet.”

Light seems to have caught up in the conversation and snaps out of his thought process, gently resting his hand on yours in support. The feeling of his touch is cold and forced, his fingers press into your wrist like he isn’t aware of the pressure he’s using; it’s nothing like the way L had taken your hand to give you the phone last night.

“I understand it can be scary but,” his eyes are nearly glowing as he speaks, “Kira only kills criminals and those who are brazen in their search for him, which was unfortunate for Ukita. However you and I are different, if we stay stealthy and gather evidence quietly, we’ll be fine. Ok… Y/N?”

It’s almost like the pressure around you both has changed; it’s tense and thick and extremely uncomfortable. The feeling of it nearly makes you crack the character you’re playing and you realize you need to end the conversation.

“Thanks, Light… that really makes me feel better. Sorry for bringing up work things while on our break,” you’re the first to break eye contact and look back down at the menu.

As if a switch is flipped he breaks his gaze on you and smiles before looking around for a waitress to place an order. It feels as if the stranger you were just talking to has switched back to the friend you recognized.

“What was the second reason though?”

You blink and look back at him.

“You said that was only one of the reasons you wanted to meet with me,” he leans in on the table, “what was the second?”

Despite the close proximity you don’t lean back at all and hold eye contact before smiling and shoving him lightly, “I just missed hanging out with you,” you sigh lightly, “even if you are an ass half the time.”

He laughs and you can’t help the grin on your lips, ignoring the way the waitress he flagged over raises an eyebrow at you both and the way your chest still felt heavy.

*************

The sun setting so early creates a wave of depression that envelops you as you watch the glow dip lower and lower despite it only being 4pm. Campus lights have already flickered on, and students huddle in groups, gripping their jackets, heading for the metro station down the road.

You zip your jacket and adjust the straps of your backpack to even the weight distribution on each shoulder, waiting for Watari to arrive. Students pass by the brick columns of the North Exit and you lean against the gate wall for support, watching the cars pass by. Light should still be in class, only scheduled to regroup with the task force an hour after you.

You take deep breaths of the cool evening air and move to take your actual cell phone from your pocket before a recognizable black sedan pulls up in front of you. No one leaves the driver’s seat and you hesitate to approach the car before the window cracks the smallest amount and Watari’s voice pours out, “Y/N, I’m here to escort you to headquarters now.”

You smile and push off the column, slinging a strap off one shoulder and opening the passenger door. You slide into the leather seat and use the momentum to unhook the other strap of the backpack and land it between your feet.

*************

You pass Mogi smoking a cigarette outside and chatting with Aizawa when you enter the hotel lobby; exchanging brief ‘hellos’ with both of them. Following Watari up the elevator and back onto the suite floor, you buzz with slight excitement to get back on the case, to tell L about Light’s behavior. The older man smiles gently at you and leads the way down the hall before opening the familiar room door swiftly.

Without missing a beat you slide your backpack on the floor next to the couch and shimmy out of your jacket and toss it onto the bag. Matsuda is halfway through a vending machine bag of chips and Mr. Yagami sips on a take out coffee cup.

“Hey Y/N, how was class?”

You’re fluffing your hair slightly and smile down at Matsuda, a hand still combing across your scalp, “Oh, boring as ever. I was actually excited to come back.”

Matsuda gives you a grin and holds up his chips, “It’s easy to say that when you’re not here all day. We’re still on a break though, so fuel up while you have the chance”

“I’d actually like to have a quick word before we resume,” Ryuzaki’s voice drifts from across the room, right in front of the bedroom.

I didn’t even know he was there.

Mr. Yagami stands, “I’ll run to the coffee shop outside and grab you a few things,” his hand pats your shoulder while he shuffles on his suit jacket, “Matsuda, let the two downstairs know we’ll resume in 10.”

Matsuda begins to do a slight whine but cuts it short when Mr. Yagami shoots him a sideways glance. The two men excuse themselves and leave the room, leaving you, L, and Watari standing in the living room.

