#I HAVE A LOT OF MUTUALS ART TO CATCH UP ON

[astral-serpent]

Can snake schmoove

Of course Snake can schmoove, they're all wiggly and noodley! When they're not being lazy, anyway..

The person behind the snakesona, though? Uh.....

No

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC this chap- 11.5k (longestt)

Warnings- WOW this chap has it all, heed the warnings - filming porn masturbation ( m) oral (m and f receiving) spit kink HIGH KEY, mentions of cum, multiple rounds, switching positions, size kink, swallowing (M and F) explicit sex, feral Gojo, squirting, mating press, tummy bulges, lots of fucking goddamn- Gojo is whipped mutual pining, obsessive Gojo. Angsty asf in places, lots of jealousy

A/N- Taglist closed- This was so smut filled I took MULTIPLE breaks aha, maybe my most smut filled one ever? don't read in public actually - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Four>>>

Chapter Three

You can’t escape the desire you have, even in your dreams.

Waking up cumming was not just new, it was ridiculous, and you didn’t even know that happened until this morning. Waking up with your cunt throbbing around nothing, and gushing arousal, as your dream was filled with Satoru kissing you, fucking into you with that thick, huge cock, hitting spots deep inside that felt real even in your dreams.

That’s it, sweetheart, cum all around my cock, hmm? Lemme feel her- there you go, baby.

That had done too much to your sleeping brain apparently, because you couldn’t stop cumming either, crying out and whining when you’d touched your cunt and felt the slick coating everything. After shaking violently from it, you’d peeked and seen a good morning text from him, all while you had to go get cleaned up, trying to compose yourself before you texted back.

Jenna calls now, shaking you out of your reverie, and the two of you plan lunch the next day. “You’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah, but as a… friend?”

“Oh baby, you’re too cute.” You sigh, leaning back as you stir up some dough for cookies you were baking later, the sunlight filtering in through the little kitchen window you have open wide. You peer out into the sky, thinking it’s not as pretty as Satoru’s eyes.

“I do really feel things, but Jenna I can’t not be near him, if it’s as a friend, then it’s as a friend.” Jenna sighs louder than you did. “Are we having a sighing contest?”

“I’ll win any loud moan contest, but your sighs are cuter.”

“Jenna!”

You both laugh then, and a beep sounds on your phones. “Ah, looks like he’s going to stream. Gonna go watch your friend?”

“You’re an instigator. Maybe.” She giggles again, as you finish preheating the oven, scooping the dough onto the parchment paper.

“Be careful, you’re a grown woman, and things change, but don’t forget yourself, okay?” You pause then, emotions catching in your throat at her words. “I’m not trying to be the ‘mom’ I swear.”

“I know, Jenna. I love you, see you soon?” You end the call after she says goodbye, popping the cookies in the oven and turning them on. You set up your laptop, deciding to do some work for the weekend on a project your friend hired you for, but the temptation of seeing Satoru keeps nagging at your mind.

The man certainly has a pretty cock, but you think it’s the way he looks at the camera that fucks you up, it’s probably why he’s so good at it, his job. And he clearly enjoyed it, even though you know he was having a little difficulty with the last shoot, perhaps he prefers solo lately? To think you had anything to do with that was foolish, so you wouldn’t allow the thought.

The timer beeps, you stand up and stretch, turning off the timer and oven then, grabbing a bright red oven mitt and pulling out the sheet pan, smelling delectable, the steam hot and rising, scent filling your nostrils. You loved to bake, especially when you were stressed, and you suppose you were, having feelings for a man currently stroking his cock for the camera was conflicting at best.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s not feelings, that you’re inexperienced and confused, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You eye that silver laptop again, remembering the last time, the image of him sucking his own cum off his fingers is burned deep, a core memory at this fucking point. You shake it off, then sigh, giving into temptation.

You’d just tip him a hundred again to be supportive, you tip Jenna all the time, it’s fine, it’s something a friend can do.

Right?

You log in to the onlyfans platform, the black and blue OF making you just a bit nervous, clicking on the stream then, taking several breaths as you click on it. Fully prepared to be soaking wet, the sight that greets you is not Satoru stroking his cock, it’s another woman, her thighs spread, while Satoru runs circles on her clit. She’s propped on his lap, her head against his bare collarbones, moaning.

Your heart shatters then, and it shouldn’t, no you’re so stupid!

You are Satoru’s friend, and it was your choice to check his stream, to tip and be supportive but ultimately you know what you potentially signed up for. You saw him with Jenna, and for whatever reason that had not bothered you- maybe because it was before he touched you, looked at you like that.

The girl in front of him has two of his fingers shoved deep as he has her feet propped up on his thighs while you blink away stupid tears that shouldn’t exist, there’s no anger but there’s so much jealousy you shock yourself. You’re a girl’s girl, you’re supportive, what is this!? You’d like to rip her right off his lap, and you hate yourself for it right now.

You shake it off, looking away as the cookies fill your home with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. It should be a cheery morning, but you can’t even focus on anything but the conflict in your heart. You stare back again, hearing Satoru’s soft, husky voice, watching all the comments in the chat while he grips one of her breasts in his big hand.

Her head falls forward, and the way you vividly imagine it being you instead has you heating up, in more ways than excitement, embarrassment - you’d never be that girl for him, you wish you could be that way. But Satoru and you together felt too special, especially to share, how could you fall when this was your idea!?

You can’t be upset.

You take a breath, shutting your eyes and looking away as his voice resonates through the laptop’s speakers, echoicing in the quiet. If you were crazy enough you’d say it sounded different than with you, that he let go more, that you were even wetter when he touched you, but you’re starting to think you’re delusional.

“So, we wanna hit this spot right here, for any men watching, you’re gonna curl up here, that spot feels good, doesn’t it honey?” Your jaw sets, swiping tears from under your glasses now.

“Ah, y-yes Gojo!” Her moan echoes too much, he pauses then, the squelching of her cunt stops, it’s all quiet as he just stares at the camera like he’s staring at you, his lips parted, eyes widening just a bit, but there’s no way.

You’ve lost it.

You tip him the hundred as you’d intended to, quickly shutting your laptop and damn near hyperventilating. What’s wrong with you!? His job is to fuck women, so you saw him touching one, what do you expect? The man had a gang bang scene just yesterday, and dinner with you tonight. You have to shove it all down then, you have to remember what he does.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t special though, for you.

Did he do things off camera with-

Stop it!

The phone rings a few minutes later and you just stare at it, lost in your own head, wishing you could compartmentalize it so much better, that you could separate the two. You were so stupid for engaging and knowing, but at the same time, to not have Satoru seems like something you can’t compute, even if it is just as a friend, even if you can’t be sexual.

Maybe you read it all wrong, that night.

Satoru calls again, shaking out his hand as his co star is now fucking herself quite expertly on a dildo, since Satoru can’t get hard for anything - it’s worse today than yesterday - he decided to turn it into a guided masturbation video. At least his fucking fingers still work, despite jerking off to you so much his cock is raw, remembering your lips surrounding it.

Even fingering her he’s picturing your pussy, fuck he wants to just bury his face in it again, he knows the two of you are ‘friends’ or whatever the fuck this was, but it’s exceedingly difficult when it’s affecting him like this. He keeps wondering if you all sleep together, will it make it worse or better? Was he all in his head, as if you would go for someone like him if he did date.

What was he thinking lately?

He saw your name in the stream and his stomach had dropped - and why, you’re just a friend, it was fine if you wanted to see a bit of a stream and tip, he knows it is to be supportive. You’re supportive and sweet, so sweet, god your taste and scent still haunt him, he’s been dying to see you tonight, in any capacity, but when he saw the name he felt awful.

He only wants to fuck you, touch you, but he has a career and commitments, to get her to agree to this instead of fucking was already difficult and he was slowly losing it as his cock kept refusing to work. Even if he could get it up, he didn’t like the idea of fucking someone else at all, after the debacle of a gang bang yesterday. But even touching someone was doing nothing for him.

Now he saw you leave so quickly, and decided to gently smack his co star’s ass, smiling as he bent her over, murmuring he needs a break. She eagerly took over the spotlight, the opportunity was a huge one for her anyway as a smaller star. Satoru keeps staring at your picture, sighing as he notices the little reflections in your glasses, touching the screen softly.

You saw him touching someone, did you care, did it bother you-

Why is he thinking like this!?

He calls again, and you answer, much to his relief, as his hands let go of the bathroom counter he’d gripped too tightly. “Hey Satoru, sorry I popped in, I thought it was um… you…”

“Jerking off?” He finishes the sentence, leaning back against his wall and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you did um… shoots at home. You should get back to it, why are you calling me, silly? Looks like um… you were, ah… doing… good.” You’re breaking out every voice, cursing yourself quietly, why can’t you just speak? You’re shoving it all down, trying not to cry - there’s no reason to!

“Ah, yeah I thought I’d try to teach people how to make women cum, they fail often you know.” He tries to make it light, as his stomach clenches, a sick feeling when he hears your forced laugh.

“That’s very true. Someone should give you a Nobel prize for this work.” He snorts then, as the laughter becomes a little more genuine. “No you’re amazing at that. Why not show them how?”

“You thought I was amazing, hmm?” His tone changes, cock throbbing when he just hears your sigh, picturing you vividly in his mind, while the sounds of his co-star echo, moans and squelching wetness that does nothing for him.

Didn’t he used to enjoy all of this?

“You know I thought that.” Your heart pounds, you have to remember, Satoru is amazing and just because you’re hurt, you can’t be mad or upset at him. He’s not yours in any way, even if you’re starting to wish he was. “Isn’t your co-star waiting?”

“She’s occupying herself fine. It’s not… sex…” Because I can’t get hard unless it’s you. “It’s just a tutorial.”

“Oh,” your relief shouldn’t exist, you shouldn’t care, but to hear that does make you slump over just a bit, before taking a breath. “Do you want to do dinner another day, it’s already four-”

“No, no!” Satoru panics then, since when does smooth pornstar Satoru freak the fuck out and act desperate? “I mean, no. I want to see you tonight. I have time to shower and get there.”

He wants to wash any of this girl off, frantically actually, he wants you all over him, even if it’s just him pleasing you more. But moreso, even if you just wanted to have dinner and that was it, he’d be happy, though the thought of fucking you with his fingers while you eat dessert is insanely tempting, making his tip drool precum quite annoyingly as he glares in the mirror.

“Okay good, I was looking forward to it.” Your whisper is soft and genuine, as he sees the red on his cheeks, the black pupils, just thinking of you shifts his entire face.

Fuck.

“I’ll start getting ready, I think it’s time you see I can get dressed up.” You tease softly, swiping stupid tears and trying to plaster a bright smile on your face as you stare in your mirror. Your eyes are puffy, the color drained from your face, lips trembling - just seeing that has affected your entire face, taking off your glasses so you don’t even have to look at yourself for a moment.

“I bet you’re gonna kill me, you look so pretty any time I see you,” his voice is hoarse, as he spills the vulnerable truth, and the two of you shut your eyes, leaning against your bathroom counters. “But I’m excited to see you dolled up.”

“Are you, Satoru?” You try to hide the insecurities haunting you, hearing his sexy, heavy sigh on the other line.

“Very excited. I’ll see you soon, sweets.”

The two of you hang up and you sigh, eyeing the clock now - you have about two hours to get ready, and you’re so nervous your palms are sweaty and numb. It may just be two ‘friends’ having dinner, but you want to shove that image back you just saw, and focus, and try to look beautiful tonight.

Satoru’s own hands are numb, as he curses, slamming a hand on his forehead, unable to think of anything but you, barely able to pull himself together. When he walks out, Suguru is there, nibbling in the kitchen, raising a brow at him. “You good, Satoru?”

“Fine, I… you wanna finish that for me?” He gestures to the room, while Suguru sips down water. “I think I have a kind of date or something.”

“A date!? Huh?” Satoru just looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t think it’s a date, it’s friends or something? Maybe... I don’t know. Is dinner a date if it's not with a costar?” Suguru rolls his violet eyes, sighing as he washes his hands now, patting them dry with a paper towel.

“You’re acting weird as fuck lately, that cute little good girl got you simping?” Satoru scoffs, rolling his blue eyes now.

“Suguru, just do me a solid.” Satoru pouts, earning Suguru’s scoff.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one.” Suguru and Satoru enter the room, as Satoru eases the transition, the notes in the chat are going insane, he can’t help but exhale in relief, before pausing at the thought.

Was there some way to save his malfunctioning dick?

*****

Satoru whistles when he meets you at the restaurant that evening, running just a little late, you're sitting there nibbling on your thumb, peering at the menu when he arrives. Your eyes light up behind a different pair of glasses, these have cute red rims, matching the red dress you're wearing that's making him ache.

He hasn't seen you in something like this, not that you weren't always pretty, but when you stand up and he sees how it fits your body it almost takes him everything to hold back. Vividly picturing bending you right over that table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant, gripping the red shimmery fabric that drapes across every line and curve of that body.

He can't form a word, notoriously known for never shutting up, but he can't think of anything to say, when you shyly look down, hands fidgeting in front of your lap, and he’s standing there sputtering. It’s awkward even, until the waitress comes up and smiles over at Satoru, gesturing to a seat, saying - ‘This must be the friend you were waiting for!’

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, you look beautiful.” He says finally, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling it heat up against his lips. You shake your head with a sweet turn of your lips, kissing his cheek in turn.

“You’re fine, Satoru, I still haven’t learned LA time.” He chuckles at that just a bit, sitting across from you now, before deciding to sit next to you instead, shoulders brushing together.

“This feels more comfy? It feels all formal the other way.”

“Does it feel too… date like?” He falters then, because that was not it, but the doubt has crept in on your face, when the waitress asks you all for your order, and he has to blink back the confusion. “What do you suggest?”

“Want me to order for you?” You nod shyly, god the submissive nature of you makes him ache in way too many ways, knowing how perfect of a girl you’d be for him in every aspect. “We’ll have this,” he says, pointing to the menu now. “And bring two glasses of champagne please.”

“Are we celebrating?” You tease, handing the waitress the menu, Satoru chuckles a bit, shaking his head while you take in how handsome he looks, brushing your fingers against his suit jacket. “You look so good, Satoru.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He holds your hand then, fuck it feels too good, pressing it against the dark red suit jacket that truly only he could pull off, black button down shirt left open, showing enough of his chest to make anyone die over. Your eyes look at it now, a few of the chains he wears resting along the strong muscles, settling between his collarbones. “You’re making me look bad, wearing in that dress.”’

“No way!”

“Absolutely, you are. You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s brushing back a tendril, as you eye him, that look that drives him insane, the look that’s ruined him since he met you. He tries to smirk, to act calm, teasing, “I look that good?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry.” He laughs softly, shaking his head when you pull your hand back gently.

“We match, great minds you know.”

“Indeed, we clearly coordinated telepathically!” He laughs then, and it's just like that first night, when you and him just hit it the fuck off. It’s comfortable, it’s fun - so fun - that people smile at the two of you, as you laugh like friends for years. It’s how it feels, like you’ve known him, a way you can’t explain.

But you wished it was just the friendliness, not the heat in your tummy when he wipes a droplet of clear, bubbly champagne from his plump lips, if every time his thigh brushed yours you didn’t melt. Someone comes up then, a really pretty girl, and you feel Satoru stiffen a bit, making you tense, sipping on the tart champagne and averting your eyes a bit.

“Gojo, it's been what, a year?!” He smiles with ease, standing and kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly.

“It has been, shit, how you been?” It’s all very Hollywood, their exchange, you feel you’ll never figure it out, the two years you’ve been here after relocating and you still couldn’t get being kissy on everyone.

It makes you think of him earlier, his fingers in that-

Stop that!

He’s saying your name you errantly realize, you plaster on a smile as she looks at you curiously, eyeing you up and down. “Co-star?”

“No, no, she’s my friend. She’s a good girl.” He winks down at you, and she giggles then, holding her hand out.

“It’s awesome to meet you!”

“You too. Are you um…”

“A former co-star, yeah. Satoru is the best in the industry.” Ah, so she fucked him, too. You want to be petty and scowl and you hate yourself for it more.

You never, ever are like this.

You never have been.

She’s touching his shoulder and making you sick, when your eyes catch a familiar face, a man standing with a group of other men, smiling over at you, he’s one of your co-workers that is always working. You wave at him while Satoru finishes his conversation, and he adjusts his tan jacket, touching the arm of one of the men, letting them go as he walks to you.

You tense just a bit, while the girl finally leaves, and Satoru’s sitting next to you once more, as his phone rings. He turns it off, jaw tensing when a blond man takes your hand and bends down at the waist, like some old school gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of your delicate wrist, the pretty bracelet slides down your arm as he does it, and he watches your blush.

The fuck.

He was trying his best to get that girl to go on, so he could get back to talking to you, but now some random guy has your attention, and Satoru doesn’t like it, not one fucking bit. “Nanami, this is Satoru.”

“Nanami, huh?” He leans back, flipping off his phone again, you look at him curiously.

“Need to grab that?” You ask, and he shakes his head, swiping it off once more, ignoring his manager while this Nanami guy eyes you behind green glasses.

“You look stunning, is that alright to say?” You giggle again, Satoru glares at you, how dare you giggle at him!?

He told you that you looked beautiful. Did you giggle?

He wants to punch this smirking man in the face.

What’s wrong with him!?

“Thank you, Nanami, I guess you don’t see me too dressed up at work, huh? You always dress so well.”

“Oh stop, you’re flattering me. And this is your…” He trails off, looking at Gojo, who has to wipe the glare off his face for a moment.

Say it, Satoru.

More than a friend.

You look at him then, as if you’re waiting for him to say that, to say something, while Nanami’s lips quirk up just a bit, making Satoru want to smack him again. He takes a breath, smiling then instead of glaring, but his hand is on the small of your back. “We’ve become close friends, very quickly.”

“Oh? I’ve known her for a long time,” Nanami says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You look at Satoru, whose phone starts ringing again, and he curses, rolling his blue eyes. “Need to take that?”

“It’s my manager, they have horrible timing. I’ll be right back.” He murmurs, you smile understandingly, while his manager trips on him about earlier.

He knows his dick doesn’t work, and now he knows he hates touching anyone, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to anyone when he has no fucking clue why this is happening. He’s obsessed with a sweet, shy little thing that is currently getting hit on by a dude buffer than him.

Maybe he’d be good for you.

Satoru is too petty to admit it though, glaring instead while his manager goes on and on. “Listen, I get it, you need content.”

“We need you with women, a lot of your viewers are men, they’re not gonna tune in to watch you solo. Find someone that works for you, I don’t care who at this point, but we’re just not gonna make profit if you keep turning down roles. Or, I heard, you shoved a girl off on Geto.”

“I didn’t… shove her off, I just…” Satoru frowns again, the blond man is sitting next to you in the other seat, your eyes are on Satoru however they turn away when he catches your gaze.

He just wants to fuck you right in front of that fucking man now. God, if you would be interested in starring in something, you’d make bank, it’s not just his obsession, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s seen. Your tits, your body, they’re all so sexy, and your pretty face with those glasses? You’d kill any sexy nerd shoot there was.

“Satoru!”

Shit.

He can’t get the vision of you in some slutty ass librarian outfit from running through his head.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try to get something going, I mean I was gonna do a solo tonight anyway.”

“That’s fine, but remember you’re a lot more than just Onlyfans. You’re a star, Satoru, that comes with a certain level of appearances. So whatever is going on, you gotta get it together, or we’re both not making shit.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall now, eyes going back to you, giggling at something he’s said.

He’s too close to you.

Why does he mind so much?

“I’ll get a shoot done.” The words feel horrible, the thought of fucking anyone else just seems like an impossibility, and he doesn’t know how to compute it in his mind.

What did you do?

“Alright, I expect some video with a woman - not with Suguru. Though…”

“I’m not fucking Suguru.” He chuckles as people look at him a bit, running a hand through his white locks. “He is pretty but not my type.”

“He’s gonna be your type if you turn down every other actress.”

“Ugh.”

“Mmhmm, talk to you later.” He hangs up, frowning at his phone, trying to gather himself before he does something so stupid, jealousy filling him and for what?

You’re talking. You’re not his. He had his fingers buried in a girl this morning, why does he care if you did anything? He knows you’re not that girl, though, but you choose to be with him. It makes him feel far, far more special than he’d admit, the fact that you want him, that you trust him. Was he mistaking the look in your eyes, was it just desire there?

“If you are single, would you mind a date sometime? I haven’t had so much fun talking in a long time.” Nanami says softly, making you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks from the soft lights hanging above you in the dimly lit, pretty restaurant. “Am I too bold?”

“No, no. I just haven’t been on a date in forever.” Satoru feels like he’s been punched in the chest as he hears, nearing the table and acting like he didn’t wanna yank you to him and kiss you then and there.

But he chose to tell him you’re friends, that’s what you were, a friend he wants to fuck all night in every position imaginable. Then lick his own cum out of your cunt, abused from his cock, and fuck you all morning. God he can’t stop thinking about them all, have you dragged on his face, his hands on your waist, let you ride his mouth till he couldn’t breathe.

Real fucking friendly.

Satoru’s hands grip and release while he hears your answer, “I will think about it, Mr. Nanami, it may be fun.”

That’s almost a yes.

Fuck.

“Think about what?” He asks with a smile, leaned back in the booth, a hand brushing your bare thigh under the table, where your dress had slid up from you sitting, he feels it tense while he drags his fingertips across it, eyeing you then.

Was Satoru trying to confuse you more? You look at him again, some toxic part of you that you don’t recognize wants him to claim you, what the fuck was that!? You have never been that way, you’ve never been a lot of things until you met this blue-eyed man, however, and even with a handsome Nanami flirting, you can’t get Satoru’s moans out of your mind.

Snap out of it!

“A date with your lovely friend. You two are just friends?” He looks between the two of you now, and Satoru opens his mouth, but what can he say?

It’s what you ‘are’.

Would he be worthy of dating you if he wanted to, when his job was fucking other women? You didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be the only one, fuck you literally had become his one singular, consuming thought. He smiles good naturedly, eyeing you now, watching you bite your lower lip, teeth digging into the plush of it, while your thighs tremble just a bit.

“We just met at a party a few weeks ago, but we are really close. Quickly.” He murmurs.

“Can’t see you partying.” Nanami’s hand comes to touch your other thigh, and for a girl who hasn’t had any in forever, the sensation of two big hands on your thighs is addling your mind. “No offense, darling you seem a little straight laced…” his words are trailed off with his hand squeezing gently.