Ryuzaki waits a few moments after the final ‘click’ of the hotel door and turns back to the bedroom, “Come on, we have to be quick.”

You blink at Watari who just looks at you expectedly, and you peel your feet from their spot to walk towards the bedroom door, “But everyone just left..” You slide through the opening, “why do we have to do this in here..?”

By the time you’re in the room, L swiftly shuts the door and locks it before immediately turning to you, so close you can smell the scent of laundry detergent on his shirt. There’s no room to back up and your back flushes against the wall, your hands instinctively raising up in defense.

“How did it go?”

You blink a few times, still pushing against the wall before Ryuzaki walks backwards and leans against the frame of the bed. He doesn’t blink, waiting for you to answer. The distance lets you breathe fully for a few moments, “It was good…?”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to elaborate further, dark hair tickling the apples of his cheeks at the movement.

“In an investigative way and normal way,” Your hands fall to your sides, “He, at the very least, knows more than he’s letting on. His attitude was strange whenever we discussed anything related to the case, almost like he rehearsed all his answers.”

L takes the nail of his thumb between his teeth and looks off in no particular direction, thinking as you speak, “Yes he’s very smart and well prepared for any circumstance it seems. That behavior is rather unnatural for people his age I’d say.”

You run a hand through your hair, “It’s more than that though, I mean I’ve known him for a while,” its almost feels like a guilty confession to admit your friendship with someone now suspected of being Kira, “And the whole atmosphere shifted several times when he spoke. It felt like I was talking to a stranger.”

L nods to a steady beat as you talk, agreeing with your description but now searching for another detail, “You did well at acting natural on the phone when I called.”

“Oh, yea thanks. I wasn’t expecting you to call and change your voice.”

“But you stayed in character, it seems even Light thought you were on the phone with a classmate,” He drops his hand to his side and looks at you steadily, “Does he always ridicule you when you speak on the phone with men?”

You blink once. Then twice. And then rapidly. Words are caught on your tongue and are unable to form a coherent sentence in any language.

L snaps his fingers, “Yes that character there, I assume it’s the one you put on for Light? Do you do that on command?”

Huh? HUH?

The heat of your face could probably fry an egg if you cracked one on your cheeks, “W-what are you talking about?”

Ryuzaki tilts his head to the side and looks earnestly stumped for a split second, the bed post digging further into his hip as he leans.

“I could hear Light mention you looking flustered,” he says while noticing your stumped face, “You never ended the call, it just dropped once you presumably sat on the phone after you entered the cafe.”

The analog clock ticks absently in the background as you stand frozen staring at Ryuzaki and him mirroring the confusion back at you. With any dignity left you shake your head and wave your hands, “it’s not… I didn’t mean to..”

FUCK.

“It has nothing to do with you!”

The tone is loud and you wince as soon as it leaves your lips, the clock still ticking away distantly. L hangs on to your every word and brings a hand up to scratch a section of his bangs out of his face in slight confusion.

“I already assumed it had nothing to do with me. Were we not discussing how you can act flustered in front of Light? Why would you mention m-?”

Your eyes widen and your heartbeat is only one more bpm away from cracking a rib. He stops talking as he realizes the implication of his words, taking a moment to look at you in a slight surprise.

His hand falls back to his side and he lifts his leaned position from the bedframe to hastily walk away, a faint red dusting his cheeks and tips of his ears. Ryuzaki lets out a slight awkward cough, “Anyways, we should uh.. Talk about concrete evidence now..”

You wish the world would swallow you whole, or better yet, if Light really was Kira, that he would’ve just killed you at lunch instead. Remaining frozen in your spot, your eyes follow L walking towards the desk and fiddling with the lid of a cardboard evidence box absentmindedly.

“He’s seeing someone, I think.”

Ryuzaki stops and breathes in to collect himself before turning over his shoulder, “A girlfriend? I don’t believe he’s mentioned this to me..”

“Someone in his class named Takada. I’m not sure it’s solidified, but she seems especially drawn to him. They both stopped talking when I entered the conversation.”

You shrug lightly, there’s a lack of physical evidence to accuse Light of anything, and simply saying ‘his vibe was off’ isn’t proof. L remains looking at you over his shoulder and nods once, “Most men would mention a significant other of sorts, usually not in explicit detail, but at least once or as a reason to avoid doing something.”

“He’s not the kind to be inherently vulnerable about anything, which is weird considering he really enjoys talking about himself,” you mumble the last part but he catches it anyways.

Ryuzaki follows along and takes the corner of his bottom lip between his canines for a moment, “Regardless, if he’s making contact with anyone outside of this group who we haven’t cleared yet, I’ll have Watari increase the security presence.”

“You think she might be the Second Kira? Or some kind of Kira sympathizer then?”

Ryuzaki shrugs and avoids eye contact, now opening the lid of the box and skimming through the manilla folders, “It could be, though Light’s chances of being Kira are already low, meaning Takada's chances are even lower.”

You step closer to L, continuing to talk without really filtering the words out, “I mean, even if it isn’t Takada as the Second Kira, it would make sense if either Kira is a student.”

Ryuzaki slows his movements in interest but doesn’t turn around, only offering a small hum to indicate that he’s listening.

“As in, what if the clue in the Second Kira note wasn’t just Aoyama, but ‘showing notebooks’? Between two students that would be easy to use in casual conversation, sharing notes, so for Kira(s) this would be-”

“Showing each other how the other one kills.”

You pause and stumble slightly, Ryuzaki looking at you with wide eyes. You weren’t sure if you would’ve ended the sentence in that way, but the emotion on his face is too intense to correct it.

He looks at you as if you’ve told him someone just keyed his car, or stole his bike from the campus rack; eyes wide in surprise and mouth slightly slacking downwards.

“We should be extra careful then, right? What if Aoyama is some kind of test for each other?”

Ryuzaki doesn’t answer, though his face is becoming more relaxed and it seems his head is no longer reeling from this potential lead in the case. It's like he solving math problems in his head without even needing to write them out first. You swallow and begin to feel out of place, the clock continues to tick and you give it a sideways glance as you both stand there in silence. It’s definitely been 10 minutes by now.

L blinks abruptly and slides the lid back on the box and prepares to grab the slotted handles on either side, but he turns back to you instead.

“Yes, that would be bad.. But we’ll keep this between us for now ok?”

“The notebook..?”

“Everything. Takada, Aoyama, the notebooks, your-” He pauses and glances off, “Just everything. I’ll give Watari some security instructions and when the time is right, we’ll alert the rest of the group.”

You nod and rub the back of your neck before turning for the door, pausing to placed your hand on the knob; your back facing him, “Sorry about snapping earlier, it didn’t mean anything. Light just caught me off guard is all.”

Ryuzaki’s steps behind you, evidence box in tow, and falters slightly before he stands diagonally behind you.

“Oh, I understand, it must’ve been weird to have your.. boss.. suddenly contact you” there’s a slight pause as he waits for you to open the bedroom door, “Hopefully next time I call, it won’t make you as uncomfortable. Sorry about that.”

Your heartstrings tug at the quieter tone of his voice and you spin around, the door now partially opened.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that I…-” a slight shiver of nervousness runs up your spine and you can feel your face getting hot. Your mouth remains slightly open trying to explain how it actually made you feel.

Wait, how DID it make me feel... the fact that he called... since he was worried? Shit, shit, SHIT

Ryuzaki remains examining your expression, his eyes lingering on yours. There's a ghost of a smile on his face as he nudges the door open wider with his foot, “I think I know what you mean.”