Satoru scowls at him.

Is he touching you!?

Do you like it?

“I don’t party, it’s true.” You smile now, a hand over his, thumbs brushing his knuckles, while Satoru’s squeezing so hard you wince before he realizes it, letting go of his grip, but the hand staying on your knee. “I think we could go on a date sometime, as long as it doesn’t make work weird.”

“Not at all, all right I’ll leave you two to hang out then,” he stands, holding out a hand for Satoru, he squeezes the shit out of Nanami’s hand with a forced smile, only for Nanami to squeeze tighter. And fuck he’s strong. Then, he takes your hand, murmuring a - “I’ll see you at work, then,” and kissing the back of your hand. “Darling.”

Darling.

Satoru will show him darling.

You giggle, only pissing him off more, nodding shyly, fuck you’re cute even when you’ve made him furious. He’s shared women so many times he can’t count, even girls he got closer to, regular girls that you could almost say he ‘dated’ he’d still regularly bang out with his friends. He’s not possessive in general, he’s open minded and a free spirit.

Or he was!?

“Sounds good, Mr. Nanami.” He hates how you say his name, when the man in the khaki suit and dumbass cheetah tie leaves, finally. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so sweet.” You look at him then, narrowing your eyes curiously.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. Seems boring, pretentious.” You blink in confusion, eyeing the retreating figure walking out, he even waves at you, which you return.

“He doesn’t seem like either to me. Satoru, you said we are just friends, are you worried that we won’t… do all that we do if I date someone?” Your words drop to a quiet murmur, and he sighs.

“Yes I would be very upset if I didn’t get to taste you again, why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a fuckin’ tragedy, sweetheart.” His words are too husky, when he leans against you, turning just so, his fingers slipping up your inner thigh, a side of sweet, nice Satoru you hadn’t seen yet, you almost think he looks…

He can’t be jealous.

Right?

You're delusional.

“I don’t just sleep around, so if we went on a date I wouldn’t do that. But, if I hit it off, and got serious, I wouldn’t continue our… lessons. I can only be with one person at one time.” He tenses then, is he going to lose you before he even gets you? “I don’t care if you do the same, I know it’s your job, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m not fucking anyone right now. My manager is bitching at me about it.” You tilt your head curiously, the chandelier earrings dancing in glittering prisms along your neck as you study him. “I’m having issues on set.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concern in your voice now, as he shakes his head. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“I’m not in a good headspace it seems, the gang bang I failed, and I pushed the girl this morning on Suguru. So if I don’t give my manager something, they’re gonna be pissed. And no money for us if I can’t show up.”

“What’s wrong though, you seemed fine with Jenna in what I watched? Is this a new problem?” God you’re clueless to your effects, aren’t you? You touch his thigh too, instantly making his cock hard, looking down and getting flustered, he feels your heat, just making him harder. “You seem to work fine to me. Are the cameras getting too stressful?”

“I don’t know, but it really is a problem. Do you think… you could help your very handsome, amazing friend out?” You look up at him, curious.

“Help how?”

“Your good video skills, film a hot jerk off stream, good angles? Maybe that will get enough money he’ll chill some until I get over this.” You look away, the images of Satoru stroking his cock are burned in your brain. “Too much?”

“No, no. I can help, I feel I am taking up your time-”

“You’re not.” He cups your face then, turning it to him. “You’re never taking up my time, I enjoy being here. Okay?” You exhale, fuck had you been worried about that!?

How could you not know how badly he craves your presence?

“I feel bad that you’re going through this, is it the lesson?”

“The lesson did bring your taste into my mouth, and maybe no one tastes as sweet, it’s true,” his thumb brushes across your jaw line, smiling at how embarrassed you get then. “I think your taste would help me out.”

“Then, I’ll film you, but I can’t guarantee the quality.”

“It’ll be impeccable.” He raises two fingers, making your mind go to places it shouldn’t, you know another ‘lesson’ or session, or any time at all with Satoru was dangerous.

You’re teetering on the edge of feelings constantly, but you can do this, right, separate the two? He seems so good at it, at being your friend and then doing more, and you almost failed completely. You almost couldn’t say yes to Nanami because you are currently so delusional you think this star is so interested in you for more.

You have to accept him for who he is, no matter what, this was your choice to join his life at all. You take a breath now, trying to flip that switch off, the one that can’t stop thinking how much you’d love to kiss him, every minute of every day. The side that’s upset his fingers were inside someone, you have to throw her aside, and enjoy what’s here while it’s here.

He makes you question so much constantly, like every minute spent under that cerulean gaze brings out a side of you that you never knew of, some inner sexual side that only he can ignite. It’s so beautiful and special, his breath against your lips, you want to press them to yours, but so unsure, was he not about to be affectionate in public with you?

Was this just left for home?

He changes your thoughts when he kisses your forehead, far too sweet, then your cheeks, hot to the touch, down to your nose, making you giggle, relax. “You never ever waste any time.”

“I needed that.” You exhale, kissing his lips quickly as he smiles against your lips, and you pull back quickly. “I’d love to help you out.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, pretty.” His thumb brushes the slick on your upper thigh, right by your panties, watching your lashes flutter shut, as you take a shaky breath. “Come back to my place?”

“For the night or…”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Satoru’s paying the bill, signing a signature and leaving a hefty tip, then, holding out a hand for you.

“Did you drive here?” You shake your head, and he smiles, snatching up his phone now. “Perfect, I’ll have my driver take us over.”

*****

The second time coming to Satoru’s home was a little different, you were more comfortable, slipping off your heels now, he bends down to help you again, kissing your knees as he does, hands slipping up your thighs. Your hand brushes a lock of his white hair back, the unreal way you feel this comfortable, this drawn to him, makes your heart ache.

You’re so scared you’ll get hurt more, but you can’t stop yourself from being near him, from him looking at you like you’re the only fucking girl there is, are you so delusional?

Just enjoy it.

You close your eyes, sighing as he stands, kissing your lips again, easing your hand bag off your shoulder, brushing his thumbs across the mark it’s left on your shoulder. “Want another drink?”

“Yes please, if I’m going to be a porn director.” He laughs softly, shaking his head and taking off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair when he pulls out the same bottle you’d sipped last time.

“You liked this one, hmm?” You nod, surprised he’d remember, taking the sweet liquid in the crystal glass, fingers brushing now. “Don’t get drunk though, I can’t have a shaky ass camera.”

“So demanding already, you really gonna make it worth my while you say?” You’re trying to tease back, like you can breathe or function in his presence, he just sighs, brushing back your hair behind your ear.

“That and more, sweetheart. We have hardly started doing things together, there is so much I can think of,” his hands slip lower, down the side of your neck, watching the goosebumps raise as he does, sighing at how perfect you look in his kitchen. “So many positions.”

“How many are there!?” He laughs now, at your embarrassed little look, pressing a boop to your nose.

“You’re endlessly adorable. Corruptible.”

“Oh!” He’s taking his own glass now, guiding you by your hand.

“Suguru’s out for the night, so we won’t get interrupted.” He’s leading you to his room, yanking off that black top, pausing as he sets up the ring light and grabs the camera, handing it to you, fingers brushing against each other. “You ready?”

“Ready,” your squeak of an answer makes him pause, taking your free hand, putting it on his bare chest as your heart hammers, trailing the hand lower to his belt and swallowing. “Need help?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needs you.

He’s desperate for you, fuck.

You’ve helped him undress, on your knees on the soft, plush carpet, when you start the stream, and he starts stroking that long, thick length right in front of you, he keeps looking at you, even when you gesture to the camera. He’s moaning, spitting on his tip, making it slicker for his big hand which still can’t come close to covering it, twisting and moving it all for you.

For his fans.

It’s hard to remember them when your cunt throbs, when you’re so overheated you can hardly stand it, and Satoru’s talking, low and hoarse. “Gonna cum so much, fuck…”

When he’s cumming you damn near do just looking, thighs pressing together for that friction, mouth fucking dry when your shaky legs nearly give out, while you come from a lower angle, reading the comments of his spurting cum, shooting up against his silvery happy trail, sticking all over, making you ache to drink it up.

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you didn't know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

But you flush again, surprising him with your nod.

“Shit really!?”

“We can film it for us to watch, and… I doubt I’ll be okay sharing it, but we can see if you- ah!” Satoru’s got you lifted so fast you barely can blink, unzipped and turned in moments, leaving you in the prettiest red lace lingerie that makes him groan, his fingertips trembling on your skin. “I said probably not, don’t get excited.”

“I’m excited to bury my face between your thighs again, sweetheart.” You cry out when he’s pressed you on the bed, spreading your thighs and groaning, fingers tugging at your panties.

“How can you make sure my face isn’t there?” You ask softly, he grabs the camera and the stand then, cock just swinging around, balls smacking his thighs, so used to being naked he doesn’t realize his effects. You can’t stop staring when he gets it at the perfect angle, clicking his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, viewfinder showing your pretty cunt up close, he’s almost furious to think anyone could see it like him, but his career is teetering on the brink of nothing, and if you truly were okay with it, he only sees it as a win.

You broke his dick and now he’s begging to just lick you, and split pay with you, he never thought he’d be so pathetic, but it’s no wonder, thumbing your pussy and spreading it, sighing. “Mnh!”

“So, to keep it anonymous if you decide to show this, don’t speak too personally, okay sweets?” You nod shyly, gasping as he shoves your thighs up. “Also, hold them up high, so all we’re getting is a view of your pussy.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease, but his cock starts leaking again, earning his moan.

“Don’t speak too much, to be safe, I don’t ever want you to feel like anyone would know it’s you. Speak when we’re done, though, you can absolutely moan.” You nod, so nervous, what are you doing!?

It’s as if Satoru Gojo brings something insane and wild out, because there is a thrill of your pussy on camera suddenly, and knowing he is about to worship you, potentially in front of people has your cunt drooling for him. He hits record then, angling his face so his tongue was in perfect view lapping up the arousal, exhaling now as he shoves your thighs up higher.

Perfect, you’re perfect.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” he murmurs into the camera, parting your folds so all that syrupy arousal can pool out, he hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your red nails pressing into the plush of your thighs. His cock is already back hard, he has to stroke it and whines out as he laps you up, making you gasp.

He's slurping you then, head tilted just so the camera can see, smacking your clit gently, watching you jerk, pressing your thighs up higher and tilting the camera so it's higher, right over his head, looking at it and the reflection of your perfect cunt while he slips the tip of his tongue up. You're moaning at the sensations, twitching hips bringing your cunt more in his face.

Satoru can't stand it, how good you taste, he wondered if it was an illusion but no, you are the sweetest thing he's ever had. “You're so wet, god, take a look…” he's fingering you now, and you hear it while he watches it, glimmering from the soft ring light glowing on your perfect pussy. Making him so dumb he's just burying his face then, forgetting he's filming.

“Mnh!” You're trying not to call out his name, thighs still so high you can't see his face, to protect you from getting seen, until he adjusts it, spreading your thighs further, leaning up to look down at you under lidded eyes, chin coated in your slick. “Satoru…”

“You okay sweets?” His whisper touches you, his concern for you even during this, making sure you're okay. You nod and he exhales in relief, kissing you for a moment, knowing it's what you need, brushing your hair back, sighing as he looks down at you. “You're doing so good. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod again eagerly, and he’s dived back down, fingering you with two curled right in your cunt, hitting that spot that blinds you every time, his moans so filthy, guttural while he watches, angling his wrist and hitting something then, you feel so much pressure you panic, gasping, writhing under him.

“Oh my - ngh! Fuck!” You’re struggling to keep your voice a whisper, palming your mouth while you shatter.

“That’s it, right there, cum for me, lemme drink it up. Let everyone see how much you love my fucking tongue.” Pornstar Satoru was ridiculous to handle, hitting you with his fingers and the tip of his tongue on your clit, when the pressure releases, and your orgasm hits so hard you can’t help but scream, twitching as he pulls back in surprise. “Fuck, you’re squirting f’me?”

You have no clue what he means, you don’t see it as it starts pouring all over, making a mess, wet spot under you even as Satoru grabs you by the fat of your ass, licking up as much as he can. You’re a twitching, soaked little mess, your hands gripping his hair now, screams echoing in the room while he eases off you just a bit now, ready to fuck your slick, messy cunt.

He trembles as he pulls back and does one more shot, pressing a sweet kiss to your pussy before shutting off the camera, and leaning up, kissing you, so desperate, while your slick thighs rub together, and you feel the mess. He pulls up and takes a breath, flipping you then, making you gasp, handing you the camera while he kisses the backs of your shoulders, hands on your ass, spreading it wide.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing across your shoulder blades, brushing your hair to one side while you barely have the strength to press play, and that’s when you see it. “Look how perfect you are.”

Your pussy right on camera, and him eyeing it like he’s worshipping it, like you’re his fucking altar and his mouth is that offering. Your cunt starts throbbing while he works you, kissing every inch of your body as you fall more and more into the abyss of sin, of lust, of desire- of Satoru Gojo.

“You love it, don’t you baby?” His words are hot against your ear, while you watch him on the screen licking your cunt, watch your thighs tremble, all while he’s behind you, sinking his two fingers so deep in your quivering hole again. You arch your back, moaning now, it feels so good you can’t stand it, so erotic watching this video you two took, while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.

“I do, but it’s insane… ah! Satoru…” He sighs now, taking his fingers out, pressing them into your mouth for you to suck, which you quickly obey, eyes fluttering shut, the image of his tongue fucking you reflecting in the darkness.

“Keep it for us, or share? It’s all up to you. I’ll never pressure you either way,” he’s soft then, turning your chin as he lays heavy weight over you, and you eye the phone now, hand shaking just a bit, to close it out or to share, he takes your hand, steadying it. “It’s fine to be how you are, you’re perfect, okay?”

“It’s fine to be how you are, Satoru Gojo. A… question, though.” He sighs, leaning close, while he keeps holding your hand, hovering just so.

“Mmhmm?”

“Would I be your favorite co-star?” Your teasing question makes him laugh at the ridiculous nature.

You’re the only one he can even get hard for.

“You’re the prettiest, yummiest, sweetest co star I could have,” his words are just a little broken, as he almost says more. That he hopes your date sucks with that Nanami guy, that he’s planning to show up at your work tomorrow to glare at that man, that he’s become fucking obsessed, but instead - “How could you think you’re not?”

“And we’re… still friends…” You ache for him to say - no, it’s more - but he nods, against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “Even if we fuck?”

God.

He’s dying.

“You think I wouldn’t be your friend anymore? I’m not the guy to get what he wants and go. I promise.” You nod then, smiling just a bit, and tap the share button then, surprising both of you.

“Holy fuck, I did that…” Your whisper is met with Satoru’s kisses now, as your video plays for all to see, your moans on camera mixing with the ones induced from his play, one arm wrapping your body as his cock presses insistently against your ass, hot and heavy.

“Stop me now, because I can’t think of anything but fucking your pretty pussy raw right now,” his desperate words and dilated eyes just serve to ruin you, when you arch your ass up. “Fuck, you sure?”

“I want you inside me, please,” he eagerly leans back, gripping his cock and lifting your thigh, pressing into your tight ring of muscles, almost cumming from the fucking tip. “Ah!”

“You’re so tight, relax I don’t want to hurt you, please.” Satoru whispers it as he grips your chin.

You nod, as he is slipping a little deeper from the back, the stretch burning so deliciously, you’re convulsing while the viewers are going wild over Satoru’s devoted pussy eating skills with his mysterious, faceless co-star. His silk hair brushes your cheek as he exhales heavy in your ear, whispering your name.

You eye the video, the comments, vision blurry, while he sinks his cock deeper, and he moans as he reads the comments to you, filling your cunt so full of his cock, inch by inch - and there are so many, each thrust deeper while you cling to his wrists, his arms wrapping you. He keeps reading them, even as he shoves in all the way, making you jerk and gasp.

“Perfect pussy, look at Satoru go, god she’s so wet for him, she’s cumming so much - is she squirting? Look at that, you’re a regular star, huh? F-fuck…”

“Mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your fucking skull now, lost in him, lost completely. So deeply unraveled under him you can’t remember what this is, that it’s a friend, that it was a scene, that you’re now the girl who did that, anonymous but to know it’s you on that screen with Satoru devouring you does something, fuck it does too much.

He’s murmuring more comments, and his huge cock is stretching your slick, tight heat beyond its means. “That’s it, you love it, huh? They all want to be in your place, or they want to lick you instead, but it’s me, isn’t it baby?” He shouldn’t be possessive, he tries to tell himself it over and over, but how can he not be, when he’s shoved in so deep, he feels the bulge of your tummy, groaning. “Feel me, sweetheart?”

You can’t speak, just nodding desperately, while the feed goes insane, watching your cunt squirt on Satoru’s face while he’s buried inside you, filling you to the hilt, stretching you out so good you forget to breathe. “Toru!”

He pauses at the nickname, your slurred words and pulsing cunt ending him, he could almost cum then and there and he has amazing stamina, but he has to hold back, wrapping a hand around your throat and leaning up on an elbow while you gush down his cock. Satoru kisses up your neck hungrily, eyeing your pussy on the video and then your face, your eyes almost black with pleasure.

“Only I can hit that spot, hmm?” His tip drags along your spongy spot now, and you’re twitching, nodding, so consumed as he surrounds you, breath against your neck, moans in your ear, hand squeezing your throat just so under your chin. His cock twitches as he shoves deeper, impossibly deeper, while you helplessly grip the blankets beneath you. “Answer me, like a good girl.”

“Y-yes.” Your whisper drives him insane, feral, the way your walls quiver around his cock is exquisite, that grip unreal, but more than anything it feels perfect.

“Made for this cock, aren’t you pretty?” The words fall out before he can stop them, and your eyes rolling back, drool spilling out of your mouth while your cunt is pulsing is his answer. “Perfect, fuck…”

“Mnh!” You can’t take it, his words urging you when he shoves his cock so deep, the tip bruising your cervix, making you scream as his guttural moan fills the room, his hand squeezing just enough pressure to make your orgasm blinding, white hot.

“Cumming all over me, so good, listening f’me, hmm?” You just nod weakly, gasping when he flips you to your back, lifting your thighs and shoving them wide, slapping the tip on your slick cunt and groaning. “Wanna watch me fill you up?”

You nervously nod, swallowing now, and he sees it, you’re overwhelmed, he leans down, kissing you, and you’re desperately clinging to his back, eagerly kissing him despite being damn near slack jawed. You exhale nervously, eyeing him is even more intimate, impossibly more, his plush lips still tasting like your honeyed arousal from earlier.

“If it’s too much, tell me, I want you comfortable.” It’s hard for him to speak, but he does, making sure to reassure you, kissing your forehead before he leans back.

“It’s intense, Satoru but… I want it.” He moans at that, sliding his cock back inside, sucking in a breath when you’re gripping him fucking tighter this time, slipping in slowly, inch by inch. “Ah! Satoru, so d-deep!”

“I am, huh? I can get deeper, baby.” You cry out when he shoves his cock in deep with a sharp thrust, and then pauses, eyeing that bulge in your stomach. “Look.”

“Look at… oh.” You’re heating up at the image, and he’s all about angles, he makes sure your eyes catch every bit of his slow thrusts, filling your tummy full of his enormous cock, too much to take, but your cunt is willing and eager, struggling to take his size.

“Fucking you so deep, see it? Your body is so small compared to my cock, pussy stretched too much, f-fuck… god look at you…” He’s losing it, he was trying to talk sexy to you, which comes naturally, but now he’s just obsessed with the image, thin white brows lowering over his eyes, while he slams inside you, your thighs trembling as they wrap his slutty waist. “Oh my god…”

“Satoru… ah!” He’s done, he’s fucking lost in you, in your eyes when he shoves your thighs up, gripping your face with his huge hands while he’s got you bent in half, slamming so hard you scream. “Too much!”

“I need all of you, fuck… can you take more?” His eyes are so bright blue they burn to look at, but you can’t stop yourself, nodding and cupping his face in return.

“Kiss me please.” He moans at that, slamming his lips down when he rocks his hips, cock filling you so deeply you scream into his mouth, hands slipping to his hair while he’s got his heavy weight over you.

“I can’t control it anymore, baby, if it’s too much just fucking hit me at this point,” he’s nonsensical, leaning up now, hands on the back of your thighs in a mating press, fucking you hard now, powerful strokes that take you the fuck out, cumming in moments with a few strokes, making him whimper.

That’s a sound you know he’s never made.

You may be delusional, but you’re sure you’ve only heard him whimper for you, you’ve never seen that look in his eyes on any video or stream, not when he’s staring right into your fucking soul and slamming his cock deep over and over. You’re barely able to cling to the earth, so much pleasure rushing through your body, you feel every vein and ridge of that huge cock as it fucks into you.

“Perfect, pussy is perfect, fucking knew it but god. God… fucking feel her,” he slams into you again, head falling back, giving you a view of his throat before he eyes you once more, shaking his head and slamming his cock harder. “Can she take it?”

You just nod, you’d take anything, the way it feels to be ruined by Satoru Gojo is far beyond his balls slapping your ass, his cock stretching your cunt, his hands bruising your fucking thighs, no it was more. You want to be filled by him, folded under him, you want every bit of it, losing yourself in him, in his bright blue eyes, in his filthy fucking words, in his cock slamming your cervix.

You were ruined, and you knew it.

You feel too much, far too much, when he’s leaned back, holding your thighs high and watching his cock pull out and enter, slowing and rubbing your abused clit. “F-fuck, cum one more time, I’m close… your cunt is so fucking perfect, shit… c’mon, like a good girl, there you go baby…”

It’s like that goddamn dream.

Word for word.

You cum harder than you have, when he shoves into the hilt, stuffing your slutty little hole, blinded and dizzy, hardly able to breathe, while he watches you shatter under him, so fucking beautiful he can’t take it. Your brows drawn together, that sweat making your skin glisten, your mouth open in the sluttiest O, he can hardly stand what the image does to him.

He knows it then, he’s fucking beyond destroyed, and terrified at that fact, at the power you’re oblivious to over him. He almost busts inside you, something he has never done - he doesn’t even go without condoms - the thoughts of filling your cunt full are far, far too tempting. He stops himself, cursing and holding his slick cock at the base while you’re spasming around him, back arching.

“Where do you want all this cum, sweetheart?” He manages to ask, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, blinking Satoru’s white hair and pretty face into view as he pulses inside you, just thickening and making you whimper.

“W-what… where… you want, I… mnh!” You’re still cumming, aftershocks rocking you, making your skin so sensitive when he eases your sore thighs down, parting them and pulling out finally, stroking himself as you catch your breath, watching him spurt thick white ropes all over your cunt. “Oh! Oh…”

“Fuck, fuck… god… oh my…” He’s moaning as he’s desperately jerking his slick cock, so much cum it seems impossible, since he just busted so much, and you watch him, enthralled as the hot sticky sperm is coating your cunt. “God, look at it, fucking look at us baby.”

He’s too much, he’s too much.

You thought him eating you out fucked you up mentally, what is he, his insane ass eyes bright as he trembles, strong muscles bunching and tensing, a work of fucking art pouring his cum on you. You’re stuck, at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing, brain not even functional as you look up at this man, knowing this isn’t just sex, it fucking couldn’t be.

It can’t be like this with someone.

You almost spill every feeling then and there, lost in him, in his desperation when he rests his head on yours, moaning against your lips, tip brushing your engorged clit and making you whine out. “God, your pussy is too perfect, it’s… you’re too perfect, feel too good, look too good…”

“Satoru, are you okay?” You whisper softly, he’s slurring his words, almost hard to understand in their hushed whispers in between his pants.

He can’t even answer, pulling back and looking at your pretty cunt, all abused from his cock and puffy, covered in his white ropes. “Can I have a picture? Please, just for me.”

“Y-you want one?” He laughs softly, breathless, nodding, and you heat up at it, looking down shyly. 

“Only you can be adorable with your pussy beat up and coated in cum, huh?”

“Oh god!” He can’t take it, how cute you are, the affection eating at him, as he takes a deep breath, leaning back. “Just one.”

“Fuck…” He takes the phone, eyeing the amount of comments and tips while your breasts heave, trying to catch your breath, sticky cum dripping across your folds when you shift your hips.

“What is it?” You ask softly, he shows you the number, and your eyes nearly bulge out. “Holy fuck!?”

“This is good even for me, shit. Pussy is made for porn.” You’re blushing harder, biting your lower lip when he angles the camera, taking several photos and exhaling at how pretty it looks. “God, look at you.”

“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” He grins then, so boyish and charming it’s as if he wasn’t just fucking you into a mating press and filming your cunt. “Also I said one!”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up.” He’s kissing your thighs then, lapping some of his own cum off your slit, you gasp at the sensation, his tongue on your sore, overstimulated pussy now. Your hands entangle in his hair as he groans. “Fucking taste us.”

“Satoru you’re in-insane and- mnh! Fuck!” You’re shaking when he laps more off of you, desperately lapping at every inch of your cunt now. “Satoru!”

“Gotta clean my pretty costar up, she’s only my costar you know, only one I’ve ever-” He pauses, stopping himself, when you eye him, breasts still gently moving up and down as you eye him.

“Only one you’ve… ngh! Satoru!”

“Taste us.” He’s lapped more of his cum and yours, murmuring for you to open, which you eagerly do, letting him spit his cum and yours in your throat. “Swallow, there you go, see it’s perfect, huh?”

You’re lost then, in the filthy string of words, when he’s back down cleaning you up with a tongue that’s lethal in its precision, rocking his cock on the bed, hard for the third time with you as he moans desperately against you. He’s latched onto your clit, sucking, while you can’t stop cumming, pushed past overstimulation, but not once do you tell him to stop.

You want it.

You need it.

In tears from how much you’ve cum, desperate for more, swapping his cum and yours mixing, against your tongues as he talks you through it, as you lose yourself, Jenna told you not to, she told you not to forget. You are trying to keep it separated, but how the fuck can you?

It felt worth losing yourself, for him, under him, him inside you - around you - taking over everything, while he’s back inside you, his lips murmuring desperate, dirty words into your sweet mouth. When you’re so fucked out you actually pass out blissfully in his arms, you can’t even remember the girl you were a few weeks ago, waking up just to be filled by him again from behind.

Being in his arms, you hope it’ll counteract the pain when he moves on, when he’s kissing you while fucking you from the back, sweet little nothings against your lips filling the room along with the squelching of his cock filling your cunt again. Every inch of your body kissed by him, licked by him, head to your fucking toes, shifting you to some other dimension as you drink each other in, exhausted and desperate.

You’ll think about that pain later, for now it’s all pleasure, aside from the ache in your heart for more, endlessly more.

The love on this story is so sweet, it's FAR from over. Please be patient as these are long chaps and I have other projects, if you're not on the tags you can subscribe to me on ao3 or turn on notifs <3 Can't wait to hear your thoughts

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

[sparrows4bats]

So I need to talk about Damian and Wonder Woman. Also, the acrobat on tiktok inspired this a bit.

Damian adores her, and the feeling is 100 per cent mutual.

Like when they interact in the comics it's so funny and oftentimes so heartfelt.

Diana is the daughter of a God and a queen burdened by legacy and truths hidden from her. She is a complex character who tries to live up to the expectations of those she was raised to lead while also trying to protect the innocents of a culture that sometimes despises her.

She looks at Damian Al Ghul Wayne and sees a mirror. Sees the rage, the doubt and need to prove yourself. All things she feels and wishes she did not. The little Robin is so young to be this troubled.

So she tries her best to help. The boy, while quite verbose in his barbs, is respectful to those who have earned it, loyal and unendingly kind. (He was raised by Talia, Damian Wayne, respects women!!)

Diana spars with the little warrior, and they bond over their shared love of swords. He is quite feirce and after he compliments her own skills they start teaching eachother different fighting styles from their homelands.

Damian shows her his art after she catches him sketching, Diana, who has worked as a curator for years, is suitably impressed with his talent and gives him feedback. Damian later gives her a sketch of herself in the heat of battle. She smiles and has this precious treasure framed.

When Damian trusts her a little more, he introduces her to his pets, and she falls in love with the small zoo that Damian has befriended. She especially loves Goliath, but Damian gets a haunted look in his eyes when he explains how he met the dragon bat. Diana just hugs him. There's nothing she can say that the young warrior doesn't already know. (Damian names one of Batcows progeny Wondercow in her honour, and Diana can't think of a better tribute!)

They grow closer after that, She and Damian have tea when they have time and Damian tells her about how Clarks son left and came back a man he didn't recognise anymore. Diana thinks of her own immortality and advises him to stay with Jon, that he will need his friendship now more than ever. Damian takes her advice seriously.

He endeavours to be a better friend to her as well after that, too.

When she has Lizzie, her beautiful daughter, there's no one she trusts more with her than Damian, whom she watched grow up to be a man with more honour than almost any she's ever known. (If Jon joins him, she just enjoys Damians' reaction to the new Superman.)

When Lizzie comes home excited about her adventures and calling Damian big brother all Diana can feel is warm. (She trusts Damian to protect her, she helped train him. She is less enthused about the swear words Lizzie now innocently repeats.)

When Damian decides to become a healer. Finally leading his own path, despite his Fathers protests. Diana is nothing but supportive. She takes Damian into her home while he goes to med school, Lizzie is over the moon to live with her brother from now on.

Diana takes Bruce aside and beats sense into his emotionally constipated skull, but doesn't send Damian home for a while. It's too much fun to have the Dragons and her little warrior around the house.

When Damian becomes a doctor, he handles a lot of the other heros health care, and Diana grants him permission to study in Themyscara so he can provide proper care to the amazons that live in man's world. The other amazons are wary and cold but slowly warm to the young doctor that fights with the fury of Ares chosen to protect his patients. Like any good Amazonian healer.

When Lizzie tells her about walking in on Jon kissing Damian, both Mother and Daughter have a good time threatening the Super to ensure his continued respect for their favourite man. (She does think they are very cute together.)

Batman and Superman are upset that Diana knew about their sons dating before they did.

[lovelake]

Sol hastily accepts your phone call all the while his hand is two minutes away from making him see stars.

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | MDNI, 700+ wc drabble, masturbation, fantasized oral (receiving), takes place at the end of the 1st day

note: title is from the song ‘serial killer’ by ldr <3 as always, comments and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for all the support on the last fic !! alsoo i would love tkatb mutuals, so if anyone would like to be mutuals lmk 🫶

masterlist read on ao3 requests open

This was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. He should’ve let your call ring until it ended. Rationality flew out the window when it came to you, though. 

“–anyways, I don't want to like…force you to come to the party or anything. Honestly, I’m not really into it but I’d feel kinda bad not going.” 

Right. The Halloween costume party. That’s what you were talking about. 

It felt like he was being edged. He couldn’t even be quiet in public spaces, he had to punch someone earlier for hearing him in the bathroom! There was another option entirely, one easier than being quiet—just stop—but he wasn’t about to do that.

He was getting lost in the clouds of his dangerous imagination once again. You were here at his house, in his room, on his bed. You were edging him. He wasn’t touching himself, it was your hand stroking him instead. Up ‘n down, nice ‘n slow. 

“Sol?”

Fuck. 

“Sorry, yeah.” Keep your breathing under control. “It’s not my thing either, but…uh, if you’re going then I want to go too.”

A lot could happen in a couple hours on campus grounds, he wasn’t letting you out of his sight, especially not at night.

“We can sulk together, then! I think it’s free. Let me double check…yeah, it’s free for admitted students. We just need to RSVP.”

“Cool.” If he kept his replies short then maybe you wouldn’t catch the shakiness in his voice. 

“Do you have a costume?”

“No, you?” 

“Nope.” You sighed, the sound made his mind fuzzy. “And I don’t really have any cool clothes to make one. I was thinking of checking out some stores sometime this week…wanna come with?”

“Right there…”

“What?”

“I’ll be there.”

There was no way you didn't notice the sound of his bedsheets rustling. But he could hear you start rambling, so he was in the clear for now. Art class, project, tired—just a few key words and phrases he managed to pick up on.

He envisioned you perfectly, head settled right between his thighs.

Would you be sweet and kiss it all over? Start from the bottom and trail up until you finally reach the tip? Suck for a while, pull it out with a pop, rest your cheek against his inner thigh to rest, then do it again? Once he finished, would you look at him lovingly and tell him how much you like him?

Or maybe you’d be more intense with him—take him right into your mouth and leave him an immediate moaning mess. A single bat of your lashes and a second of eye contact would make him topple over. Then you’d open your mouth nice and wide to show him you took it all.

Either way, he’d pull you up and kiss you, mumbling strings of praises in between each one before pressing you into the mattress to return the gesture.

Everything felt hot. Too hot. He needed to cool off. He lifted his shirt just above his nipples. They were already hard and proudly showing off their barbell jewelry.

He was close. Please hang up, he can’t hold it in. He was pathetic when it came to self-control. But what kind of person calls someone this late at night instead of just texting, anyway? He really hadn’t expected this while going about his usual nightly routine. 

And just when he thought he was doing a good job of keeping it in, he let a loud sharp gasp escape. 

Silence. He could hear his own heartbeat. 

You’d think nothing of it.

You’d think nothing of it.

You’d think nothing of it. 

“Was that a yawn?” You apologetically asked the question under your breath, like you were speaking to yourself for a brief moment. 

Then your voice picked back up. “Sorry for calling so late, I forgot it’s almost midnight! Anyways, I’ll let you go…good night. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sol.”

“…Night…” 

You hung up. Bless your heart, you barely managed to dodge the breathless moan of your name spilling from him. 

Dopamine in the shape of small hearts flooded his brain, static flowed through his veins. All his cells have the purpose of loving you, nothing else. He wouldn't have it any other way. It’s such a shame the testament of his utmost devotion had to land on his stomach instead of inside you where it belonged.

The haziness slowly died down, he opened his eyes—immediately met with the patch of pictures of you hung on his wall. How could such a perfect person exist? Gaze trailing down towards his counter, he could see an empty container, the one he kept all those sleeping pills in. He’d have to ask Hyugo for more.

[simplygojo]

Friend-Of-A-Friend ⸺ Chapter Three

author's note ⸺ Hello gang! So happy you guys are liking this series, I love it, and I luv u <3 pairing ⸺ Suguru Geto x Reader content ⸺ platonic-bestie!gojo, corporate-worker!reader, slight tension, studying mentioned, modern au, the good-ole-days, reader uses female pronouns, 4.2k, this is an 18+ series - mdni divider credit: @/toastray ୨୧ art credit: @/juziluohai

previous chapter ୨୧ series masterlist ୨୧ next chapter

Sleep came quickly, tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

Then—just as you were about to slip under completely…

Your phone buzzed against the nightstand.

Your eyes cracked open, pulse skipping despite yourself. For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it.

But eventually, you did. 

You turned over swiftly, the sheets rustling as you reached out, fingers fumbling against the smooth surface of your nightstand. 

The cool metal of your phone met your palm, and you pulled it close, the glow of the screen cutting through the dim room as you blinked against the brightness.

Your thumb hovered over the screen for just a second before you swiped to unlock it. The notification stared back at you, crisp and clear against the dark backdrop of your bedroom.

Geto: How’s Friday?

Your breath left you in a slow exhale.

Not a lot of fanfare. No excessive punctuation, no embellishments. Just a simple question, efficient and to the point—exactly like how you remembered him.

Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen, where the time blinked back at you—10:42 PM. Wednesday. 

Two days.

A part of you had half-expected to wait another few days before he got back to you. Maybe the plans would fall through entirely, slipping through the cracks of life’s inevitable distractions. But there he was, responding just hours after you reached out.

You licked your lips, your fingers tapping out a quick reply.

You: Works for me. What time?

The three little dots blinked on the screen almost immediately.

Geto: I’m assuming you work until 5…does 5:30 work?

You: Yeah, that’s fine. Where where you thinking?

Geto: I’ll send you the location on Friday morning. Looking forward to catching up :)

You stared at the screen for a beat longer than necessary, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before you typed—

You: Sounds good. Me too.

Too much? Maybe. But before you could second-guess it, the message was sent, disappearing into the ether of late-night conversation.

The read receipt popped up almost instantly, followed by one more reply.

Geto: Dream sweet.

Simple. Unassuming. And yet, it left something warm curling in your stomach.

You set your phone down on the nightstand, exhaling as you sank deeper into the pillows. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city beyond your window, but your mind was anything but still.

It had been a long time since you last saw him. Since you last spoke like this, in small, measured words that somehow still felt significant. It was just dinner. 

Just a catch-up between two people with a mutual friend. 

Two friends-of-friends catching up…That’s all.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

Morning came too soon, the alarm slicing through the quiet like a dull blade. 

A sharp inhale, a stretch, the heavy warmth of sleep still clinging to your limbs. 

But before you even shifted beneath the covers, your hand had already reached for your phone, fingers wrapping around its familiar weight.

The screen lit up. No new messages. No last-minute changes. Just the same notification from last night, waiting in silence.

You weren’t sure what you had expected…A follow-up? A confirmation? Something to make the evening ahead feel more real? Whatever it was, it wasn’t there.

The morning routine carried on as always—water rushing against porcelain, steam curling over the bathroom mirror, the muted sound of the city filtering in through the window. 

Everything was the same. Everything should have felt the same. 

But there was something about today, a small hitch in the rhythm, an offbeat in the usual melody of your day.

At work, tasks filled the hours like usual. Emails stacked into neat little rows, keyboards clicked in hurried bursts, voices blurred into the steady hum of office chatter. 

You answered messages, skimmed reports, lost yourself in half-distracted conversations.

And yet—before noon, your hand found your phone again.

A flick of the screen. A glance. Still nothing.

You weren’t sure why you kept checking. It wasn’t like you normally did this.

Your messages weren’t exactly unpredictable.

Gojo texted often, usually in long, chaotic bursts—half-thoughts, inside jokes, dramatized retellings of his latest workplace disaster. 

Your roommate’s texts were more routine—grocery lists, rent reminders, the occasional complaint about your neighbours. A familiar pattern, easy to follow, easy to expect.

But now?

Now, your fingers hovered over the screen for just a second longer than necessary before you locked it again, pressing it face-down against your desk, pressing your fingers into your temples briefly before forcing yourself to refocus.

Lunch came and went in a series of half-heard conversations. The scent of reheated leftovers hung in the air, blending with the ever-present bitterness of burnt office coffee. 

A coworker complained about their weekend plans, and another debated whether they had time to grab a latte before their next meeting. 

You responded when necessary, nodding at the right times, but your mind remained elsewhere—somewhere just outside of reach.

Then—without thinking—you picked up your phone again.

Still nothing.

You exhaled, locking the screen and setting it aside. You didn’t know what you were expecting to happen. It wasn’t as if anything had changed since the last time you checked. 

And yet, the absence of a message felt noticeable in a way that it shouldn’t have.

By mid-afternoon, the habit had settled in.

Your hand moved before you could stop yourself, unlocking the screen with a flick of your thumb. Waiting.

But the screen remained the same—quiet, still, steady.

And yet, despite that silence, tomorrow night loomed closer. Inevitable.

The weight of it settled in long before the day had ended. 

The thought of being alone with him for hours wove itself into the spaces between tasks, filling the pauses in conversation, curling around every absent glance at your phone.

At some point, the screen stayed dark long enough for a sense of finality to creep in. No more checking. No more reaching. It didn’t change anything.

Still, something simmered beneath your skin, restless and unresolved.

The feeling made no sense. 

Geto had never been a source of unease before. 

If anything, he was one of the easiest people to be around—steady, unhurried, a presence that never demanded anything from you. His words always measured, his energy effortless. 

He was a fixture in the periphery, present in the way a familiar song fills the background of a car ride, inextricably linked to something larger.

Gojo.

Geto had always been part of a pair—One half of a whole. 

His presence had been a condition of Gojo’s—the two of them moving through the world like a force of nature, colliding with everything in their path, dragging you along in their wake.

Conversations that turned into debates, nights that stretched too late, laughter that came easy, never isolated, never belonging to just one of them.

Tomorrow would be different.

Tomorrow, there would be no Gojo.

The realization sat heavy, threading unease through the anticipation. This was new. Unfamiliar. 

The rhythm had changed, and you weren’t sure what to do with the space it left behind.

The walk home felt longer than usual. 

The city hummed around you, headlights casting fractured light against wet pavement, snippets of conversations floating past in bursts of sound. A car horn. A ringing phone. The hiss of a bus kneeling at the curb.

Inside your apartment, the quiet stretched. 

The overhead light flickered once before settling. A jacket shrugged off, shoes nudged aside, the soft creak of wood under your steps. The routine unfolded like muscle memory—bag on the counter, fridge open, fridge closed, a glass of water filled and left untouched.

Then—your phone, facedown where you had left it.

Fingers hesitated before reaching. The screen lit up, bright against the dim kitchen. Nothing new.

A slow breath pushed through your chest.

Tomorrow loomed ahead, fixed and inevitable.

A meeting set in place, agreed upon in neutral tones, as casual as a hundred other plans that had come before it. 

But still, something shifted under the surface, unspoken and undefined.

There was no reason for this weight in your stomach. No logic to the way your pulse had started counting down hours before the night had even arrived.

And yet—

Your grip tightened around the phone. The glow of the screen faded to black.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

Friday Morning at 5:45am

The alarm cut through the stillness, its sharp trill pulling you from sleep. A breath, slow and steady, before your hand reached out, silencing it with a practiced swipe.

For a moment, you stayed there—burrowed beneath the blankets, eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains. The weight of the day settled in, stretching out ahead of you in quiet inevitability.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up.

The floor was cool beneath your feet as you padded toward the bathroom, the fluorescent light flickering to life above the mirror. Water rushed against porcelain, the steady rhythm filling the quiet as you rinsed sleep from your skin.

Back in your bedroom, the closet door yawned open, revealing rows of neatly hung blouses, slacks folded with precision, dresses lined up like choices waiting to be made.

The usual routine would be easy—something simple, something safe. But today, your fingers lingered a little longer, hovering between options, the usual rhythm disrupted by something almost imperceptible.

It wasn’t like this was anything special. Just another workday. Just dinner after. Nothing to warrant the quiet indecision pressing at the edges of your thoughts.

And yet—your hand skipped past the standard choices, grazing over fabric with absent consideration.

The crisp button-down felt too stiff, the usual sweater too plain. A dress, maybe? No, too much.

Eventually, you settled on something in between—polished but not overdone. Something that fit seamlessly into the workday but still felt…intentional.

The fabric smoothed over your frame as you adjusted the hem, checking the mirror with a glance that lasted a beat too long.

Still, there was no real reason for this hesitation. No reason at all.

And yet—

The thought slipped away as your phone buzzed from the nightstand, breaking the quiet with a sharp vibration.

Your breath stilled.

You hesitated for only a second before walking over to it and picking it up.

Your fingers tightened around your phone before turning the screen toward you.

Geto: Morning. Here’s the place for tonight.

A location link followed, sitting there unassuming, waiting to be pressed.

Your thumb hesitated over the screen before tapping it. The maps app opened, the address pulling up with a smooth flicker. 

A small pin dropped into place, marking a street you didn’t immediately recognize—tucked between taller buildings, almost easy to miss. 

The image loaded, revealing a dark storefront, nothing but a sleek, unmarked door tucked beneath a flickering neon sign.

You swiped through the photos. 

Inside, the space stretched narrow, lined with moody lighting and dark wood, bottles glinting along an illuminated back bar. 

The kind of place that didn’t need to advertise itself—exclusive but not pretentious, refined but comfortable. 

And the food—unexpectedly elaborate for a bar, plated like something out of a fine dining restaurant.

Of course.

Something about it felt so distinctly him—lowkey but effortlessly cool, the kind of place you’d never have found on your own.

Before you could type out a response, another message drew your eyes to the top of your screen.

Geto: If you tell me which station you're at, I can meet you there.

Your breath stalled, pulse knocking against your ribs in a way that made no sense.

The words sat there, simple and unassuming, yet something about them sent a ripple through your chest.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard.

It was a thoughtful offer—practical, even. 

It would make things easier, and save you from navigating alone, from the awkward shuffle of stepping into a new place by yourself. A small thing.

Still, a strange tension crept into your shoulders.

Geto had always been easygoing, a casual presence that had never demanded anything from you. But that presence had always been conditional—always shadowed by Gojo’s loud energy, balanced by the familiar push-and-pull of their dynamic.

Now, without that buffer—without Gojo filling the space between you—it felt different.

Not bad, not uncomfortable, just… noticeable.

You smoothed your hand over the fabric of your skirt, fingers tracing absent patterns against the hem.