He steps out into the living room and greets a snacking Matsuda on the couch while you stand in the bedroom doorway just watching him walk away. You swear you can almost see the tips of his cheeks and ears red again. Gently grazing your fingers over your cheeks and remaining motionless when your fingertips hum with warmth.

..shit…

[amaikute]

cheer up, baby!

SUMMARY&TAGS: nerd, unistudent !gojo x fem unistudent! reader. established couple, the reader is stressed out abt a grp project, fluff, kissing, petnames: baby, lovely

authors note: A bit self-indulgent lawl my novel study group refuse to read the book which we get graded on our discussions for.. n e ways thank u for the love on my last fic, I love love uni toru with my heart so more to come for sure!

It's freezing. Snow fell all over the campus, dusting the trees and sidewalks in a white blanket. She trudged through the big uni campus, bundled up in her puffer coat, thick scarf, earmuffs, feeling the weight of her frustration in every step she took. There's a project due next week, after sending who knows how many emails to her groupmates about the project, politely reminding them about the deadline for their parts. Yet, she's been in a monologue this whole time, being met with silence.

Her feet led to a stop right in front of Sartoru’s apartment, fixing her thick scarf and trying to ignore the tears building on her lower lashes. Her classmates weren't making it easier for her while already trying to balance her classes, her part-time job, and now this stupid project.

With a soft sigh, she presses the buzzer to her boyfriend's apartment. After a few seconds, the entrance unlocks. She walks in slowly, her footsteps heavy and her shoulders slightly hunched from exhaustion. Her eyes were already glossy, the first hint of tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she looked at him. A soft pout sat on her lips, trembling slightly as she bit down on them, trying to hold it together.

When she reached his floor, his door opened with a click, as if he were waiting for her. There, Satoru was, barefoot in grey sweat pants and a hoodie with some dumb obscure math pun on the front of it. His black rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and his messy white hair had a pencil tucked behind one ear. She must’ve caught mid-study.

“Toru..” she murmurs, a little broken. A quiet sadness is present in her voice.

He pauses, his eyes scanning over her: the puffiness around her eyes and how her head seemed to hang. She never showed up at his place with a look on her face like that, or a defeated air that appeared to replace the more playful air she usually carried. He quickly stepped closer to her.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs gently, stepping aside to let her in. “C’mere.”

She steps inside, shaking off her boots as he shuts the door behind her. He turns to her, helping her unwind her scarf, brushing strands of her hair out of her face before removing her earmuffs. The last to go is her coat, which he zips down with careful hands. As her arms are freed, she wraps them around herself. Satoru hung her jacket in the closet, then reached for her again, cupping her cold cheeks, his thumb softly brushing under her eyes. “Baby, what happened?” he whispers, every word dripping with concern. She tried to speak, but her voice faltered. Her lips trembling before she sniffled, finally choking out, “I’m doing this project, and all my groupmates aren't answering my emails, messages.” She hiccups. “I've been doing everything by myself, and it's due next week, and I'm so exhausted, toru.”

“Shh,” He hums, pressing a kiss to one corner of her lips, and one to the other. “I got you, breathe, lovely.”

“But–

“Nuh uh,” He kisses away a tear. “Worst case, you email your prof and explain what happens if it isn't done in time. I’ll help you draft it, or better yet, I’ll vouch for you myself if I need to.”

She blinks up at him through wet lashes.

Satoru grins, trying to lighten the mood. “We can even attach text receipts and the ghosted emails if we want.”

“But…” she mutters softly. “What if he thinks I'm just blaming them?”

Satoru shakes his head slightly, gently nudging her with his hand on his back until they reach the couch. He sits down, pulling her down, and she drapes her legs over his immediately. “Then try reaching out one more time. Only once, though. But it's Friday night, why let this ruin it?”

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. She melts into him, face buried into his hoodie, inhaling the faint scent of his ridiculously expensive cologne, detergent, and something sweet that always clung to him. His chin rested on the top of her head.

“You deserve better groupmates,” he whispers. “You’re intelligent and hardworking, and even though you're extra pretty when you cry, cheer up, lovely.” She lets a muffled sound into his chest, a half-laugh, half-sob.

“I'll always be here for you.” He murmurs quietly.

“I just wanted to do good on this project,” she sighs, fingers curling into his hoodie. “I don't want to fail.”

“You won't. You just need a break. You've been going at it nonstop.” He whispers back, tightening his arms around.

Her sniffles start to halt, her breathing steady as she sinks into him.

“And in the meantime,” he said, resting his cheek against her hair. “You're staying right here with me all night.”

“But I didn't bring anything over to sleep in?” She mutters.

“Good think I bought you a emergency pair huh?” he smirks, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She titled her head at him, puffy brown eyes meeting sharp blue ones. “You're weird, Toru..”

“Incorrect, I'm just prepared for anything s'all.” His words earn a soft giggle, a smile sitting on his lips.

“There's my girl,” he coos, a stupid grin on his face. “Missed you.”

She looks up at him, something genuine and warm sitting on her face, “thanks toru.”

He leans down to press a kiss to her lips, slowly and carefully. “Always, lovely.”

© amaikute '25

[goodgirl-i]

SILENCE.

part 3. paige bueckers x fem! reader

part 1.

part 2.

Silence is the ultimate keeper of secrets. It speaks volumes if you just listen.

Paige plays for UConn, and you're casual acquaintances through KK. It's all been stolen glances, run-ins at practice, then at home games. And hanging out with the UConn team. You and Paige are always so close, yet so far away.

A notification from Paige. Surprise. Your fingers start flying over the keyboard, trying to figure out what to reply. At that moment, everything else loses meaning except Paige—everything except her message.

“Hey, P. I’m okay, thanks for the compliment! But honestly, you’re more like him. You know that yourself.”

Meanwhile, a couple floors down, Paige is screaming into her pillow. KK is laughing out loud at her reaction. Yeah, your compliment about Paige might seem like just another thing, but it’s your compliment to her. That’s why it means so much to her. KK hints to Paige that you two should meet up, find a reason, and spend some time together. Paige gets that too, but hearing it from the outside makes it easier to think clearly.

Because of all the training, extra doctor visits for check-ups, and many absences, they’re justified, obviously. But one professor is really strict about the missed classes, so Paige needs to take a couple of tests for the first semester—which she missed. She doesn’t have the notes, but someone else does. That someone is you.

A perfect excuse to meet up at least twice: first, so you can give her your notes, and second, so she can return them.

“Hey, I’ve got some issues with one subject from the first semester—I’m behind. Can I borrow your notes?”

Instant reply: “Oh, that. Yeah, I’ve got them. I remember the prof yelling at the stragglers. You can come by tomorrow morning, I have class starting at the second period.”

“Thanks so much!! I’ll definitely stop by. I owe you big time.”

And there it is—that warm feeling spreading between you two. KK feels it too, because her two favorite girls are together. Almost.

Morning. Somehow, your alarm didn’t go off. A knock at the door wakes you up. You jump out of bed—after all, you promised Paige the notes yesterday. You throw on some shorts and a t-shirt. (Let’s say you were sleeping in just your underwear, because hey, I like it that way, haha.) You open the door, and there she is—the blonde girl, wearing a UCCon hoodie, Nike sweatpants, hair tied up in a high ponytail. When you open the door, she’s looking at her phone, about to call you. In a second, her eyes shift from sad to full of joy.

“Hey, good morning,” Paige says with a sweet smile, her eyes studying you. “Oops, sorry for waking you.”

“Ah, no worries. Come on in, I’ll find the notes you need,” you say, stepping aside and heading to your desk.

Paige looks around your room. Above your desk hang photos of KK, from Uccon matches, with their women’s basketball team. The photo of your ex is right in the center—where you’re kissing. You broke up before New Year’s. She studied in a neighboring state; you rarely saw each other, but it was intense. She wasn’t very kind to you—it was a painful love. You suspected she cheated on you. Yeah, it was bad. Enough said.