Maybe it was the anticipation humming beneath your skin. The awareness of the hours still stretched between now and tonight, every moment edged with something undefined.

Maybe it was the way Geto’s name looked on your screen—alone, unaccompanied, as if he existed in a separate context now.

Or maybe it was nothing at all.

You exhaled, slow and steady, before typing out a response.

You: It’s okay, I can just meet you there.

The message sent in an instant. Final.

You locked your phone, setting it facedown against the vanity as if that might quiet the small, unspoken weight in your chest.

Then, a breath.

‘Alright tine to get yourself together…’ You thought to yourself

The routine should have unfolded as usual, the same series of motions you could do half-asleep.

But today, each step carried a little more weight.

You reached for your makeup bag, fingers brushing over familiar products. Concealer smoothed over skin, concealer dabbed beneath your eyes—nothing too heavy, just enough. 

A sweep of blush, a touch more than usual. A careful flick of eyeliner, precise and steady, stretching just a little further than the way you usually wore it.

Your reflection stared back at you, almost unchanged—almost.

The brush glided through your hair in slow, deliberate strokes, smoothing flyaways, shaping strands into something more intentional. A little extra effort. Nothing obvious, nothing dramatic, just…more.

The soft chime of a notification pulled you from the mirror. Not Geto—just an email reminder, something about a report due by noon.

A quick glance at the clock on your wall let you know it was time to go.

You grabbed your bag, slipping your phone inside before second-guessing and tucking it into your jacket pocket instead. 

Shoes on, keys in hand, one last look around the apartment before stepping out into the crisp morning air.

The city stretched ahead, unchanged, unaware. 

But as your footsteps carried you down the shiny tiled stairs, something lingered in your chest—light but steady, like a held breath waiting to be released.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

The clock inched toward 5 p.m., the final minutes of the day ticking away slowly, yet with an urgency you could feel in your bones.

It had been one of the busiest Fridays you’d ever had—emails to answer, reports to review, meetings that bled into each other without any real break. The pressure was constant, a low hum beneath your thoughts, and yet… you were grateful for it. 

Grateful that there was no room for your mind to wander, no space for thoughts to spiral. 

If today had been any slower, if you’d had even a moment of quiet, you knew exactly where your thoughts would have gone.

To Geto. To tonight. 

To the pull in your chest that wouldn’t seem to loosen, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

You backed up your things a few minutes early, tucking everything into your bag with methodical precision. It wasn’t until you had everything in place, zipper pulled tight, that you realized you were practically holding your breath.

Five o'clock.

Finally.

You stood up, brushing a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, and made your way to the door. 

The office was quieting down, the buzz of energy that had filled the room all day beginning to dissipate as everyone else filtered out. You left without another glance back, fingers pressing the button for the elevator.

Outside, the city was as busy as always, people rushing by, their faces a blur. You slipped into the flow, a part of it, but somehow still detached. Every step took you closer to the subway, closer to the anticipation that built in your chest.

It wasn’t that you were nervous, exactly. No, that wasn’t quite right. You were just… unsettled. A kind of restlessness that had no real source.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and typed out a quick message to Geto:

You: On my way over.

The text sent, and within seconds, the three dots blinked back at you.

Geto: See you soon.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. It was almost a relief that he replied so quickly—something about it soothed the jittery feeling that hadn’t quite settled.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, you descended the stairs to the platform, your feet tapping lightly against the ground in rhythm with the train’s arrival. 

But even as you joined the crowd and boarded the car, your mind drifted to that last time you saw him—the night that felt so far away and yet so close.

It had been just after graduation, the last time you were all together like that.

A night of drinking, good food, and laughter, shared memories of the years behind you, of the moments that had solidified your friendship. 

You leaned back against the cold train window, eyes closed for just a moment as you let the memories sweep over you.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

*1 year and 3 months prior — Graduation Celebration at KBBQ*

Graduation had come quicker than expected–It truly felt like a finish line that once felt distant was now suddenly beneath your feet. 

The ceremony itself had been a blur—flashes of caps in the air, the hum of applause, the stiff feeling of formalwear that barely felt like your own.

But this? This dinner, this night, this group—this was what felt real.

Somewhere between the first introductions and the years spent studying together, these people had become a constant. 

Not just classmates or drinking buddies, but something more—a tangle of friendships built over sleepless nights, library study sessions, and long conversations that stretched past closing hours at your favourite spots.

Gojo had been the first familiar face, but through him, the circle expanded. Geto, quieter but no less magnetic. Shoko, always ready with a sharp remark. Nanami, steady and unwavering. Utahime, initially wary of Gojo’s chaos but undeniably part of the group. Hibara, warm and easygoing, always pulling everyone together.

The group had settled into something comfortable, something natural. 

And tonight, for what might be the last time in a while, everyone was here.

The Korean barbeque restaurant buzzed with the warmth of lively conversations and sizzling grills. 

The sharp scent of spices and grilled meat filled the air as the plates kept coming, steam rising from the center of the table where everyone sat clustered around. 

The group was loud, a mix of voices competing with the hum of the crowd and the crackling sounds of the grill. Gojo's booming laugh punctuated the noise every so often, drawing chuckles from Shoko and Hibara, who were sitting beside from him.

You sat between Utahime and Geto, the cool air from the ceiling fans brushing your skin, just enough to keep the warmth of the meal from becoming too much. 

The grill tables were relatively small, so Geto was close, his knee brushing yours under the table as the group passed plates of food around. 

He didn’t seem to mind, just as you didn’t, the space between you both shrinking with each subtle shift.

Occasionally, Geto would lean in slightly when he spoke to you, his breath almost grazing your ear as he commented on the food or made a quiet remark about something Gojo had said. 

The closeness felt natural—effortless, and yet, in a way, it stood out. 

A part of you noticed how much quieter it felt when his voice dropped to a low hum as if sharing something just between you.

Across the table from you, Gojo made some outrageous comment, his animated gestures nearly knocking over his drink, and everyone burst into laughter. Your gaze met Geto’s in the midst of it all—his eyes holding yours for a fraction longer than anyone else’s. 

It wasn’t an obvious moment, just a quiet beat where his stare lingered, and you couldn’t help but notice the pull, the intensity beneath it, even if you quickly looked away to join in the laughter.

The evening stretched on, the conversation meandering between stories and jokes, but there was always something in Geto’s attention when it turned toward you. 

When plates of food arrived, he was the first to make sure your plate was full, his hand brushing against yours each time as he slid something onto your side of the grill. 

"Here," Geto said, his voice steady as he slid a piece of cooked meat onto your plate. 

He glanced at you, a quiet certainty in his expression, lips tugging into a small, effortless smile—like he knew something you didn’t.

"Thanks," you replied, your gaze briefly meeting his again before turning back to the others.

His eyes stayed on you for just a second longer than they should have, a quiet intensity hidden behind the casualness of his smile. 

There was no hurry in his movements as he leaned back slightly, his attention still fixed on you as you returned to the conversation.

Gojo, sitting directly across from you, noticed how Geto was looking at you. His eyes gleamed with mischief as a knowing smirk grew upon his lips. His hand tapped the edge of his glass as he made sure his gaze found Geto’s.

Before Gojo could say anything, Utahime cut in, her voice light as she dragged Gojo into her conversation.

"I always thought you were the one who thought you were above all the tests and exams, Gojo," she said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

"But look at you now. Obviously, you weren’t entirely ‘above’ it all, or you wouldn’t have graduated!."

A laugh bubbled up from you, easy and warm, the playful jab aimed at Gojo hitting the right note.

Geto’s eyes flicked toward you instinctively, a slight shift in his posture as he watched you laugh. 

For just a second, his gaze softened, lingering on the way your eyes crinkled and your mouth curved up. 

It was subtle, but the way he looked at you in that moment—unobstructed and full of quiet admiration—was impossible to miss, even if you didn’t notice.

Gojo rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his own chuckle, clearly unbothered by Utahime’s jab. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’m the only one keeping this table from sinking into the abyss of academic mediocrity and you all know it."

His words were light, but his gaze flicked over briefly to Geto again, catching something in the way he sat facing you, the way his attention never seemed to stray too far from you—and Gojo noticed, how could he not? 

The night went on, but the unspoken connection between you and Geto never fully slipped away. 

Every now and then, when you caught his eye again, there was something that was undeniably there—a spark that he didn’t try to hide, but never overtly acknowledged. It was quiet, comfortable, and real in a way that felt like it had always been.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

You stepped off the subway car, your shoes clicking softly against the platform as you shook off the last remnants of your thoughts.

The evening air outside felt cooler than you expected, the slight breeze tugging at your sleeves as you ascended the stairs.

 The weight of your bag settled comfortably against your shoulder, and with every step upward, the tension in your chest seemed to loosen just a little, like a knot unwinding slowly.

The train ride had felt long despite the short distance. 

Anticipation had gnawed at you the entire way, but now, with the weight of the day finally behind you, there was a space in your mind where you could let your thoughts breathe.

It was almost calming, knowing that once you stepped out of the subway station, you’d be heading straight to the bar to meet Geto. A casual evening with no expectations. 

Just the two of you.

You reached the top of the stairs, the sound of your footsteps fading into the background as you made your way toward the exit. 

The station was busy with the usual rush of people, but your eyes were focused on the small patch of city street ahead, imagining the two-minute walk to the bar, the dim lighting, the low hum of voices inside.

But as you turned the corner—

There he was.

Your steps faltered.

Standing just beyond the turnstiles, casually leaning against a pillar, one hand in his pocket, the other offering a small, easy wave. 

The half-lit fluorescents cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the familiar, effortless coolness of him, making everything around him fade just slightly.

Geto. Here.

His expression softened as he watched you stumble a bit over your own feet, and his smile grew just a little, as if he were waiting for you to get your bearings, to process the fact that he was standing here, in front of you, instead of across the table at the bar like you had expected.

"Hey," he said, his voice a touch smoother than usual, though it still held that casual tone that you recognized. 

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[stellaspectral]

okay i read your latest bayverse raphael x female reader (don’t know when you’ll read my request so i’ll add that it’s the one where she ask raph for things to draw in her sketchbook and the brothers are watching them and teasing raph) and i want to ask a continuation to that! i’m not the anon who asked that request but it was sooooo cute and funny and my heart melted and i need moooooore! maybe the reader ask if she can draw raph because she thinks he’s handsome and he just short-circuits because what? the girl of his dreams finds him, a giant-mutant-talking-turtle with anger issues, handsome!?!? and then maybe the reader finds the courage to ask him out on a date because she can see that raph is really insecure and he would probably never ask, but she likes him a lot too and she wants to start a relationship with him. i just need more fluff and softness between them and someone who will show to raph that he can be loved even if he doesn’t think so! if you add some teasing but very happy for him brothers in the background again i would be very happy! you write their personalities so well, i was grinning and kicking my feet the whole time!

A/N: I’m so happy you enjoyed Drawn to You enough to request a follow-up! For anyone who hasn’t read it yet, please do so—because this sequel won’t be as impactful without its context!

I didn’t make Raph’s brothers appear quite as prominently as last time. Because I’d like to think Leo told Donnie and Mikey to give them some breathing room so Raph and the reader can figure things out. Gotta have the oldest look out for his younger brother after all—though even he can’t resist a little teasing himself. 😉

Sketched in My Heart (fluff/mild angst)

❤️ Bayverse Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Fluff, mutual pining, insecurity, mild angst, confessions, teasing siblings, and some light swearing. All characters are aged-up.

You’re back on your perch on the couch in the lair.

Already, you’ve sketched a few things: one of Leo’s katanas resting beside a meditation mat, the lava lamp on the stand beside you, and a mug with Sensei-tional Brew written on it (a gift from Mikey to Splinter) on the coffee table. But you find your attention drifting.

In his room, Raph is delivering a series of powerful strikes to the punching bag—the one you had drawn a week ago. You recall how adorable he was describing each tear and flaw in the material. But it isn’t long before you start watching him, how the muscles beneath his skin coil and release like massive springs. How he moves with a brutal but captivating grace.

He finishes a combination with a final, resounding thwack, making the chains suspending the bag groan as it swings wildly. For a moment, he stands, chest heaving, sweat highlighting the planes of his formidable physique. He turns, wiping his brow with the back of his hand—and his eyes meet yours for a split second before he glances away.

Your pulse skips like it always does when Raph catches you staring. Softly, you clear your throat and look down at your sketchbook, pretending to adjust a detail, even though your pencil hasn’t touched the paper in at least five minutes. You take a breath and attempt to focus on your art, but it’s no longer a good enough distraction.

You steal another glance at Raph. He’s toweling off now, muscles flexing with the motion. You bite your lip as it hits you all over again; how can he not know what he does to you? The guy moves like a walking tank and has the gentlest soul hidden under all that metaphorical armor. You want to draw that—the real Raphael.

And maybe, for once, say out loud how you see him.

You stand up before you can chicken out, sketchbook in hand, your legs carrying you across the lair before your brain catches up. “Hey, Raph?” you ask, gently tapping the frame of his open door.

He startles a little, caught mid-dab with the towel. “Oh—uh. Hey,” he says, voice rough but soft in the way it always is when it’s you.

“I was wondering …” You chew on your bottom lip, then force yourself to look him in the eyes. “Would you mind if I … drew you?”

His towel pauses halfway to his broad shoulder. “… Huh?”

“Like—you, you. I just …” You take a breath, clutching your sketchbook like a shield and hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel. “You’re … really handsome. And you don’t have to pose or anything! Just be you.”

His jaw drops, eyes wide. He’s short-circuiting. You can see it—Raph, the brawler, the bruiser, the guy who once stood toe-to-toe with Shredder solo, is now rendered momentarily speechless by your words. His towel hangs forgotten in his hand and he looks at you like he’s not sure he heard right. “You … think I’m handsome?” he finally says, like the idea never even occurred to him before.

“I know you are,” you say, softly but firmly.

He makes a noise—something between a cough and a choke—and turns half-away, rubbing at the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool. But failing miserably. “I, uh … yeah. Sure. If ya want.” His voice is lower now, shyer. “Don’t see why ya’d wanna draw me, though.”

“You’re strong. And you carry so much on your shoulders, but you still protect everyone. That’s amazing, Raph.” You flush a little but push on. “And yes, you’re really handsome.” You offer a small, tentative smile. “And I think you should see how I see you.”

You don’t think it’s possible, but somehow his face gets so red, you think it might match his mask.

He swallows, a visible bob in his throat. The hand holding the towel clenches, then slowly unfurls. His gaze, which had skittered away, flicks back to yours, wide and uncharacteristically uncertain. The usual hard glint is missing, replaced by something softer. “Damn. That’s … that’s somethin’, alright.”

You tilt your head. “Is that a yes, then?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. What the hell—draw away.” He backs up and flops onto the floor mat with a heavy thud. “Just don’t make me look all broody like Leo in meditation, alright?”

You grin, finding a spot to sit nearby before flipping to a fresh page. “No promises, but you do have that tortured soul thing going on,” you tease.

“Ugh,” he groans. “You sound like Mikey.”

He shifts a little, trying to find a comfortable position on the mat, one arm draped loosely over his knee. His other hand toys with the edge of the towel, still fidgety in a way that makes your chest ache with affection.

You set your pencil to paper, letting the first strokes flow. You sketch his strong jawline, the furrow in his brow that never quite smooths out, and those eyes. Even when they’re avoiding yours, they hold a thousand emotions.

He stays still, though you can tell it’s not his natural state. Occasionally, his eyes flick to your face, then dart away again like he’s trying not to be caught looking. You pretend not to notice, even as your heart thuds louder with each glance.

After a while, you break the silence. “You know, you don’t always have to carry it all alone.”

He blinks, looking like you caught him off guard. “Huh?”

You look down at the sketch, then back to him. “The weight, the anger. The way you think you’ve got to be the strong one all the time.” You offer him a gentle smile.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just studies you, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he exhales a slow breath. “Yeah. I know. I just …” His gaze drops. “Sometimes it feels like I gotta be the wall. So nothin’ breaks through. For the family, you know?”

“I get that,” you murmur. “But walls don’t just keep things out. They can trap things in, too.”

He looks at you again, and this time, something in his face softens. Like a wall starting to crumble. “I ain’t used to people seein’ past the tough guy stuff,” he admits.

You hold up the sketchbook and turn it toward him. “Then maybe it’s time someone did.”

His eyes widen as he sees the drawing. It’s not perfect; some lines are rough, a few details unfinished. But the likeness is unmistakable. And more than that, it feels like him. Strong, yes. But thoughtful. Kind. Gentle. You didn’t just draw what he looks like.

You drew what he is.

He stares for a long moment, jaw slack. Then he huffs a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “You got me lookin’ like I’m worth a damn.”

“You are worth a damn, Raph.” You meet his eyes and don’t look away. “You’re worth everything.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged, full of something neither of you have quite named yet. And honestly? It’s also about time someone did put it into words.

Raph’s voice is a low rumble when he finally speaks. “You really think all that?” He gestures vaguely between himself and the sketchbook, still looking a little dazed.

“Every word,” you confirm.

You see the flicker of disbelief in his eyes, the way he almost shrinks into himself, as if your praise is a physical weight he’s not used to carrying in a positive way. He’s so used to criticism, to being the tough one, that genuine affection seems to throw him completely off balance.

His gaze drops to the floor, and he mumbles, “Nah, c’mon. Don’t say stuff like that.” The insecurity is palpable, a heavy cloak he wears too often.

And that’s when you know. You can’t wait for him. He’ll second-guess himself into oblivion, convince himself he’s not good enough, that you couldn’t possibly mean it. But you do.

Your heart hammers against your ribs as you take a deep breath, the air in the room suddenly feeling thick. “Raph,” you begin, your voice a little shakier than you’d like, but you press on. “I really like spending time with you. And … and I like you. A lot.”

He looks up at that, his eyes wide and searching yours. The blush that had started to fade from earlier creeps back up his neck.

“So,” you continue, forging ahead before your courage can desert you, “I was wondering … if maybe … you’d want to go on a date with me?” You rush the last few words out, then clamp your lips shut, waiting, your own cheeks heating up.

The silence stretches as Raph just stares, his mouth opening before closing again. You, on the other hand, feel like your heart is trying to escape your chest with how fast it’s beating. Self-consciously, you wipe your sweaty palms on your pants but still refuse to break eye contact as you wait for his answer.

“A … date?” he finally chokes out, his voice cracking on the word. “With me?” He points at himself, as if to clarify which giant talking turtle with anger issues you could possibly be referring to.

“Yes, Raph. With you,” you say, a small, hopeful smile playing on your lips. “Unless over six-foot-tall, red-masked ninja turtles with a surprising soft spot and impressive muscles are forbidden from dating?” You try for a light tone, hoping to ease the shock radiating off him.

He runs a hand over his head, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape route or perhaps a hidden camera crew. “But why?” he asks, his voice raw with confusion. “I mean, look at me. I’m … this.” He gestures to himself again, a wave of that familiar insecurity washing over his features, momentarily dimming the hopeful spark you thought you saw.

“I am looking at you, Raph,” you say, your voice soft but firm, full of all the sincerity you feel. Gingerly, you move closer. “And I see someone amazing. Someone brave, and loyal, and yeah, a little rough around the edges,” you concede with a gentle smile, “but someone who cares so damn much it practically pours out of him. I see you. And I like what I see. A lot.”

Finally, he grins and shakes his head sheepishly, chuckling softly. “You really don’t quit, do ya? Seriously. A date?”

You nod. “Yeah. We can start small. Grab a slice. Watch a movie. Or, you know, sit in awkward silence and pretend we’re both not nervous wrecks.”

Raph stares at you for another beat. Then, slowly—carefully, like he’s touching something fragile—he reaches out and taps the edge of your sketchbook with one large finger.

“I ain’t good with words,” he says, apologetic. “But yeah. I’d like that. A date. With you.”

Your smile widens. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, the word husky and full of a warmth that makes your insides melt. “Really.”

Just as sweet relief and giddiness bubble up inside you, a voice shatters the moment.

“Oooooooh, Raphie’s got a giiiiirlfriend!”

Of course, that sing-song taunt could only belong to one turtle: Mikey. He stands in the doorway, cupping his hands around his mouth like he wants to announce the news to the whole sewer.

Raph jumps about a foot in the air, whirling around at him. “MIKEY! GET OUTTA HERE, YA LITTLE SNOOP!” he roars, his face instantly turning a shade of red that rivals his mask.

Close on his heels, Donnie peers inside, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Statistically speaking, it was only a matter of time before someone found your emotionally repressed, brooding rage charming.”

“Get outta here, ya knuckleheads!” Raph snaps, balling his fists. “Ain’t you got somethin’ better to do than spy on people?”

“Spying? Us?” Mikey feigns an offended pout, placing a hand over his plastron. “Never!” He flops dramatically onto Raph’s mat, right next to your sketchbook, peering at it with stars in his eyes. “You drew him? Like one of your French turtles?!”

“MIKEY,” Raph snarls, lunging toward him, but Mikey rolls away with a laugh, skidding to a stop against the wall.

Leo appears beside Donnie, arms crossed and expression stern in the way only an older brother’s can be. “Alright, enough. Show’s over,” he scolds, nudging past Donnie to lean down and pat the back of Mikey’s shell. “Let’s give them some space.”

“Awww, but we just got here,” Mikey whines as he stands.

Leo sighs. “You’ve caused enough chaos,” he says, steering his chuckling, protesting brothers outside of the room. Before stepping over the threshold, Leo’s eyes flick toward you, then to Raph, his expression softening with understanding.

Though even Leo can’t resist a bit of teasing.

“We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

Mikey is still making kissing noises as Leo herds them out. He gives the two of you an apologetic smile before firmly shutting Raph’s door, the room suddenly becoming silent. Finally, you feel like you can breathe again.

Raph groans, rubbing a hand down his face as if trying to erase the past sixty seconds from existence. “I am gonna pulverize them,” he mutters, before looking at you with a grimace on his face. “Sorry ‘bout that. They’re … a handful.”

“Well, they are your brothers,” you point out. “Endless teasing is practically an unspoken clause in the sibling contract, right?”

“Yeah. You get used to it. Mostly.” He glances towards the closed door, a muscle working in his jaw as if he can still hear Mikey’s teasing. “They ain’t ever gonna let me live this down.”

You smile gently, closing your sketchbook and setting it beside you. “Maybe not,” you agree as you reach out to brush your fingers lightly over the back of his hand. “But I think that just means they’re happy for you.”