You turn to Paige just as she’s staring at that very photo. You lose your mental composure, sensing her thoughts drifting deeper into that situation. You tear the photo off the wall and toss it into the trash under your desk.

“That’s my ex. We broke up before New Year’s. I always wanted to take that photo down, but…” you start.

Paige interrupts softly, “It’s okay, you don’t owe me any explanations.”

“Thanks,” you say, turning back to hand her the notes.

“Thank you. I owe you,” Paige says, pausing at the door. She hugs you gently. You hug her back. You feel the height difference between you. Another sharp memory flashes in your mind—those same kind of hugs with your ex at the start of your relationship. You feel weak, your body tenses up in the hug. It’s hard to keep control because those past relationships are a literal trigger for you.

“Bye, and hey, I wanted to ask—are you free tonight?” Paige notices you’re feeling a bit off. Her eyes show confusion, but she’s trying to act like everything’s cool. And honestly, she almost pulls it off.

“Yeah, probably. I’ll text you when I’m done with class,” you say. You feel a little warmth inside knowing Paige invited you out, but starting something new always freaks you out a bit. You don’t wanna go through the same old stuff again. Still, you’ve heard a lot about Paige, and people don’t talk badly about her unless it’s true. So, you’re holding onto hope for what you two might have.

“Awesome. I’ll be waiting for your message.” She smiles and walks out of your dorm.

･ﾟﾟ･:.｡..｡.:ﾟ::✼✿

Classes are finally over, but your mind’s been buzzing all day with everything that happened. You wanna talk it out with KK, so you two agree to meet at her dorm while Paige is at the library.

You flop down on Paige’s bed like it’s your own—obviously, she doesn’t know you do that. KK’s lying on her bed.

“So, what happened?” she asks.

You spill all the details.

“I get it, Paige’s an amazing person, super kind, and obviously she’s not gonna be like Emily. But, you know... I still feel those scars on my heart. I don’t love her anymore, I’m almost over her, but it’s tough. I know she wouldn’t hurt me, but I’m scared I’m not good enough for her. She’s like a total star, super famous, with a huge future and an awesome career. I don’t wanna be the one holding her back.”

“Girl, I totally get you. But listen, you’re jumping to conclusions without even knowing how she feels about all this. And here’s the thing—she literally looks at your pics before she goes to sleep. I sent them to her ‘cause she begged me. She whispers your name in her sleep, and you seriously think she’s just gonna give up on you that easy? Nah, she’s not that kind of person, you know that. And honestly, I think maybe being with you could even help her play better.”

After an hour or so of talking, you actually start feeling way better thanks to KK. You get up to head back to your place and text Paige about meeting up.

But just then, the door swings open—Paige walks in.

“Hey KK, I’m starving. Got anything to eat?” Paige looks over at KK, then notices you lounging on her bed, trying to fix the blanket like you’re just chilling there.

Paige bursts out laughing, and KK joins in.

“Well, here we are! Wanna grab dinner together?”

______________________________________

just give me some time, and I'll give you the good part.

[vanesycho]

student f!reader x prof!johnny

part1 / part2[soon]

wc:1,9k

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The lesson finally ended and the classroom slowly began to empty. As you wrote your last few notes, your eyes drifted to Johnny. He was surrounded by a few female students, joking and laughing.Johnny was always known for being so friendly, it was no surprise that he was the most popular professor. That was what made you feel uneasy, you didn't know if you had feelings for him but every time you saw him so close to other students your heart ached. Because you couldn't be close to him like they did, you were always holding yourself back for some reason, you weren't attending his classes, you couldn't listen to him. The laughter between them practically echoed in your head, you stood up and quickly gathered your things. You couldn't help but ask yourself, why were you so shy? You didn't even have the courage to ask him anything when everyone was so relaxed.