He looks down at your fingers, as if processing the sensation. Then, almost imperceptibly, the tension in his shoulders ease. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, glancing at the door again, “they’re happy they got fresh teasing material for the next decade, more like.” But there’s no actual heat in his words. “Guess you’re right, though. S’pose they’re happy … in their own annoying way.”

He shifts his gaze back to your hand on his. Slowly, hesitantly, he turns his palm upwards, fingers brushing against yours. You gently lace your fingers with his, a pleasant jolt shooting up your arm. He clears his throat, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, then quickly darting away again, a faint blush still dusting his cheeks.

“So, uh … this date thing,” he says. “You’re sure, sure?”

You bring your other hand up to cup his cheek, your thumb stroking the slightly rough skin just below his mask. His eyes widen at the contact, but he leans into your touch. “I’ve never been more sure about anything,” you say earnestly.

He swallows, his gaze locked on yours as he brings his free hand up to cover yours on his cheek, holding it there. “Damn,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. “You really know how to knock a guy off his feet, don’t ya?”

“Only the deserving ones.”

A small, almost shy smile touches Raph’s lips. “Deservin’, huh?” He looks down at your intertwined hands, then back up at your face. “You got a funny way of lookin’ at things. A good way.”

“I just see what’s there,” you murmur, your thumb continuing its soft caress on his cheek. He leans further into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

When he opens them again, there’s a new resolve, a flicker of excitement. “So … this date.” He clears his throat again, the blush still present but fainter now, more like a warm glow. “When were you … uh … thinkin’?”

“Whenever works for you. We could keep it simple. Your lair’s got character,” you say, a teasing glint in your eye, “but maybe somewhere a little more private for a first date? My place, if you’re up for it? Or if you know a quiet spot topside …”

“I know a few spots. Rooftops, mostly. Quiet. Good view of the city. Nobody bothers ya up there.” He looks at you, a silent question in his eyes, as if offering to share something personal.

“A rooftop sounds perfect,” you say softly. “And tonight, maybe? If you’re not too tired.”

“Adrenaline’s still kinda pumpin’, actually.” He pauses, then adds, “Tonight sounds … yeah. Good.” He hesitates then, his gaze dropping for a second before meeting yours again, earnest and a little vulnerable. “I ain’t exactly a pro at this whole datin’ thing. Just so ya know. Might mess it up.”

“You won’t mess it up.” You squeeze his hand. “We can just … be. Talk. Look at the stars. No pressure. The most important part is just being together, right?”

His eyes soften, the last vestiges of his tough-guy guard seeming to melt away in the quiet intimacy of his room. “Yeah,” he breathes. He lifts your joined hands, his gaze fixed on yours, and slowly, he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss there. “Tonight, then.”

“Tonight,” you echo, your heart swelling.

He holds your gaze for another long moment. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he lets go of your hand on his cheek, though he keeps your other hand firmly in his. “I should, uh … probably clean up a bit more. Before we … y’know.” He gestures vaguely at himself, looking a little self-conscious.

“Take your time,” you say, giving his hand a final squeeze before slowly withdrawing yours. You pick up your sketchbook, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. “I’ll wait out on the couch.”

“Won’t be long.”

You return to the communal area and find your perch on the couch again, giddy as you replay the last hour in your mind. Thinking of the feel of his hand in yours, the tenderness in his eyes, the brush of his lips. You open your sketchbook, flipping back to the portrait of Raph. It’s still unfinished. But in a way, that feels right. There’s more to him yet to draw, more to learn, more layers to peel back.

And tonight, under the stars, maybe you’ll start to uncover them.

[tinytennisskirt]

Push to Shove

virgin! art donaldson x stanford! reader- based on req here!

summary: tired of the imbalance of lust over love and general lack of real feelings in modern relationships, your best friend quite literally launches you into a meet-cute mess that turns into something unexpectedly real. he’s sweet, kind, quite obviously likes you, but there’s a catch. he’s a virgin.

warnings: lots of kissing, a good amount of fluff/relationship, meet-cute, rambunctious and loud best friend, smut! oral sex, mutual receiving but mostly reader, learning experience. heavy petting. grinding against the bed. inexperienced, nervous, virgin art ;) notes app fic, unedited.!

you’d always been the kind of girl who swore out of highschool, she would date and find someone and just settle and be done. love, real love. it was a comfort, it helped you focus on your grades and school, pushing you toward a scholarship at stanford. love was a good thought, something to look forward to.

you worked your ass off those four years and you got along by having crushes, maybe a date once or twice, but nothing good. mostly odd kisses with guys here and there, out in inconvenient places, the way teenaged boys make you do. it was never good, it was never right, never fun, and you never wanted them to touch you. in fact, if they tried, your reflexes often ended up whacking them in the head.

you grew out of that by grade twelve, thankfully, but no boy had ever even gotten close to touching you that way. you continued to throw yourself into your schoolwork. you tried not to think about how all guys wanted to do was touch you, praying that college men were different.

you got that scholarship, but decided to let it pend while you worked and interned for two years. those years were formative, making you into a woman no longer afraid of intimacy, still- nothing was ever good. guys out of high school weren’t any better at kissing or trying not to touch. nothing was ever satisfying. the only climaxes you’d experience were at your own hand or the bathtub faucet. it was admittedly, a little sad, but you were a charlotte, turning yourself into a hopeless romantic.

you’d journal before bed, then think heavily on the idea of someone loving you enough to touch you with the intent of making you feel good. you’d had sex (all the way) with two men, each only once- and still, you had no idea what to do other than lay still and wait for it to be over. there was shitty foreplay, asking for more from you, then jabbing you with two fingers way too high. not once had you felt any pleasure from it, though every blog said good sex is possible, enjoyable, even. that your boyfriends should be in tune with you.

in the end, you’d ended up sore on one lip, irritated and disheveled. almost like it was bruised from how little they paid attention to how you felt. you prayed there was hope, that there was more. broke up with both of them a few weeks after, worried there was a pattern.

“have you tried touching yourself during?” your friend bella asked, a little too loud for the campus book store.

you’d just finally gotten to the right place in life, finally enrolled in stanford. your best friend bella had done the same thing as you, so of course, she was there with you as your roommate.

you giggled, “a little quieter, bells?”

“sorry,” she giggled in response. “but like- it’s supposed to be good, but you said it just feels like… poking?”

“it’s so bad! i feel like it’s just a pole and the rooms always so cold or too hot and it’s just awkward. if i try to get off by his hand or mouth it’s just in the wrong place all the time. every time.”

“i can treat you right, babygirl,” bella teased, poking you in the ribs. “my god, $150 for a textbook with 200 pages?”

“bellaaaa,” you groaned. “can we do a spell or manifestation later so I can cleanse myself of this horrible… feeling and maybe have someone good, who likes me and wants me that way…”

bella smiled, “you’re one of the most gorgeous people i know, you’re bound to find someone, somewhere. all meet-cute.”her eyes flit around you both as you walk the aisles. “you deserve it, I know that, you know that, it’ll find you if it’s meant for you.”

“i don’t want to wait around, though.” You sighed. “I want to be loved, not just lusted after, so that when there is lust, I can love it.”

“write that down.”

“stoppp,” you laughed, exasperated. “I don’t want to wait, i need a push from the universe or something. a clear sign of which way to go forward. modern dating is so… evil. people sleep with everyone, there’s no commitment, people end up so temporary, i hate it.”

she groaned, “don’t even get me started on it again, you remember how long i went on last time.”

you nodded. “but i need a push.”

her eyes peered around the corner before you turned. her hands extended from her body and with a genuine, real push, she sent you off in one direction. it wasn’t hard or violent, just enough to make you lose your balance. you felt the impact of yourself against someone else and scrambled to collect yourself. “i’m so sorry-“

there was a chuckle. it was a guy. you looked up. he was cute. this was bad. “no, i’m sorry- was that my fault?” he asked, eyes meeting yours. his eyebrows knit together just slightly, concerned. you looked around, a little confused, but your eyes landed on what appeared to be a gym bag on the floor. he thought you’d tripped.

you laughed, completely embarrassed, “no, not at all. i actually just- my friend shoved me.”

“oh,” he nodded, a grin spreading up his face. it was gorgeous. he had perfect teeth, perfect features. perfect golden blonde curls. “was there a reason- or- does she just like to-“ he gestures vaguely.

“i think she likes to,” you nodded, pressing your lips together. “but no, i think she thought you were cute.”

“so she pushed… you?”

“she thought you were cute for me. she thought that i would find you cute.”

“okay,” he nodded, pressing his tongue to his cheek. it wasn’t cocky- with his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, it came off almost nervous. he was gorgeous, there was no way he could be nervous, not… talking to you. but he straightened it out, and then it was cocky. “do… you?”

you were almost taken aback by the ask. “do i what?” you stumbled.

“find me cute,” he finished. he seemed half-nervous.

you felt your ears start to warm, “i do.” you admit, smiling, but nervous. “it was nice to meet you.” you dismissed yourself, nodding and starting back.

“can i have your facebook?” he prompted, just before you turned the corner. you stopped, slowed, and looked back at him. “you do have facebook, right?”

“can i have yours?”

“do you want mine?” he smiled, rocking back and forth, hands in his pockets. it was so unusual to see someone so smug, yet shy. it was kind of endearing. and he was asking for your facebook.

“i do, yeah,” you walked back up to him, standing in front of him. you pulled out your notebook from your tote bag and gave him a pen. he chuckled to himself, leaning against the shelving to write it down. “thank you.”

“anytime.” he grinned. he had gorgeous dimples.

you looked at the paper, “see you around, donaldson64.”

“okay-“ he grinned wider, looking away. “art donaldson. i’m… art.”

you fought a smile, “like arthur?” you asked.

“to my mom, maybe.” he scrunched his nose.

“okay, arthur.” his ears were pink, you wondered if they’d been that way the whole time or if it was fresh. he rubbed the back of his neck again, grinning sheepishly. “i’m y/n.”

“nice to meet you,” and he was sweet.

“sorry about the whole shoving thing,” you repeated, tucking your notebook back in your bag. he handed you back your pen. “bye, arthur.” you smiled at him just once more, head tilted just slightly, trying to read him as you passed him, exiting the opposite end of the aisle that you’d come from.

you weren’t even five feet from him when bella near-tackled you, pulling you away, laughing so loud you were sure he heard. at least it proved to him that the shoving thing was real. she loved you, it was all in good fun, you’d do the same to her on a regular day. she gave you the grace of getting a good amount away from him before grabbing your hands. “that was amazing.” she giggled.

and you actualized the whole thing. “kinda was.” you smiled. “he’s nice.”

“i’ve never seen you talk to any guy like that before,” she praised. “his face, my god, he was so into you.”

“you could see?”

“would you have minded your business?”

“true,” you giggled in return. “we need to get back to the dorm.”

“so soon?”

“need to add him on facebook.”

the two of you only stopped for coffee on the way back. bella went on about his eyes, how he looked at you- she was the worlds nosiest best friend, but you loved her anyway. you went home and went through his facebook. and oh my god.

“why the fuck is his best friend so hot?” bella gawked. “i want to sit on his nose, y/n, can you get us a double date? i will literally pay for your half of our italy vacation if you can get me a date-“

“-bells, bells-“ you laughed, “stop, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. i haven’t even pressed add friend.”

“do it?”

you shook your head, “look at this picture of him and his mom. a birthday post and every word is sweet and kind and not even in the way where you wonder if he’s too close with her. and she’s so beautiful-“

“y/n, he’s perfect, press the button. message him.”

“one thing at a time,”

“sorry, i just really need his friend.” you both laughed. you scrolled down to the bottom of his facebook where there were some cheesy little posts with cheesy captions. pictures with his friends, his backyard, his childhood dog that passed away. he seemed genuine. “just say hi. he liked you, it won’t change a thing to start the conversation.”

she was right. so you did, you added him. and about twenty minutes later, your computer pinged that he had made you his facebook friend in return. and he messaged you first.

art: hey! got home and saw u added me, how are you?

you giggled out loud, jumping into the chair, bella getting up to stand behind you.

you typed back:

you: hi arthur :)

you: i’m goood, how are you?

he replied quickly,

art: i’m good :)

art: buy anything @ the book store?

bella leaned her head back and howled, “he’s yours, my god! wants to talk books. he’s yours! go get him.”

“how do we know it’s not performative?”

you: unfortunately not :( you??

art: textbook :( nothing fun

art: but it was nice to meet u

bella giggled like a creature. “mmmm.”

“shut up.”

you: nice to meet you too :)

“ask him out? jump on him? climb him?”

“bella!” you giggled, “- okay, what do i say?”

“let me,” she said, taking over the keyboard. she was basically an extension of you. no harm done, you watched her type it out.

art: do u have a boyfriend?

bella gasped, stopping, then aggressively backspacing, then typing,

you: no, you?

you giggled, “i was just about about to type that out!”

“i know,” she cackled, moving away from the keyboard. “it says he’s seen it.” you covered your eyes, then peeked again, your heart picking up just a little. god, he was cute, he was into you and you could actually read it, instead of having to dig or look for clues.

“so, the push…” she said, eyes knowing. “i chose well.”

“think so.”

art: that was good, lol

art: no boyfriend.

you: girlfriend

art: no. you?

you smiled. actually smiled. at the screen. and you couldn’t contain any of your excitement- your fingers flew,

you: are you free later?

no response. you and bella were holding your breath. she didn’t even have anything funny to say, caught in the same suspense as you.

art: i am :) what did you have in mind?

bella whooped, jumping around behind you. “my god! he’s perfect.”

“bella, we don’t know that much-“

“he’s perfect.”

your heart beat just a tiny bit faster, your chest pressing with anticipation. oh, but you had to think of a place-

and after carefully brainstorming five minutes, you asked him if he wanted to meet down by the pizza place near the old-fashioned theatre. he doubled down and asked if you wanted to go there. and it was a date.

“it’s so fast-“ you covered your mouth, looking at art’s last,

art: see you at eight !

bella just opened your dresser drawers, “it’s meet-cute. and bonus, we don’t have to spend tonight manifesting. i think we’re out of the pink candles either way.”

“we need a red candle anyway,” you chuckled, flopping back on your bed. “he’s so sweet, seeming, but he’s so… hot. guys like that are hit or miss.”

“you’re being so negative, what happened to your upbeat giggling?” she said, looking through the top drawer. “this is fun. all of it. i shoved you into him, don’t take it so seriously.”

“he seems so nice.”

she shrugged, “just ask all the important questions.”

“like?”

“how many inches,” she stuck out her tongue, teasing. you just shoved your head further into your pillow. “okay, sorry for being freaky, i know. but you know- what he likes, dislikes, ask him about family and maybe see how he talks about his mom. see if he has sisters. oh- and ask about his friend.”

you rolled your eyes, “you and his friend.”

“can’t hurt. but those questions and-“ she tossed you a pair of lacy black underwear, “- see if you still like him after that. goodnight kiss, more than that…”

“i don’t know about casual sex,” you sighed.

“that’s totally okay, but just keep in mind how disappointed you were committing to those other gross ‘poles’.” she said. “this way, if he turns out to be bad, you won’t have to worry about it down the road in terms of the mess.”

you thought it over. were you really at this point? you were a romantic, you wanted the good, soft things that came with romance, and wanted it decently dirty. enough for you. were you really looking to stoop this low? over sex? it was conflicting, wanting both. it kind of seemed impossible in this day and age. “if it goes that way then… yeah.” you nod, slowly. “then it depends on what kind of guy he is.”

“yeah,” she agreed. “if that’s what you’re okay with.”

“do you have an extra razor?”

“i just bought apple cinnamon aftershave.”

“i love you.”

several hours later, a forty minute shower included, hair dry and sitting in a way you were kind of proud of, you were outside the pizza place. you didn’t wear anything too crazy, kept it comfortable with a sweater and skirt, but that pretty underwear underneath for options. your heart was beating hard, the excitement settling in your fingertips.

it was 7:57 when he showed up, hands in his pockets, grin on his face. somehow you let it slip your mind just how gorgeous he was. it kind of hit you like a shock that he was here to see you. he stepped over to you, “hi. how are you?”

“i’m good,” you smiled. “how are you?”

“hungry,” he said, scrunching his nose a little. “so, are we eating here or did you want to walk around?”

and you and art got your pizza slices and walked around the campus streets, just talking. you pretended you hadn’t seen every photo on his facebook and he told you about tennis, what he’s in school for, his scholarship, his friends- but only after you asked him. everything else was being asked about you. he asked about your classes, how you like them, then asked about your hobbies. you told him them all and he had something to say about each one, making connections to his mom or something he heard or read in book or show about said hobby.

he was good at the back and forth stuff, so good, that you talked right through the first half of your movie before you realized.

“ooh, we are late to our movie,” you said, giggling, covering your smile. he grinned, dimples on display, then lowered his head, laughing. “we can try? see if they’ll let us in?”

“sure,” he agreed, looking back up at you. he breathed out, eyes settling on yours. and for a second you thought maybe he’d kiss you. and that’s when you realized that you actually, really wanted him to. but like he was nervous, his grin got a little crooked and his eyelashes fluttered, unable to hold your gaze. “you coming?”

you blinked away the tension and hopped into a step, following. the theatre let you in late, the theatre was pretty much empty anyway. art didn’t seem much like the type to talk during movies, but he kept coming up with ideas as to what the context of certain things were with half the movie unknown and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“do you think he looks like jeff buckley?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

“yes and no,” you replied. “it’s so weird to see him not being dan humphrey.”

“gossip girl,” he chuckled, his face falling into his palm, then wagging his pointer finger as he spoke downwards, “i was trying to figure out where i knew him from.”

you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, “you know gossip girl?”

he didn’t look at you, just rubbed his eye, “yeah,” he grinned sheepishly. “my mom and aunt love it, it’s all they talk about when she’s over.”

“wow,” you grinned, sort of overwhelmed by how perfect he was. there had to be some sort of catch, some sort of flaw. you just knew it had to be hidden somewhere in the obvious. “so are you like a serena guy or a blair guy?”

he shook his head, “blair, but only blair when she’s with dan. her best version so far.”

“you’re kidding,” you gasped, having the sudden urge to reach for his hand. instead you grabbed the arm rest. he grinned like it was all embarrassing. “i said that to bella-“ he knew who bella was now, “- and she acted like i was crazy. i love them as a couple.”

“yeah?”

your breath caught, “yeah.”

when the movie ended and the people cleared, it was late. almost midnight. the streets were dry, the air warm, but the breeze cool. it blew your hair around your face as you walked out the theatre doors. he held them for you. the rectangular bulbed sign buzzed above you, a dim, low yellow after the students living across the street complained about the brightness. it was nice. soft.

and his hands were in his pockets, and you were talking about ‘last goodbye’, versus ‘grace’, turning just around the edge of the theatre, right under that sign. you leaned against the wall. “they’re equal to me, different reasons.” you said. he matched you, leaning opposite. “last goodbye for bittersweet, grace for sad and… loud about it.”

“that’s exactly it, yeah,” he chuckled, looking up at you. and you couldn’t take it anymore. you looked back, meeting his eyes, and smiling. he ran a hand over his face, smiling down at his feet. “i-“ he started, then looked back up. “you’re really pretty.”

your heart jumped, “what, you just noticed now?”

“no,” he replied quickly, his smile growing more shy by the second.

“i’m kidding. thank you. so are you.” you said, stepping just a little closer. his back pressed against the wall, leaving you at his side, he then turned back like it was a bad move. you giggled, “are you okay?”

he chuckled, “noooo,” he admit, rocking back and forth on his heels a little. “i’m… short-circuiting a bit-“ he cleared his throat, sincere, “i really like you.”

your heart pounded and you could hear your blood in your ears, but you stepped closer, just by a little more. he didn’t step back. didn’t move anywhere else. you couldn’t hide how wide your smile was in return. “really?”

“i want to see you again- will i see you again?”

“i’d like tha-“

“can-“ you weren’t even finished with the sentence when he spoke over you for the first time the entire evening. he was an amazing listener- he was also very open, you knew the answer to every important question. you couldn’t finish what you were saying- “sorry- you were talking-“

“no it’s fine, what were you-“

“can i kiss you?”

you didn’t even say yes, you kissed him. arms around his neck, pulling him in, kissing him. and he kissed you back. no falter, no learning, no trying to match your pace, he just kissed you. and it was perfect.

he was good. it would be alarming if he wasn’t so pretty- you assumed he’d had his fair share of practice, but none of it mattered, he was kissing you back. two hands on your waist, sliding down to your hips, pulling you close.

his kiss wasn’t urgent or hot, it was somehow just easy, pleasant, and subtly addictive that sent you both spinning against the wall in that alleyway beside the cinema. the sensory was unlike anything you’d ever felt in any first kiss. it wasn’t too cold, too warm, he didn’t smell bad, didn’t taste bad either, it wasn’t too open or painfully private. it was kind of just… the best.

the push and pull of it was perfect, pressing against, swaying for moments off the wall, and then gently, slowly, mutually, you pulled away. and he grinned, wide, chuckling low.

you tucked your hair behind your ears, “i really like you too.”

“wow.” he breathed. “can i-“ he cupped your face and kissed you again. you felt the warmth of it spread over you again, like a bath drawn, bubbly. and you couldn’t help it, kissing him back, that the laughter escaped between your lips and his. but you kissed him. and he kissed you, and then he laughed.

“i’m sorry-“

“no, don’t be sorry,” you breathed, giggling still. “i’ve never been kissed like that ever in my life-“

“yeah?” his face lit up a little. he was a little too aware of his own tells. “no?”

“no,” you echoed. “i’m free thursday night? but now, if you wanted to come back to my dorm, my roommate is out-“ a test. maybe not.

he rubbed his eye again and chuckled a little, “i’m not-um - i don’t expect anything from you… like that.” and he chose his fate.

you were tinged by embarrassment, but he was so kind about it, it made it easy to swallow. “and that’s okay.” you nodded with a gentle smile. “will i see you thursday?”

“can i kiss you again?”

“thursday?”

“no, now,” he replied. and you nodded, so he stepped again, grabbed you gently by your jaw, and kissed you, just a few more times. a few more completely wonderful, floating-on-air, dizzying kisses.

and then he walked you back to your dorm, one hand in his pocket and the other bumping yours until you let it intertwine. only for three minutes, talking the whole way.

“goodnight, arthur.” you said, cheekily.

like he was awestruck, “goodnight.” and you only kissed him on the cheek then.

bella was told about the entire thing while she and you shared sliced up salami and goat cheese. she listened, wide-eyed, then howled, then gasped, then shrieked and got up and jumped and then shook you, and then stood on a stepping stool for you to re-enact how he kissed you the second time, because she just HAD to understand. you couldn’t stop thinking about him. you made sure to thank bella for the shove before you both drifted off.

you thought about it the whole next day, along with the thought about his fatal flaw. there had to be something. maybe it was that he’s actually really bad, like a serial killer or something and that’s why he’s so perfect, likes all the things you like and is such a good kisser… it’s insane. the places your mind goes to try and wrap your head around the fact maybe there’s someone right for you. it’s almost too good to be true.

you and bella wrote a list. it’s pretty bad. but soon enough, he’s at your door and you’re smiling like there isn’t a chalkboard with his name on it behind you. “hi.”

“hey.”

he was wearing a blue-green shirt, sleeves rolled up the elbow, and jeans. “do you want… to come down to the court with me?” he held up two rackets and a small bouquet of purple flowers.

you bite your lip, shaking your head. he’s so sweet. too sweet. “i am the worst you will probably ever see.”

“my pitch is that we get food first. your choice, i pay.”

“where did you come from?” you giggled. and then you spend the hours of 3pm to 12pm talking, laughing, going out to eat. it was nice, and you’d yet to kiss once this time. you didn’t want to admit you were thinking about it. wanting him to. you hoped he could read your mind.

it was midnight when you actually made it to the court. the lights were on overhead, illuminating the court, but leaving everything surrounding plunged in darkness and far off lights. it started easy, hitting the ball back and forth. but you were so bad he had to move you onto his side of the net to practice the basics.

“okay, i feel like this is your dealbreaker and i’m failing miserably,” you sighed, laughing. “do you like a girl who can play tennis?”

“yes, but the one i currently… like… isn’t the best i’ve ever seen. not the worst, either.”

“so, I’m not going pro?” you asked, stepping closer to him. you looked at him the way you did, always before he looked away, nervous and amused.

“not yet,” he nodded, tossing his racket down. “with practice, maybe?”

“oh, i need lessons,” you tsked, putting your racket down and leaning against the net pole. “you’re really good.”

“it’s like eighteen years of playing that’s gotten me where i am. not your fault. and you’re better than your first swing, so that’s… progress?” he smiled his lively, crooked grin. you looked over his face, features lit only by the big lights overhead. the overwhelming urge to kiss him came over you again. it was a little confusing, maybe, that you’d been hanging out for about nine hours and he hadn’t so much as tried to kiss you, but the other night it was so much… more. you wondered if maybe this was his flaw.

“i really want to kiss you,” he admitted, like he read your mind. one of his arms was folded over his chest, his other elbow resting against it, he was fidgeting with his lower lip. you couldn’t help that your face softened in a slight surprise and maybe gave away just how eager you’d been to kiss him. “can i kiss you?”

“in exchange for another tennis lesson, maybe?”

“sounds fair,” he nodded, stepping closer. his ears were pink, flushed the same as his upper cheeks. he was nervous still. gently, his hands found your waist, and then he closed the space between you. you giggled into it, quickly silenced by the way he pressed his lips to yours. it was sweet- no tongue, no anything. and he pushed just slightly against you, pulling you close, and with the net behind you, you both did a good little flip, right onto the other side.

you shrieked and giggled as you both toppled right over it. he lay on his back, winded, and you were tangled mostly in the little net by your shoe. you pulled it free and collapsed the rest of the way. he just started laughing, hand on his chest, laughing up into the midnight air.

and so did you, laying next to him, rolling over just a little, propping yourself up on your elbow. he grinned, turned his head to you just a little, and you kissed him. his hand immediately met the back of your head, cradling and gentle, but the kiss wasn’t anything like that at all. you really liked him, really, to the point where kissing him seemed like the only action your brain would let you do.

this kiss was different- more. maybe because you kissed him, hard- but he adapted to it like it was nothing, one hand in your hair, the other pulling you closer, the way it did every time he kissed you. his pace matched yours, and both hands came down to your hips when you crawled over him right there on the court.

his hands travelled your back, waist, then lower, over your ass. they didn’t stay there long, like he wanted you to know what was appreciated, but he didn’t grab or hold. you straddled his waist, he welcomed it, but cautiously, almost.

his hands pushed you gently against him, then he inhaled sharply, and the kiss stopped. “are you okay? did you land weird?”

“no, sorry-“ he said, huffing. “no, i want to kiss you, but i- um-“ he was pinker in the cheeks, his ears red. you moved off of him out of respect, lightly, keeping your smile on your face. you weren’t upset. “i’m so sorry- i don’t ever-“

“it’s really okay,” you nodded. he was shy in moments, witty in others, smart and well-rounded in others. “is it the court?”

he shook his head, “no- i actually- sorry. i don’t date casually, i don’t do things like this, casually, i don’t want to do too much.”

you nodded, understanding him all too well, but the protecting yourself from committing to bad sex part was throwing itself out the window. “we can just kiss, i’m okay with not doing anything if you don’t want to.”

“not even that i don’t want to,” he chuckled, then covered his face out of embarrassment. “i want to date you. i want to go out with you. not saying now, but- you’re really- i really like you and i mean it when i say that.”

“good, me too,” you smiled, leaning forward. his lips parted like you were going to kiss him, eyes darting between your lips and eyes. soft. like they were intimidating, but not in any sense that ever made him look weak. “i really like you too.”

he kissed you again and pulled you back over him, but his hands still didn’t grab or touch or anything too rough. you just made out until your phone buzzed with a call from bella, who was reasonably worried about why you weren’t home yet at 1:30am.

his lips were just a little puffy, you noticed, when he kissed you goodnight at your door. you pressed your fingertips to your lips before spinning inside, to bella who had of course, waited to hear every detail. the debrief took until 3:30am, before you both crashed.

you saw him again almost every day that week. you learned more about him, about his life, even came to watch him practice. he was good, really good when you weren’t his horrible opponent. and then afterward, he would climb the benches and come sit with you while he cooled down. -and he would joke about kissing you, but wouldn’t until he properly showered. you went back to the theatre and saw something else, went out twice for chinese, and every night would end up with that same perfect kissing. nothing more. nothing less. hands roaming your skin, never grabbing or even staying anywhere that mattered very long. you liked that he didn’t immediately want sex like the other ‘boyfriends’, it made it known that he liked your company, above all else.

but you’d technically made it official four days ago, three weeks into seeing each other and still, nothing changed. not that you expected it to, but so far he hadn’t so much as squeezed your chest. you’d asked if he was religious over dinner one day, and he said no, so maybe it was just a personal thing. part of you wondered if maybe this was his flaw?

“he’s gay.” bella said, patting her thighs. “come on, his mom and aunt watch gossip girl? we should have seen through that.”

“he’s not gay,” you huffed, trying not to laugh. “i just don’t know if it’s me! i want a good balance of both and the other guys were all sex, no fun, and i thought he was going to be a balance-“

“yeah- i mean look at him,”

“exactly. he’s so gorgeous, i just- i can’t ask about it yet. it’s confusing. i’m confusing myself with all of it.”

“okay. well he likes you. and he likes kissing you and he’s a good kisser.” she started. you nodded. “but won’t touch you harder than a hand on your skin.”

“you make it sound like i’m feigning,” you said, knees to your chest. “i’m not! but you know.”

“you want to be touched more when you’re kissed. want to feel desired, that’s not a bad thing. he can be a good kisser and still not be giving you what you like, it’s a matter of preference,” she assured you. “not even that you’re feigning, you just want. that’s not a crime.”

you nodded again, smiling a little. it made sense. you felt bad if this was art’s case, because he was genuinely so sweet, you didn’t want any of your desire to taint or pressure or ruin what you had. finding him had been unexpected and such an amazing whirlwind. “okay.”

your computer pinged, you looked over, then slid off the bed to go see. it was art.

art: can’t get u out of my head today

art: skipping practice, are you free?

you: all yours, where?

art: my dorm, brian is out :)

you: be over in 10!!!

art: see you soon :)))(

art: :)))))))))***

“how many times have you been over there?” bella asked, over your shoulder.

“twice,” you replied.

bella teased, “gonna make out? on the floor? or? wherever?”

“maybe. oh- hey-“ you got up and changed out of your pajama shirt, “his friend is coming into town in a week for his tournament game.”

her eyes went wide, “you’re fucking kidding.” she grabbed the bed. “is he single? what do we know? y/n!”

you laughed, going behind the divider to change. “single. and… i got him to accidentally show his friend your picture and he thinks you’re hot.” your hair was still wet from the shower you’d just finished.

bella gasped out loud, “you’re evil! my god! but- secured? you’re a genius, i love you.”

“not secured but he’s interested, so a leg up?”

“i could literally make out with you for art right now, boob-grabbing and everything, i love you!”

“shut up!” you laughed.

art opened the door like he was surprised to see you, but it was always followed by his smile. you held up a bag of chips. “i don’t even know if you like these, but bella got them thrown at her today at some chip-sponsored event.”

“a lot happens to her, hm?”

“she welcomes it,” you nod. he steps aside to let you in like it’s nothing, like you belong. “are you a fan of salt and vinegar?”

“i am,” he nodded, shutting the door behind him. you put the chips down on his desk, then sat on his bed.

“i missed you yesterday.”

“you do that a lot?” he asked, climbing onto his bed with you, kissing you just once before laying down.

“yeah, actually. should i see a doctor?”

“mmm, how’s it feeling now?”

“better,” you giggled. he turned your jaw, hand gentle tilting your chin up, and kissed you softly. you hated that your stomach flipped and burned with some sort of passion. “even better.” you said, mumbling into the next kiss. he cupped your jaw, climbing over you to kiss you. you’d barely gotten in the door.

he kissed you, slow and soft and wide and gentle, like each kiss was to ease your mouth open, then kiss it, repeat. and then his hand trailed from your jaw to your neck, then over your chest, down to your waist. the same as always. wonderful, perfect, your body flushing at his touch, still. you wondered if maybe you should bring the topic up, the one you and bella were discussing, maybe just to scope things out.

you maybe thought in gaps between kisses you could mutter something small, a question, but he kissed you and you kept forgetting. and his fingertips dug into your hips and you forgot almost entirely, because he was grabbing. you sighed a little heavier than you meant to and in return, he kissed you harder, deeper.

your hands came up to tangle in his curls as his hands trailed down your waist. you pulled away, just slightly, and met his eyes. he looked back, his smile showing through his eyes. he sighed deeply, chest rising and falling. you wanted him so…. badly.

you kissed him once more. small, sweet. and he kissed you harder than that. it was like he heard your prayers, his hand then finding the end of your sweater and dipping under. like you were the most fragile thing, his hand sprawled the bare of your lower back. it only lasted a second before he kissed you harder, holding you closer, tighter.

gently, his knee parted yours, sliding between them, then between your thighs. this was different. new. you let it happen, not sure if he was even aware of it- testing, trying to understand what he needs. and so you slid a hand over his waist, toward the waist of his jeans, testing…

a sharp inhale came on his part, enough for you to notice. you felt guilty, almost, for a moment. caught. “i’m sorry, too much?” it was unexpected from him.

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he replied, kissing you between words. “i should probably-“ he sat up a little, lips pleasantly puffy from the kissing. he kissed you once more. “okay.”

“i’m listening.” you told him. “did i do something?”

he looked at his hands, then at you, seemingly embarrassed. he took a deep inhale, didn’t delay it at all, and looked at you. “i’m a virgin.”

you didn’t mean to giggle, but he meant it and you knew that. “oh. oh.”

“yeah.” he nodded. “i just never… i mean… i don’t know how to explain it, it just never happened.”

“so you don’t- you haven’t-“

“i’ve been… touched before.” he admit. “just not ever… fully. and it’s probably worse i’ve never… touched…”

you felt your cheeks pink slightly. the catch.

granted, it wasn’t the worst catch in the world. it was just A catch. all of this perfect relationship chemistry was masking the fact that he, somehow… was a virgin. and apparently, had never touched a woman. “i keep wanting you, but i have to be so honest, i have no idea what i’m doing. you’re so- i really like you, i don’t want you to think i’m bad at this.”

your heart squeezed at his words, but he smiled at you the whole sentence, bashfully. it probably took a lot to admit that. you blinked a few times, surprised, but also learning. “thank you for being honest with me.” you grinned. “we just got together, though, so there’s no need to rush.”

“okay, well, there’s some need,” he said, half-joking. half not. “i don’t know, i know it all in theory but i’ve never actually… and when i say need, it’s not even about me, it’s more about… you.” he let his palm come up and hide half his face, his nose scrunching like a cringe. it was actually one of the hottest things he could say.

“i mean, you’ve been my boyfriend a few days, i think that’s fair,” you leaned forward a little. his hand met your waist and prompted you forward, so you went all the way to perch on his lap. your arms wrapped around his neck. “i think about it, if that’s fair?”

“i’ve been-“ he swallowed, looking up at you, throat dry. “yeah, me too.”

he seemed to melt under you already. his hands slid under your sweater, over your torso, “is this okay?”

“it’s all okay,” you nodded. “but- if you want to learn, maybe we can. we can try. you can try. if you’re comfortable.”

his eyes widened, “yeah, are you comfortable with it?”

“mhm,” you grinned, kissing him softly. he kissed back the same. you could feel how hard he was under you as you slowly pushed down against him. you wondered if he was sensitive like a virgin too, then blinked the thought away.

another question crossed your mind, then found its answer as art sighed, audibly, into your mouth. he did sound like a virgin. “we don’t have to go all the way.” you tell him. “not today. you just tell me what you want to try and we can. no judgement.”

“head,” he replied, a little anxious. “you, not me.”

“why not you?” you smiled. “it’s not all about me. it actually might-“ you shimmied down his lap, then down further until you were sitting on his knees. “-help you not be so nervous about messing it up. but you won’t. can’t.”

he looked down at you like you were about to kill him, but in a way where it kept soft, sweet in his gaze. “have you been with- um- a lot of guys? or?”

you shook your head, “only twice. none of the before stuff was really done both ways, so it’d be new for me too. you could figure out what you like and what i like.” you reasoned. you really liked him. this catch was one you could form into something else. plus, you’d be lying if you said the idea of being his first wasn’t hot. he looked at you like you were going to ruin him.

“i just want to do what you want me to,” he admit. he kept trapping himself in sentences more suggestive than he means them. he knows it. “if that makes sense. i think it turns me on more- if i think about the… giving part.” he struggled as you undid the top button on his jeans. “i…”

“this is okay?”

“yes,” he breathed before you finished asking. he squirmed a little, grabbing the headboard behind him once, before trying to settle comfortably above you, propped up by the pillows. already. wow. “you don’t have to, i didn’t-“

“i want to,”

“okay.” he looked at you, accepting. and he raised his hips when you finished pulling down his zipper in a way that was so pathetic you kind of wished bella was there to see it. you’d have to show her later. he helped you push them down. his boxers were the loose kind, the flannel type, but immediately tented without the jeans to keep it down.

“jesus,” he sighed, covering his eyes when it genuinely sprung up. you giggled, but took a second to see just how tall it stood. he was a virgin… you would be the first girl to ever feel all of that- he was pretty average, but on the long side, compared to what you’d seen before. “i’m sorry.”

“no, it’s kind of impressive,” you giggled, your handily gently wrapping around it. he braced again, eyes closing, pillow next to him crinkled in his closed fist. “you’ll tell me if you don’t like something? don’t want something?”

“mhm,” he nodded. “this is-“

he was sensitive. you were barely touching him. you reached up a little, fingers rimming his boxers. you wanted him. wanted to hear that noise he made before.

you slowly pulled and he allowed, raising his hips again, and it was on display for you now, bare and kind of perfect, aesthetically. flesh, light, and pink around the tip. he was so so pretty. you couldn’t help but kiss the tip, just gently. to test the waters.

you felt his muscles contract, felt his eyes on you. he looked fearful, but the way a deer entranced by headlights does. he nodded, just slightly, maybe even subconsciously, so you gently kissed again, your hand curling around the base. you could feel him shift, grasp, and a small sound left his lips, a whimper or maybe something closer to a whistle between his teeth, accidental. slowly, you parted your lips and allowed the slick tip of his dick to glaze over your tongue as you wrapped your mouth around him.

you heard him exhale hard, gasp, and moan quietly all in sequence. “fuck- fuck-“ he whispered, hips bucking just slightly. “i’m sorry-“

you giggled, hummed, and he moaned again, a little louder. it was so pretty. you commit the sound to memory, rising and sinking and humming. you weren’t the best at this, so it was nice to know he was enjoying it. “you’re so- good at this- i-“

you didn’t stop, head bobbing gently. he was smooth, slippery, perfect. he leaked out the head, streaking your tongue as you went. “i can’t- you need to stop-“ he choked out. “i’m sorry, i can’t-“

it was an easy ask, you popped off of him, wiping your lower lip with your thumb. he looked at you, awestruck, like you were a goddess, his chest rising and falling heavily. “are you okay?”

“i didn’t want to come in your mouth-“ he admit. “not for the first time.” you couldn’t help but grin. sweetheart. “can i- can i try you? i’d like to. i’d like you to teach me. i don’t want to be the first-“

“you need to relax,” you smiled, kissing him. he melted. your hand reached back down to work him. he moaned into your mouth, not expecting your hand to return. “focus on me.”

he kissed your mouth, messily. your jaw, your neck, your ear. “you’re so beautiful.” he mumbled. “i’m close- you have to stop.”

you stopped. he was breathing hard. he covered his face, then pulled his boxers back over his throbbing dick, leaking wildly and still wet from your mouth. he shut his eyes, then breathed out through his nose. “my god, i’ve never-“ he grinned, you couldn’t help but grin with him. “i seem really pathetic, hm?”

“i kind of like it,” you shrugged. “feels like you like me.”

“i do like you,” he chuckled, nose pink and blushed. “i almost- god, i can’t even speak, i’m sorry. you’re good at all of-“ he broke, his blush taking over the tops of his cheeks again. “will you let me try? today? i want you to show me, i don’t know how else to ask.” his desperation slipped through. it occurred to you that all of his lack of touch might have just been restraint, while he worked up the courage and relationship enough to tell you about the whole virgin thing.

it was clear now, that all of it, his pent up attraction, was spilling out. leaking through his boxers, actually. you had never seen or even heard of someone being this physically attracted to another person and it was exhilarating to have it happen in front of your eyes. “you really want to?”

he nodded slowly, surely. “if it’s not too fast… or forward. but i rented gremlins from the dvd store, say the word and we can put that on, it’s already in the… thing.” he gestured vaguely. so flustered. “i’m sorry, you drive me crazy, and i am so hard.”

you giggled and kissed him without any lust in the mix. just a kiss to level him out. “you’re driving me crazy, what do you mean?” you laughed. it seemed to ground him a little. “you’re so pretty and im the first, so i’m a little nervous.”

his eyes softened, “no, there’s no reason to be. i’m hard thinking about it.”

you swallowed, kissing him again. “what if it’s not what you expect?”

“i don’t care, i just want to make you-“ he got ahead of himself. it was sweet, how he caught his own words in the making, and how they make him shy. “feel. good.”

“i want that too,” you nod, smirking. you kiss him once to be sweet, twice to reassure him, and a third time, your hands cupping his jaw again. he kisses you back like he’s been starved. he moans untouched, into it. you smile as you move, him pushing up onto his knees to kiss you, tilting your head back as he then turned and pushed you back against the bed.

“what can i do?” he whispered.

your hands tangled in his hair, gently directing his head toward your neck before pulling your sweater up over your head. the black, lacy lingerie you kept in your top drawer was always on when you saw art. waiting for this, maybe. he caught a glimpse and you watched him try to hide his grin in his hands.

“i think you should start- kissing me here.” you gestured to your chest. his eyes glanced down, though he willed them up at your face. “art, i’m yours.” you watched his eyes follow your breath in and out. “i’m not judging you.”

“i’m not judging you,” he breathed. “i-“ you kissed him. he kissed you back, tongue slipping over your lower lip. his hands travelled your body, your waist, hips, stomach, chest. his hand smoothed over the gentle black lace, slower than anything, as if trying understand how this was real and now his to touch. his hand gently pressed against the plush of it, squeezing softly. and then again, a little more firm, and then he kissed you harder.

you sighed, letting his mouth trail your neck, your collarbone. he was a good kisser, you knew that, you could imagine it. his hand cupped your left tit as he kissed down in between. his thumb gently swiped the top, sensation making it through the fabric. it was like fire lit between your legs, hot and vibrant. dizzying. it was unlike anything you’d ever felt in this way before. hot and wanted and he’d barely done a thing.

“is this okay?” he asked, mouth still against your skin. you looked down at him kissing and nipping his way over your chest. his fingers dipped under the fabric and pulled moved it down just a little. you hummed out a yes that he understood. and his lips moved over your nipple, hard and pointed against his breath. he kissed it like he’d kiss you. your chest pushed against his mouth and he welcomed it, kissing and nipping and sucking.

“you’re good at-“ you giggled, “that. this.”

“really?” he lifted his head. you kissed his nose. you nodded, he went back to it, switching tits, tucking the other one away nicely. you swore he’d have stayed there if you didn’t gently urge him.

“lower?” and he’d been waiting for the cue, kissing your chest again, the in-between, and then the place just under the wire of the bra. soft lips, lower, over your stomach. eager, the lower part, near your waistband.

“is this okay?” he asked again.

“yes.”

“i’m nervous,” he admit, resting his forehead against your stomach. you sighed heavily, running a hand through his curls. “if i’m really bad? shouldn’t i start with my hand?”

you cupped his face, “i am so… i promise you, i wont judge you. i’ve never been… nobody has ever done this for me, so we figure it out together.”

“okay,” he nodded. and he pulled gently at your shorts. “you tell me what you like?”

“i promise.”

your shorts made it off, and it took him a second to recalibrate after seeing you in the lacy black underwear. you giggled, tugging his curls just a little. your skin was aflame, burning, aching. you weren’t sure if he could see just how soaked you were through the black material, but you were more than aware.

he sighed, lowering himself properly. he planted a kiss to the inside of your thigh, to let you know where he was, and it made your skin crawl with goosebumps. it wasn’t too cold, not too warm, the air was thick with trust and an almost overwhelming mutual need. slowly, his fingers hooked the sides of your underwear and slowly slid them down your thighs. you lifted your legs to let him slide them down and off. your hands came up to hide, maybe just momentarily.

he was blushing again, rubbing his eye for a moment to hide it. you’d never wanted anything to happen so badly. “you tell me what to do and i’ll do it.” he said. “i want to make you feel good, i want to see if i can get you to-“ he stopped himself, chuckling nervously.