You didn't even know why you were drawn to him, was it just because he was handsome? Or was it because he was so mature yet had such a fun personality? You didn't know. Yet you always preferred to stay away from him, afraid of doing something wrong, not wanting to remain the weird student in his eyes.

As you gather your things and are about to leave the classroom, you notice a girl approaching him and whispering. When she pull away, Johnny throws his head back slightly and laughs. You turned to the doorway and stood there, your eyes blurring. Should you just leave or should you do something? Even if you did, what would change?

Just then, Johnny catches sight of you and frowns slightly, realizing that you’re just standing there in the doorway, doing nothing. He interrupts the conversation and calls out, "Y/n? Did something happen? Do you want to talk?" You felt your heart race at this sudden interest, Johnny notices your concern and wants to talk, which makes you feel embarrassed. You turn around, Johnny still staring at you, and you pull yourself together when you notice the students around you are also facing you. "No...I was actually, uh...just going to leave." You cursed the shakiness in your voice. Johnny glanced at your face for a moment, it was obvious that something was wrong, but he couldn’t force you if you didn’t want to talk. "If you say so, but I'm here if you want to talk, okay?" You nodded slightly and quickly left. Johnny stared at the doorway for a while longer. He sat down, thinking about the worried expression on your face.

When you got home you threw yourself straight into bed, even when you closed your eyes the image of Johnny that came to your mind made you mutter a curse. The notification on your phone made you lose your thoughts.You open the phone and saw that your close friend had sent a message. 'We'll be at the usual bar tonight, you in?' Your hand went to write 'no' but you stopped, for a moment you thought that you actually needed this, you couldn't just sit here and waste time thinking about him. After deleting the message you wrote and writing another reply in its place, you stood up and opened your wardrobe.

──────────────────────

As soon as you stepped into the bar, you frowned at the loud music, your friend grabbed your arm and pushed you to the corner where you always sat. You glanced around briefly, it was full of people flirting each other, cigarette smoke making the atmosphere even more gloomy. Your friend put the drink she bought for you in front of you, You took the glass in your hand without thinking. Your friend watched with a smile in surprise when you bought a big sip. "Hey, slow down, you seem like you're in the mood today?" You laughed briefly, it was actually a day you were definitely not in the mood for.

The comfort that came with every sip and the thought in your head going away made you want to drink more. That bitter taste in your throat made your thoughts blurry. You drank for a while, you danced, you enjoyed the atmosphere. But Johnny kept coming back to your mind, and it seemed like he wouldn't go away no matter what you did. The thoughts made you frown, your head ached as the already noisy environment gave you a headache and you left the bar, went to a sidewalk and sat down. The cold wind that blew in the night made your body shiver, you tried to come to your senses. Hand went to your instant phone, you dialed Johnny’s number, you never even called him for lessons but you still kept his number in your phone.

You stared at the screen for a while, knowing that any decision you made from now on would be wrong due to your drunkenness. But you did it anyway, pressed the call button and waited. A few ringing sounds echoed in your ears, you buried your head in your knees, the pain was getting worse, as if it was a warning. "Y/n? I'm surprised you called at this hour, is everything okay?" Johnny’s concerned yet gentle tone made you smile sadly, a tear simply falling down your cheek.

Not getting an answer from you, Johnny got up from where he was sitting and closed the book in front of him, frowned and spoke again. “Y/n?” The way your name came out of his lips so beautifully made you laugh hysterically, you swallowed hard, tried to speak even though you couldn't properly. "I feel confused...I.. I don't know, I just wanted to talk to you..please don't...hang up." He realized that you weren't yourself because the words weren't coming out of your mouth properly. He took his important belongings and spoke as he left the house "Where are you? Listen to me, are you safe?"