“please,” you sighed. welcoming, slightly nervous and desperate, closer to how he was feeling. the lights had been lowered, he could only really see your silhouette, edged gently with a pink-ish sort of light. your hands in his hair gently pulled him in. he let your legs part, gently going forward until he came to kiss right where it mattered.

it was soft. gentle pressure, momentary, warm. you shivered, hips gently pressing up against his mouth. he moaned, fully, and like desperate, his arms hooked your thighs, holding you in place. it made your head spin. you liked his hands, often stared at them, you never imagined this sort of action.

“you can-“ you breathed, “use your tongue or your lips, try to stay as close to the centre as-“

his tongue, hot, powerful, pressed heavy against you. a push, then a press, flat, and upward. his tongue barely brushed the clit at the top. you squirmed slightly. “oh my god, art-“

“is it okay?” he raised his head slightly.

you let out a breath, “yes, wow- i didn’t know it would feel like this, it’s warm…”

“oh, yeah?” his head went back, his grip tightened again. his tongue pressed again, lower, higher, higher, not high enough.

“mm- when you do that, can you move a little higher?”

“i’m sorry,” he muffled.

your fingers tightened, “no don’t be sor-“ he did exactly what you asked, perfectly, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through your nerves and body. “that’s- you have it.”

“that’s good?” he did it again. and then he moaned when you did. his tongue learned the pattern, where exactly your clit was. and then he was trying something new. it was a kiss at first, then a gentle suck. your muscles coiled. he was good, very good, too good. even alone, that kind of pleasure didn’t come until at least ten minutes in. he seemed to understand and learn quickly. “this is so-“

“don’t stop,” you breathed. it fuelled him, he groaned, warm, into you. you moaned, tugging him closer, pressing into you. his tongue discovered that pushing into you, where you were wettest, let him feel just how your muscles move around him. he rolled his hips gently against the bed. “don’t- s-stop.”

“fuck, you taste so good,” he said. “this is better than-“ his grip on your thighs tugged you closer against his face. he was about as close as a person could be, mouth moving messily, yet calculated, tongue dragging, flicking, wrapping. you were going to come. could you say that? did he want that? he moaned again.

“art- oh my god, oh my god-“

he couldn’t control how hard his hips pressed against the bed, grinding, trying to relieve something. you sighed, your head falling back, hands still tight in his curls. he pushed your legs up further, mouth everywhere, nose nudging and sometimes dipping. you covered your mouth, your eyes rolling back. how was he this good? it was intoxicating. your body was winding and he was addicted to coaxing out every symptom.

he was honed in on the taste of you. how your muscles contracted. the gentle gush that he kept having to lap up, how it slowly increased as he worked with his mouth. there wasn’t anything in the world that had ever compared to this. he wouldn’t stop, he didn’t want to. “still good?” he hummed.

“art, i’m so close, im so, so close, please keep going,” you pleaded, chest rising and falling fast and hard. he didn’t stop, he strengthened this tongue out, pushing, sucking, licking. “is it okay?”

“fuck- mhm- yes,” he nodded, swirling his tongue around your clit. your fingertips burned with the sensation. pending, climbing. it threatened to crash down on you, wipe you out. “please.” it came out broken, too focused on you to speak properly. he couldn’t believe this was real- he was grateful, counting his blessings as you contracted around his tongue again. only his mouth, god, it was only his mouth.

just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, it broke. all of it. you felt yourself flood at the release, felt how art rushed to lick up as much as he could, somehow in tune to how sensitive you were becoming as the feeling rushed through your veins. it was crashing, wild.

“oh my god, i-“ you sighed into a moan, final. “you’re amazing.”

he laughed, coming up from you, reaching for a nearby towel to wipe his face on. “yeah?” he didn’t even try to hide his blissed out delight. he handed you the towel. he didn’t even use his hands or any other tool. and he seemed proud. your chest rose and fell hard, your legs gently shook. how did he? you were in a form of shock, maybe, at just how good it all felt, as how easily he undid you.

“that was so good,” you told him. you cleaned up, then huffed again, disbelieving. talent? he was talented. no other word. he laid down beside you, pull the sheets over your lower half for your comfort, letting you collect yourself. “did you like it?”

“fuck, don’t even talk about it,” art groaned , eyes shut. somehow, he stayed bashful. attracted. “i can’t- it was so much more than i imagined- it was good?”

“so good,” you sighed, letting him move over you, kiss you. “mm- i’ve never had anyone make me come.”

“not even when you-“

“no.”

“wow. firsts, then.” he said, kissing your cheek, then ear. “and you’re my girlfriend now, hm?”

“seems so,” you smiled, kissing him on the corner of his mouth. he chased it, kissing you properly, then your nose, cheek, other cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone, lips again.

“does that mean i can try again?”

“now?” you paused.

“i’d like to try using my hand,” he whispered, hand finding your hip, squeezing the flesh of your upper thigh gently. “if you let me.” he kissed your shoulder.

“please,” you sighed, giggling. you kissed him in a way that was nearly an attack. he laughed loudly, cradling you into the kiss. “if you’re suspiciously good at this too, we might have to re-evaluate.” you teased.

“what if i am?”

“i’m praying you’re average or bad.”

“that makes me feel so much better,” he sighed, holding you, grabbing you, keeping you close, but still somehow being gentle in every way that mattered.

“just kiss me, arthur,” you giggled.

it all evened out. he liked you, wanted you in more ways than just the one or the other. satisfied the craving for intimacy in the way you needed it fulfilled. it wasn’t unwanted, not gross, you weren’t waiting for him to stop touching your left lip- you had your head tipped back and felt all of it. you mentally thanked bella, and made a mental list of everything you had to tell her when you saw her.

art was mediocre with his hands, and halfway through gave up and dove right back where he knew he had the talent. your hands curled back into his hair, your thighs shook, and best of all, he was still learning. he came, grinding against the mattress, at the same time your orgasm crashed down on you. shaking and perfectly timed, you got cleaned up and just as you were falling asleep- he wrapped his arms around you, kissed the crook of your neck, and whispered. “i wonder if bella knows i’m indebted.”

“for the book store shove?”

he chuckled, low. “you read minds now?”

“i’ll read it again.”

“go ahead.”

“gremlins.”

“you freak me out.” he joked. “- and ordering pizza.” you passed him his phone off of the windowsill, grinning.

to be continued…

requests open <3

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@y08h @theynothem @animalcrossingshameless @vinecstasy @reallycreativeusername @romnticist @lalalandofive @colorful-teaparty @senseofnewness @swetearss @ladystardust-thinks

[makeitworse]

THE LOVER⠀⠀⠀ ( 𝓸ne. )

a quiet café. a distant home. and the boy who made you feel seen for the first time in a long time.

𝓬ontains: f!reader x felix. 5k wc. infidelity. arranged engagement. mutual pining. fluff. angst. light smut. 18+

𝓷otes: lady chatterley’s lover had me very inspired, let’s just say i got carried away. this AU has a life of its own and might be one of my favourite works yet. i hope you all love it enough for more ♡

SERIES ❀ CONT.

𝓣HE CAFÉ WAS FINALLY quiet enough for you to spare a thought to yourself.

after what felt like hours of clattering mugs, half-shouted orders, and the dull murmur of students too tired to make real conversation, peace was once again yours. odette’s always had a nine to eleven rush. by now, you can predict these peaks down to the minute.

you hum to yourself as you wipe down the counter, hands returning to their rhythm that no longer needed thought.

wipe. stir. pour. press. wipe again. welcome that customer. don’t forget to smile. breathe. breathe.

you had to remind yourself to breathe a lot these days.

the place was affectionately named after the lake it overlooked— a cozy corner tucked away on the edge of campus, just past the east courtyard. on your morning walks over you’ve started to take note of the flowers blooming in soft pastels for spring. new beginnings, which seems to have skipped you.

out past the window, odette’s namesake glittered in the morning light, bustling with swans drifting across the water. you smile when you recognise your little lady.

you watch for her every day, sparing moments throughout your shift to check on her— this snowy beauty gliding along the lake, untouched by the chaos of the campus around her.

potential mates came and went: puffing their chests and spreading their wings, showing off for your lady who never gave them the time of day. she was always alone.

swan mate for life, you know. and she had yet to choose anyone. that simple fact resonates with you. you could only dream of feeling her freedom, if just for a moment, as you watch her from behind the glass pane.

the machines behind the counter sigh alongside you as they let out a low, exhausted hum. your supervisor’s out on a smoke break, so you allow yourself a moment to just space out as you mindlessly wipe surfaces; catch up on all the breathing you’d forgotten to do during the morning rush.

you suppose you can’t really complain. the job’s not terrible, and it kept you moving, socialising. occupied.

your father had arranged it— a quiet favour through a colleague at the university. a polite way of ensuring his daughter wasn’t just wasting away in the house all day alone.

it’s all you felt anywhere though.

you don’t have many friends. you’re weren’t a student, not a peer to anyone passing by. anyone your age was flitting in and out of classes, tethered to friend groups and schedules you didn’t belong to. you weren’t one of them.

the smell of espresso’s warm in the air. you move mechanically, able to make coffees with your eyes closed at this point, but there’s extra care in your fingers for one particular step: pouring the milk to make little works of art in a cup.

it’s silly. most people don’t even notice. but it’s your simple pleasure throughout the workday. that and your swan outside are the only things keeping you sane.

you take pride in each cup of coffee, even if the art only lasts a second before vanishing into someone’s first sip. swirls, hearts, vines and flowers. even yesterday, you felt confident enough to pour a swan.

you’re no pro at it. some of them are more abstract art than anything, in which case you’re glad customers don’t give it a second glance. but each little painting in a cup gives you something to hold onto. any customer you serve gets that extra attention and care. and that belongs to you— whether they pay it any mind or not.

it’s enough, to feel a sense of control. to remind yourself what the liberty of choice feels like.

the door chimes, snapping you out of your self-wallowing and robotic cleaning.

you’re a little startled as you turn to face the customer, sure that everyone would be in class by now.

you clear your throat and greet him, fingers nervously playing with your ring.

“hey— gosh, i’m so behind,” he checks his phone quickly, then raises his head. “sorry, i—”

he cuts himself off with a laugh. he sounds breathless— and god was his voice deep. you can’t help yourself to giggling with him, a little flustered.

he looks like he’s just as out of it as you are. blonde hair frazzled, face flushed pink. maybe he ran here.

“it’s been a morning.” he exhales, running a hand through his hair. you nod along, relating.

“what can i do for you?” you smile.

“actually, i was here yesterday. you made me a coffee. i sat over there,” he pointed to a booth in the corner. you try to think back, disappointed in yourself for not remembering him. “i took a photo of it.”

he taps his phone a bit before turning it to show you— a picture of the swan mug. you gasp, face splitting in a smile. he chuckles at your reaction.

“i was proud of that one!” you beam. he’s just made your day.

“it was really lovely. i wanted to get another today, but i’m running late.” he sighs. you smile, his compliment fluttering in your stomach. “could i just get the exact same one but to-go?”

you nod, swallowing thickly as you type his order on the tablet. you almost feel a little weak in the knees from talking to him— he’s so good looking. even pretty. and he’s gushing over that simple coffee you made him like it saved him from dying of thirst.

you glance up at him briefly, careful not to stutter as you lock eyes. “did you want a swan again?”

“actually,” he leans in, slightly bending over the counter, just to get closer to you. your lip twitches. “could you.. surprise me?”

words beyond you, you just nod your head with the giddiest smile. this guy’s full of delightful surprises.

as you get to making his coffee, he trails your steps from behind the counter. he stands as close as he can, chatting to you while you work.

he confessed that he was acting too shy yesterday— he had his head down as you placed the mug on his table, and you realise that’s why you don’t remember his face. you share a laugh about it.

you also learn it’s his sister’s fault that he’s late for class today, and that he’s studying for a bachelor’s in music.

before he can reveal any more about himself, you’re handing him his cup of coffee, the lid seperate.

as late as he is, he takes a moment to admire your work before taking a sip— a flower surrounded by leaves. with a quick thanks, he’s drinking from his cup and darting for the door.

you giggle to yourself as you watch him run across the grass, careful to cover his coffee so it doesn’t spill.

your supervisor walks in from the backdoor, a brow arched as she looks at you.

“do you know him?” she asks. she must’ve heard all the chatter, when you’re usually curt with customers.

you shake your head— and it dawns on you that you never even got his name.

⠀

⠀

such a fleeting moment had managed to make your whole damn week. it’s the first time you’ve ever actually connected with someone at work— not just robotically served. you can only hope he’ll come back, because he’s given you a newfound pride in your little arts.

the weekend follows after the day of, which you spend your quiet saturday at home practising with your coffee machine. it was a gift, which felt like more of a mockery, really. (who wants to bother making a coffee when it’s all you do everyday?)

today though, you’re using it as a pastime.

swapping out all the caffeine, you instead make yourself numerous mugs of hot chocolate as you practise the milk pouring. you experiment with different shapes, follow along with videos. you can’t stop smiling to yourself. you just wonder how he’d react, the blonde stranger.

that train of thought halts as you hear the door unlock; followed by shuffling as it shuts, and then eventually the sound of shoes coming down the hall.

“oh, you’re finally using it.” he calls as he enters the kitchen, tone bordering on mocking. you just stay quiet. he walks up to you, inspecting your work. “what’s all this?”

“i’m practising.” you reply. he chuckles, without humour.

it’s a callback to when he first bought it for you: justifying the purchase of a ridiculously expensive coffee machine just so you could ‘practise’ for your new job. it wasn’t gifted out of thoughtfulness, rather a bitter jab at the fact you even wanted to work. he knew it’s just an excuse to get out of the house— which he took personally. as if he’s ever home to feel your absence anyway.

“since you’re here, would you make me one?” he goes to kiss your temple. you turn away, acting like it’s to get him a cup, but you both know it was really to dodge him.

he lingers, watching as you reach into the cupboard for his coffee mug. he takes a step closer. when you set it down on the counter, he’s grabbing your wrist. you cuss as he tugs your arm, holding your hand up as his eyes flick to it, gaze hard.

“where’s your ring?” he asks lowly.

you fingers twitch on his palm. “i didn’t want to get it dirty.”

he’s still for a beat, before he releases your hand with a nod, walking off to the bathroom.

whether it’s a lie or not, he doesn’t care to ask.

you don’t care to ask either, how he wants his coffee.

you pour it black, leaving it on the counter for him to grab as you walk off— wordlessly shutting yourself in your room.

⠀

⠀

monday finds you at odette’s earlier than usual.

the sky’s still tinted with dawn when you arrive, a soft copper bleeding into clouds the shade of bruises. there’s a rare calm in the air, a peace that belongs only to you, just before the rest of the world wakes.

most days, you show up to work already spent, worn thin by cold shoulders and frostbitten glares at home. but this morning, it’s too early, and the day hasn’t yet gathered the strength to be cruel.

your coworker emmie greets you, raising a brow in pleasant surprise at the sudden pep in your step. a stark contrast to the lifeless girl who’d quietly trudge in for her shifts, two seconds from crying over the next minor inconvenience.

“you finally woke up on the right side of the bed,” she teases, nudging a tray of clean mugs toward you.

you hum, biting back the smile threatening to split across your face. you’d spent most of the weekend thinking about him— the freckled stranger with a voice like a cello’s low string, long fingers wrapped around the paper cup like he was beholding something precious. you’d imagined, just once or perhaps twice, what it might feel like to be held the same way.

not by him, necessarily. just generally. you tell yourself as much anyways.

it’s twenty minutes before the doors even open when there’s a soft knock on the glass.

you jump, but you’re recollecting yourself in the same second, already moving toward the sound— already hoping. and then you see him.

the pretty blonde again.

he’s standing there like he walked straight off the cover of a magazine; hair tousled from the wind, warm smile pulling at his lips. the morning glows gently on the edges of his face, freckles prominent in the sunlight.

you’re stood there smiling at each other in silence as emmie pokes her head around the corner. you can feel the confused look she’s giving you.

“okay, there’s no way our coffee’s that good.”

“i can tell him to wait.” you offer way too quickly, already halfway to the door.

she shakes her head, waving you off. “just go say hi to your boyfriend before we open.”

you don’t bother correcting her. the word sits sweet in the air, even if it isn’t true. instead, you toss your hand-towel aside and push through the door.

outside, spring air kisses your skin. the smell of jasmine dances in the breeze, the lake glittering under the sunlight just beyond the path. your pretty stranger blends right in to the season.

“you again.” you say, trying to sound teasing, but it comes out soft. almost like relief.

he smiles, bright and lopsided. “me again.”

a beat. you realise you still don’t have a name to his face, but as your mouth opens to speak, he beats you to it:

“sorry, i realised,” he mutters, tousling his golden curls, “i never asked your name.”

when you tell him, he repeats it on his tongue like he’s tasting it. grinning like he’d been waiting to. maybe he has.

“i’m felix.” he adds.

you repeat it in your head a few times to make sure it sticks. felix. meaning lucky, happy. it suits him.

“otherwise, you could just call me your most loyal customer.”

you laugh, scoffing, “you haven’t earned that yet.”

“no?” he exclaims. “guess i’ll just have to keep coming back.”

you can’t help how you smile, tilting your head in awe. “my coworker said our coffee can’t be that good.”

“well, let her know she’s wrong.” felix leans in with his voice low, gaze heavy. it’s like his eyes are saying something his mouth didn’t.

steering from wherever this is headed, you quip; “don’t think i can’t tell you’re just trying to earn a discount.”

he bites his lip, chuckling with that husky tone that makes your chest ache. it’s too warm. too easy.

felix glances down, and you swear you feel the air change. his eyes drop from your face— and for the briefest second, you worry they flicked to your left hand, noticing the ring. you brace yourself, but he doesn’t say anything. so neither do you.

you needed that humble reminder.

you don’t flirt. you haven’t thought to in a long time. you forgot what it felt like to be noticed— wanted— without any strings or expectations. and here’s felix, looking at you like you’re the only thing worth being up this early for. you really should pull away. cut this off. remember whose name you carry around on your finger.

but instead, you say, “well if you’re trying to earn the title, we open in fifteen.”

he flashes a boyish smile, sincere. “guess i’m taking a walk. let you miss me a little,”

you roll your eyes in mock annoyance— where you should’ve disagreed. but you’re sick of doing anything but what you want to.

felix can be your freedom. a choice that belongs to you, only you, and no one can control that or take it away.

“also, about what your coworker said—” felix pipes, walking backwards on the pavement. “it’s not just the coffee.”

for a beat, he holds your gaze, face full with an unmistakably flirty smile as he watches you realise what he meant.

but when your eyes widen in shock, mouth opening to react— he’s facing away, already too far down the path to hear.

you’re not sure what it is exactly that glows in your chest at his words, but it sits there long after you walk back in, emmie glancing at you strangely each time she catches you smiling for no reason.

maybe it’s just the relief of finally having found good company. you’ve wished upon a star for somebody, anybody, to call a friend. somebody who can remind you that you’re not completely isolated from the rest of the world. a person who makes the hours feel like yours again.

felix might just be your way out— even if it’s only for a few minutes each morning, a temporary distraction before you face your reality once you clock out of work. but it can be enough.

when the doors finally open, he returns like he never left. emmie gives you a nod as she disappears around the corner, as if to say he’s all yours.

felix doesn’t even have to tell you what he wants— you know his coffee order better than he does now.

he perches on a stool by the counter, munching on a toasted croissant as you make his coffee. he’s close enough to steal glances and trade smiles with you, but not get you in trouble for slacking.

with practised hands, you pour the milk into his cup in the shape of a tulip. emmie passes by, peering over your shoulder. she teases you for drawing ‘hearts’ in your boyfriend’s coffee.

you’re caught too off-guard to correct her, and on instinct, you’re glancing up— and you know felix heard but the way his smile deepens, eyes crinkling.

you hand him his paper takeaway cup, felix uttering a deep ‘thanks’ as he reaches for it— fingertips brushing yours. your stomach flutters at the contact. you don’t mention it. neither does he.

you should get back to work before the morning rush, but you linger instead. hold his gaze as he pops off the lid, inspecting your work, delighted.

“a tulip for spring?” his teeth flashes as he smiles, which slides into a smirk. “or hearts, for me?”

your face drops as you let out a groan. felix chuckles, taking it back.

to make it up, he has his first sip, humming contently.

“i could lie and say i just want a discount,” felix says, “but i’m hoping you’ll take the compliment.”

you blink, hesitant. the safe thing would be to smile politely, send him on his way. reaffirm that he’s just some student you make coffee.

but of course, you ignore that thought.

“when’s class?” you ask instead.

“just this morning. i’m free after that.” he glances up at you, and you’d almost think he looked nervous. “was hoping maybe, you’d tell me what time you knock off?”

a pause. you should probably tell him.

you should say that someone else waits for you at home. that your evenings aren’t really your own. that your life is not what it looks like.

but he’s standing there, eyes full of sunlight, voice gentle with hope.

so probably— probably not.

“not any time soon.”

“i’m patient.” he’s quick to reply.

the first round of customers filter in through the door, students bustling with chatter. in the same breath you’re telling him when the café shuts and excusing yourself, but felix softly calls after you.

wordlessly, he hands you a folded napkin, slipping out of his seat and uttering a goodbye before you can say more.

you slip the napkin into your back pocket, dashing behind the counter to serve the line of people waiting to order.

you slide back into routine— wipe, stir, pour, smile— and when you’ve got a second to breathe, you glance over at the window to catch sight of your snowy beauty.

a second turns to a minute as you stand there in disbelief. out there by the lake is felix: tossing bread crumbs into the water, surrounded by the chattering birds.

there’s one gliding close by, and you watch felix’s mouth move with words, greeting the swan with a smile. your swan.

you duck behind a wall, out of sight of your supervisor, and take out the napkin from your pocket.

you unfold it, sighing as you read what felix left for you, written in pen.

eight digits.