You smiled, your heart beat faster as he was so worried and thinking about you, you mumbled "I'm at a party...It's too loud in here...And I...think I drank too much, I don't know." Johnny muttered to himself as he got into his car. "God, how much have you had to drink?" The fact that you weren't in control made him even more worried, so he started the car, hoping you weren't in danger. “Okay Y/n, now listen to me, take a deep breath, and tell me where you are.” You gave him the address in a half-asleep voice and mumbled words. Johnny hung up the phone and increased the speed, trying to get to where you were as quickly as possible.

You waited with your eyes half-closed, your head continuing to spin and ache. You closed your eyes with the oncoming car lights, you stayed like that for a while as the light hurt your eyes, when a tall figure passed in front of you and blocked this light, you raised your head and saw him. He helped you as you tried to stand up, but lost your balance for a moment, he held your waist tightly as you fell on him. The incoming voice caressed your ear, "I caught you." you lifted your head, your noses touching briefly. “You came for me. Why?”

The sudden question made him frown and he started to walk you towards the car. "Of course I was going to come, I care about you, after all you are one of my students." You leaned your head back as you got in the car. Johnny turned to you, started the car. "Tell me directions to your house, I'll take you there." You were silent for a while, you didn't want to go home, you wanted to be with him, after a while of silence, you turned your head to him. "So I'm just a student to you? That's all?" He looked at your face, took a deep breath and turned back to the road. "Then we're going to my house."

You were silent the whole way, and Johnny thought about you in that silence, not understanding what you meant by the question, or maybe he didn't want to understand. You rested your eyes for a while, finally opening them with difficulty when the car stopped. When you looked out the window you realized you had come to another house "This is not my house." Johnny turned his head to you "Since you didn't answer my question, that was the only option." He opened your door and grabbed your arms to make you stand up. You took a deep breath as you walked in his arms, his scent making you smile slightly, making you feel even drunker than you already were.

When you got home Johnny took you to the guest room and gently made you lie down on the bed. "You're lucky there aren't any classes tomorrow." you grinned, looking at him with your eyes half-open. “You didn’t answer my question either.” Johnny looked at your face for a moment, then brushed your hair away from your face. “What question?” you held his hand as he was about to pull it away from your hair, he tried to understand what was happening for a moment, and then he looked at your hands. “Am I just a student to you?” The question came again and made him swallow. He pulled his hand away from you and looked away. “You all are.”

"Then why are you so different towards me, you laugh and have fun around others but...not with me." He stood up and put the blanket over you "Are you asking that? You're the only student who doesn't attend my classes and doesn't care about my exams, Y/n." You thought, it was actually true, but it was always easier to blame others. As Johnny was about to turn around and leave, you grabbed his wrist, making him turn back to you. "I care, you have no idea how much I actually care." Johnny sat back down, "Is that so? Because you stubbornly keep failing my exams. I was going to talk to you about it, but-"

"I didn't say I cared about the exams." You didn't even realize what you were saying, the things you would regret when you woke up in the morning were suddenly coming out of your mouth under the influence of alcohol. He looked at you in disbelief, thinking you were just talking nonsense because you were drunk. "What are you talking about, Y/n?" You stayed silent, trying to silence yourself but keeping it inside was making you feel worse. "I care about you." Your words were running through his head, considering that you were out of your mind, you were likely to say nonsense, so even though he was confused, he thought about not taking it seriously. "You better get some sleep now, Y/n."

He got up from the bed, watched him as he turned and walked away. "What can I do to make you smile at me like the others?" He stopped in his tracks, looked at you and stared at you for a while, you felt yourself tense up as his steps moved towards you again, guess you had gone a little too far. He leaned towards you, the whisper of his voice giving you goosebumps. "Try not to be a coward, Y/n. Don't keep looking and running away, come here and see how well I'll treat you." He came closer and gave you a faint kiss on the forehead. You held your breath for a moment. He pulled back and smiled softly. “Good night.” Those were the last words you heard from him, he left the room and turned off the light. Left you alone with your thoughts in the dark room.