⠀

⠀

felix was waiting for you.

he’s perched on the short stone wall outside the café, scrolling on his phone as his legs swing slightly. the sun’s dipped low, dragging an aureate light across the sky that leaves golden tinsels in felix’s hair.

he looks up as you step outside, and that smile— sweet and crooked— greets you instantly.

you had offered to close up shop today. insisted, really. your supervisor hadn’t opposed as she left work early— leaving you alone for when you meet back up with felix.

you give one last glance around before you lock the front door. there’s no one loitering, no familiar faces passing by in the distance. you wouldn’t doubt it— there being people asked to watch over you. better to be careful.

better to pretend, momentarily, that it’s not a lie to stand here with felix.

“you waited here?” you scoff softly, joining him.

“of course i did.” he hops down, walking in stride with you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you smile, shying away as you glance to the side. “i saw you earlier. by the lake.”

his lip twitches. “ah yeah, feeding the swans.”

“thought you’d win her over today,” you remark, nodding toward the lake’s far side where your snowy lady likes to linger. “she’s a picky girl.”

“nah, she’s just playing hard to get.” his eyes flick toward the water, watching the gentle ripples beneath the afternoon’s glow. “or maybe she knows what she wants, and is just, waiting for the right one.”

the words sit heavier than they should.

were we still talking about swans?

you walk together in silence for a while, gravel crunching beneath your feet as you tread towards the lake’s edge.

there’s a bench near the water, slightly concealed by the trees, budding with vibrant petals that draft in the breeze. you sit there together, felix leaving a few inches of polite space between you.

a couple swans start trumpeting in symphony when they recognise felix. you giggle as they glide over on the water, obnoxiously honking in demand for more food.

at your soft noise, felix glances over to you, his lip quirked. you don’t realise it, but it spurs him on— and suddenly he’s mocking the swans, honking right back at them.

your laughter only encourages him till you’re patting his shoulder, telling him to stop being mean.

“it’s okay, they love me,” felix chuckles, picking up a stone from the ground. “they’re forever loyal to me.”

you giggle. “swans do mate for life.”

he glances at you, thoughtful.

you don’t meet his eyes.

“i’ve been meaning to ask,” he starts, then pauses, fidgeting with the stone as he rolls it around in his hand. “the ring.”

your body stills. felix makes a vague motion with his hand. he doesn’t want to say the word out loud— real— but he doesn’t have to. it’s all there in the breath he doesn’t take.

you nod. “it’s real, yeah.”

silence. you could cut through it with a knife.

you stare out at the lake, at your swan drifting alone. you wish you could trade places at will. she can deal with your employment and impending marriage while you swim and eat breadcrumbs from a gorgeous blonde.

felix breaks your train of thought as he tosses the stone to the lake, and you both watch it skip across the water. you exhale, just barely glancing at felix through your peripheral.

“sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” you say quietly. “most of the time, actually.”

he doesn’t speak. after a breath, you crack.

“i don’t even know what i’m doing here,” you laugh bitterly, grabbing your forehead. “it’s all so stupid.”

you’re not even sure why, but your breaths come out heavy, exasperated— and your chest is heaving and your throat is closing. you consider biting your ring finger clean off and chucking it into the lake.

felix says your name, shifting closer. and then it all comes flooding out.

you’re just as surprised as him: one moment you were fine, then your voice cracks with a sob, and felix is closing the distance between you.

his arms come around you without hesitation, but carefully. you press your face into his shoulder before you can second-guess it. he smells like laundry powder and brown sugar and all the warmth you’ve gone without that you’ve so desperately needed.

felix holds you quietly. doesn’t ask more, just understands without needing all the ugly details.

“so that’s how it is,” he murmurs, maybe more to himself than you.

you shudder with another sob, and he’s cooing a soft: “hey, don’t cry,”

you finally pull back, wiping your tears across your face. you blink away the last of them, and your vision comes into focus on felix smiling at you— small and sad and full of something you don’t know what.

you take notice of the wet patches on his hoodie, and you crack up with laughter. he giggles with you, soft and deep.

“i wanted to show you something.” he stands suddenly, offering his hand.

you’d be a fool not to take it.

he leads you away from the lake by the hand, down a narrow path that veers off behind a grove of trees. you walk to a lone bench, covered with fallen leaves, surrounded by a patch of flowers. a quiet haven secluded from the nearby buildings— tucked into the edge of campus where no one but the groundsman really goes.

“it’s so pretty here,” you whisper.

felix looks at you instead. “it is.”

you know what’s coming before it happens.

felix shifts towards you, raising his palm again for you to hold. he’ll probably lead you further down the path, keep showing you more of his little hideaway.

but when you take his hand, your fingers curl around his quickly, and you’re leaning in— only stopping yourself once you’re a breath from felix.

your name falls from his lips, breathless. his jaw flexes. you’re not sure if he’ll push you off or pull you in. he just waits; adam’s apple bobbing with his eyes darting over your face.

you feel yourself tipping, slowly, towards him. and then he’s leaning in to meet you there.

the kiss barely even exists— just the soft press of his lips to yours, a whisper of a moment that’s over as soon as it came.

but it’s enough.

enough to shatter the delusion you’ve been clinging to— that it could be just friendliness, just harmless company to ease the ache of your lonely days and nothing more. you told yourself that you were just starved for conversation, for warmth, for someone your own age who looked at you like you were alive.

but this was never going to be just company.

it’s a crack in the dam. a current you can’t swim against. and you don’t want to even try.

because your lips are finding his again, and it’s different. deep, heavy. a question blending into a confession. you feel him exhale against you like he’s been holding his breath for days.

your fingers lace with the soft blonde at the nape of his neck, and his hands settle at your waist like he’s memorised every curve of you. there’s no hesitation now. no pretending. just heat and hunger, the kind that’s been simmering beneath every lingering glance, every shared laugh, every stupid reason he’s found to talk to you.

felix’s tongue teases your lips, tentative, before you’re parting your mouth to let the kiss deepen. you push yourself impossibly close to him, tugging gently on his locks and pulling a heavy sigh from his throat.

you don’t know if you’ve ever been this fired up for another person. you jut your face forward, tilting felix’s head with your hands to kiss deeper, to taste more of him. his fingers twitch on your waist— you know he’s still holding back.

you can’t help yourself to rolling you hips against him. a low groan from felix rumbles down your throat, a spotlight on the hardness pressing at your thigh.

suddenly his hands are snaking down, and you gasp when he grabs the underside of your thighs. you don’t even realise how, but suddenly felix has you sat down on the bench, kiss unbroken while hands trailing up your sides.

his mouth comes off yours in a breathless cuss, eyes hooded with want as he takes you in— panting, whining for him to come back.

he trails kisses along your jaw, hands sliding over your chest with a firm squeeze. you’re sure he feels how your heart’s drumming under his touch as he snickers lowly at your neck.

you shudder when his hand slides up your thigh, fingertips brushing over the fabric of your shorts. his eyes are on you the whole time, checking for hesitation, and coming up with none.

you blink, and suddenly felix is dropping to his knees, pulling you to the edge of the seat. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you’re gasping as his mouth latches onto your skin— tongue hot on your inner thigh. his fingers curl around your waistband, and he glances up, watchful as you writhe above him.

you nod then, permission to do what he’s asking to— and felix smiles like you just hung the moon in the sky.

and then your phone’s ringing.

your whole body jolts as the shrill sound slices through the moment. you’re already scrambling into your pocket for your phone, heartbeat stuttering.

the screen’s lit up with a name you’ve learned to dread, and you’re pulling away from felix in the next breath.

“i have to go,”

he stands with you, hands falling to his sides, blinking like you’ve just woken from the same dream.

“wait—” he reaches out, but doesn’t touch you, brows pinched like he’s afraid to burn you.

you shake your head. “i’m sorry.”

and then you’re gone— running, throat burning with bile, mouth still tasting of felix.

but you can’t look back.

because if you do, you might have second thoughts.

it’s not until you recognise the car pulling into view that you glance over your shoulder, checking that felix isn’t chasing after you, glass slipper in hand.

but there’s no prince charming to coming to save you. the clock strikes midnight as you reach for the door handle— your dress turning back into rags, and your real happily ever after waiting behind the wheel.

your lips still tingle with him. felix. with what could’ve been yours, and was never meant to be.

⠀

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[alexrosa13]

Professor's Princess

professor!Rafayel x female!student!reader

Genre: smut with lots of plot (it's mostly plot)

Warnings: 19,7k words, the usual minor writing smut! (month away before 18 alr, I could gatekeep it for the next month, but a promise is a promise @pozuki) block or scroll if uncomfortable!, Rafayel and reader having the same past as him and mc, however with a different present plot so reader is not the mc, reader studies art and is an artist!, reader's clothes described (skirts, dresses, revealing clothes and high shoes, no body features specified tho other than reader having hair), nude paintings, this work contains lots of deep feelings and love, so if you're not into sweet stuff this is not for you, fingering, sex in a public space (classroom//office in the university), male & female masturbation, mutual masturbation, penis in vagina sex, crempie (reader is said to be on birth control), nicknames (cutie, baby, princess←overused I'm not sorry), stalker Rafayel if you squint..., supportive friends (nps's names: Soraya, Angela)

Note: I tried my best to add accurate information about art here, together with coming out with what Rafayel's personal opinions would be like, please do correct me if anything you see here is a false claim!

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

When Rafayel became your professor you didn't bat an eye, focused on your goals, not taking a notice of the hottie everyone talked about. What changed and pushed you to catch feelings? Do you believe in fate? Because something clearly pushes you his way...

‘How do you even get yourself into a situation like this?’

You were sitting on a lecture about modern art, the topic itself very much interesting, especially when the person talking about it was Rafayel himself, but most of the people there didn't come to learn about art.

He could have said something like sky is green or purple color doesn't exist and they would all nod and agree with him, simply because of the way he carries himself, unusual and unparalleled artist with a specific worldview, not afraid to voice controversial opinions.

But he was so much more than that.

Everyone admired him for his work and character, the second of which seemed weird since if anyone else would act the same way he did they would be considered rude and tactless, but Rafayel? He could be as mean as he'd want to, and people would continue singing him praises, what an unfair standard that comes with being famous. Other people simply excused his behavior because of his looks, which you had to admit, were really, really good.

At first you didn't like him, didn't even respect him to be honest, thinking of him as another rich man with too much influence in his hands, but with time? You started noticing the little things.

The way he spoke about art as something magical itself, having deeper respect for a piece of paper than an actual human being, and honestly? In some weird way you approved that thinking logic.

Most people in this specific class weren't artists, or even just people interested in it, they simply chose to attend that class because someone popular (despite not even being active in the media) works as a professor, limiting the amount of free places in the lecture for people actually interested in what he's talking about.

You still had no idea how you got a place, since you signed up for it really late and didn't expect to actually make it, but to your surprise you got yourself a spot.

Totally not because the professor himself pulled some strings...

Rafayel wasn't actually half as bad as you first thought, he didn't indulge in people exciting over his existence, didn't use his popularity as a sign that he deserves respect, no. He was much more simple than that, which also made him more complicated since he was so different from the rest.

You didn't really engage in making friends at the university, focusing on your art and people whom you already knew for longer, people who were actually interested in what you do, allowing you a sneak peeks at the process of their own creative work.

And they were enough for you. You liked being alone, didn't care much about people's opinions, preferring silence or music over conversations that you couldn't end out of politeness when they got boring.

Humans were boring.

That's what you use to justify your lack of social interactions for the most part. A couple of people who you knew just get you and actually like you were enough, especially since the conversations at the university were always the same, talks about relationships, problems of our world, parties and stuff like that. Now the quiet groups at the university did in fact sound fun sometimes, talking about topics that you wouldn't catch in the casual conversation when meeting a stranger, weirdly specific and interesting.

And last days? Everyone talks about Rafayel.

Girls talking about how much they would like a private lesson with a professor like this in an obvious context, even some guys engaging on it sometimes.

Just Rafayel, Rafayel and Rafayel, whenever you go.

You get it, he's hot, young and simply so, so attractive simply by just existing.

But did they really have no other problems in life than getting laid?

Now at the start of his lectures you kind of despised him, thinking of his as an annoying, selfish prick, who got too much fame for no reason.

But with time and each lesson you gained more and more respect for him, the way he talked mesmerizing you, bringing out passion for art from the depths of each and everyone who'd listen, the way the world around him seemed to stop every time he picked a paintbrush, the way he didn't care about other's opinions, strict but also really chill, a perfect professor.

And the way he looked at you...

It started innocently, you noticed how his gaze seemed to wander to you whenever you entered his classroom, stopping whatever he was doing for a second too long to simply look at you and take you in, something you noticed he didn't do with anyone else.

At first you thought that it was just your imagination, like you were a 10 year old in a water pool trying to gain the attention of an older lifeguard, now you looked out for the attention of your professor. He wasn't that much older than you though, maybe two or three years from what you know.

And despite telling yourself that his glances didn't mean anything, your friend decided to pursue you into testing the theory that he actually likes you.

So one day you wore something that would definitely catch his attention if he decided to pay any to you.

Nothing too risky, just something that you wouldn't usually wear to a boring, hours long lectures, a skirt and a top with a little deeper neckline than you usually wore.

And just when you walked into his classroom, prepared for your friend's plan to fail, he glanced at you like he always did. You tried to act all natural about it, so slowly you walked to your seat, noticing in the corner of your eye that his eyes followed you for much longer than ever before.

Sitting up you decided to sneak a glance at him again; and that's when you caught it.

His eyes studying your figure, his expression not betraying his thoughts, he seemed just as if looking at something that brought him instant inspiration.

Something worth his attention.

His eyes went up to your face, noticing the way you watched him.

Instead of looking away embarrassed he continued to stare, acting as if it didn't mean anything, but you knew the truth. He never graced any other student with his beautiful eyes straying to them for so long.

You smiled slyly, but subtly, resting your chin on your hand, watching the way he couldn't seem to look away.

Noticing your expression he only smirked, finally moving his eyes to the papers before him.

You had him in your grasp, now the only question is how to approach someone like him about it?

Coming back to a recent time: the lecture slowly came to an end, students began to wrap up their stuff to go about their day, when someone's loud voice disturbed the sounds of chairs being moved.

“Professor Rafayel, since the next lesson is about nude painting will you model for us?” One of the very not funny popular girls at the academy asked while giggling with her girlfriends.

Rafayel didn't even turn around from the canvas, standing right before the huge board in the center of the classroom, studying the works his students submitted for the next academy exhibition.

Uncomfortable silence fell onto the hall, only interrupted by giggles of the people who found disrespecting professors funny.

“You're saying that as if you were able to create a full body sketch while portraying the correct human anatomy.” He stated coldly, as usual. Giggles instantly died down when he finally turned around, walking towards his desk casually, as if he didn't just embarrass a student. “I remember how your sketch of a couple sitting and holding hands turned out. Their limbs stretched out way too long to be considered human, women's breasts bigger than her own head while her body remained tiny and slim, don't even get me started on the guy's abs.” He lifted his head up, his cold gaze instantly making the girl look down in shame. “Now, I don't mean that people aren't allowed to be beginners, make mistakes, or are obligated to perfection. No. What I mean is that only people who come here to paint and improve themselves will attend the nude painting lecture.”

Whispers began circling around you, you couldn't help but smirk, instantly trying to hide it.

So he did notice how most of his students had nothing to do with art...

“Same goes to each and every next lesson that will acquire drawing skills on at least decent level. You're in this class for what, two months now? How come you're still unable to create a sketch that at least resembles a human.” He deadpanned, some of the students began to feel called out, just like the girl herself. “I was being nice, turning a blind eye to your incompetence, but really, how can you take a course that is too advanced for you? And not even try to gain any knowledge from it nonetheless.” He said while grabbing a stack of papers and making his way to the classroom door, stopping in the middle of his way. “I'll say this once and let it sink in. The next lecture won't be for anyone without the ability to hold a paintbrush properly.”

And with that he walked out.

A moment of silence met the hall walls again, before people began laughing. The girl and her minions gathered their things with a pout, talking about them never coming back here and what a dick that professor was.

You looked behind you, instantly making eye contact with a girl who just like you attended these classes from passion, she sent you a wink before continuing to pack her things and laughing under her nose.

Oh yes, Rafayel is not as shallow as you took him for.

You had strange dreams, more often than not you found yourself in the ocean depths, not drowning but simply being there, feeling like you and the cold water were one, before suddenly waking up.

Ever since you could remember you felt connected to the ocean, your inspiration skyrocketing every time you gazed into its surface, hearing the waves hit the shore.

Living only about 15 minutes away from it you could easily get there anytime you felt like it, often finding yourself sitting at a distance from the shore with a sketchbook, scribbling something even if you didn't know what final effect you were going for.

It's always been like this, your art often centering around the deep waters, sometimes you drew a human swimming while looking up towards the light above them, illuminating their face, sometimes it was mermaids, mostly male (for no reason at all) wrapped in jewelry all over them. Sometimes simply the view below the surface, colorful, lively, sometimes sad and depressive, all depending on your mood.

But lately... Whatever you try to draw, paint, create, resembles one specific person...

Rafayel.

Your art professor.

Why? You didn't even know. Every time you picked a paintbrush and just went with the flow, planning to simply create a man, any man, the face you painted looked like him, his hair, his silhouette, just him.

You were so tired of it. Feeling like a teen having their first celebrity crush, knowing fully well they will never happen.

But you still managed to keep your hopes up.

However if anyone asked? You didn't care about him, at all, that's it, that's the story, you don't care.

Because you didn't want to be like all those brain-less girls attending his class just to admire him. You had a goal, you wanted to improve, to learn, to build your future starting by finishing this university, and no hot professor will be able to pull you away from something you worked all your life for.

But also with each and every word spoken by him he seemed more and more mesmerizing, your gaze wandering around his features, unconsciously implanting his image into your brain.

And despite you trying not to pay attention to it you could feel his eyes on you more often than not.

Tomorrow's another lecture. Nude paintings. You can do it, more than familiar with painting human anatomy. But also it's supposed to have less people than ever before attending it...

Honestly, if he already managed to build a house in your mind with the way he had you thinking about him everyday, why won't you do the same to him?

After all, two can play this game, right? Let's push his limits a little bit, live a little, you won't risk your place in the academy since you're not planning to do something scandalous, right? They can't kick you out for no evidence that you tried to seduce your professor, right?

You did just what you said you would. The very next day you woke up a little earlier, just to put your plan in motion.

You picked out clothes from your dresses for about half an hour, finding stuff you haven't seen for years at this point, trying to put together the cutest outfit you could.

Settling for a sweet body-hugging skirt ending at the perfect length so that you won't flash anyone while just walking around, a transparent shirt showing everything except your breasts, carefully hiding them behind a soft sewn-in material, adorable tights and a pair of cute platform shoes.

Topping everything with a cardigan to hide away from the strict professors, who don't understand that clothes do not disturb their lessons.

After making sure you looked your best and sending a selfie to your friend group you got ready to officially start the day, hopeful that your efforts won't go unnoticed.

And to say that they didn't go to waste would be an understanding...

A couple hours later you walked into the art class full of already prepared canvas, Rafayel nowhere in sight yet. You noticed some girls talking to who you thought volunteered to be a model for today's project, probably someone who needed a quick cash, he wasn't bad looking, but not really your type either.

He looked too cocky, with good features and probably a gym freak, but something about him screamed ‘do not approach, he'd fuck anything that moves’.

A typical guy with nothing other on his mind than scoring a girl, pretty much proving you right when you saw him exchanging numbers with two girls that he probably just met.

Well not like you cared about that anyways, let them live their life or whatever like that.

Settling for a place in the corner, very close to the door, behind the others (meaning: they won't see what you're doing), and in a perfect spot for whoever sat at the professor's desk to see you clearly, you took your cardigan off and waited for your prey.

Luckily you didn't have to wait for long.

Rafayel walked in a minute later, not really glancing at the class on his way to put the heavy stuff he carried in his hands down.

You straighten up your back, trying your best to look lost in thought while staring at the blank canvas before you, moving a pencil in the air before it as if trying to imagine the lines you were going to sketch.

For a second you really got lost in daydream, inspiration flowing to you naturally, but before you could have started thinking about the details of your idea your train of thoughts returned to the current situation.

Now, how do you turn around unsuspiciously to check if he was looking at you.

Glancing at the pencil in your hand you began to slowly twist it between your fingers, trying your best to make dropping it look like an accident. Loosening up the pressure in your hand you let it fall to the ground with a soft thud.

Your face shot down, unhurriedly getting off your stool to pick it up.

You crouched down facing his desk, gently picking up your tool and lifting your head his way while standing up.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second.

Watching the way your skirt rode up when you moved and the way you used your hands to fix it slowly, before finally his eyes went up to look at your face.

He didn't falter at being caught, too busy taking you in.

Not wanting to act weird and not really wishing for someone in your class to notice your weird behavior, you moved back to your seat, acting as if nothing happened.

Well to be honest the only thing that happened was your pussy waking up at his watchful gaze.

Why did he have to be so otherworldly hot? The universe wasn't fair.

You don't remember any other guy other than fictional ones that made you get aroused so fast. Why the fuck was it so easy for him? You didn't like acting crazy over some... Guys...

Not your style.

Okay, that's a lie, you didn't like it only because you couldn't fuck him, other than that you wouldn't complain.

“Alright, that's it for the waiting, whoever was supposed to be in this class today is already here.” You looked around noticing about half of the usual squad missing, people probably did listen to him saying that he doesn't want anyone coming here for nothing. For someone looking this cute he sure as hell had a way to sound harsh and cold, not taking anyone's bullshit.

You giggled into your hand quietly at the thought of him calling out people's idiotism.

“As you all know we last studied bodily anatomy. Most of you did good, some of you still need guidance, but that's okay, since everyone here has improved their technique over the past two months enough to pass a certain criteria.” You followed everyone's gazes, turning on your stool to face your professor, who was currently busy looking out of the window next to his desk. “I believe you already noticed today's model.” He glanced at the man currently busy making the girls blush, not mentioning anything else about him. “We have about 3 to 4 hours today, I want you to focus mainly on the full picture and try your best to capture your model with precision to each mole and mark, if you won't be able to finish in time, you'll simply add details another time since this isn't our last lesson on the topic.” He looked around the class, all eyes turned to him as usual, with his hand he gestured to the volunteer model to come to him.

Hall erupted in small talks as he focused on explaining something to the guy before sending him to probably get ready for hours of standing still naked.

“Nude art was first introduced to us back in Ancient Greek times, later on succeeding in stealing the spotlight in Western art, often presented as something controversial, back then - and now, together with the porn industry absolutely devaluing human body's worth.” The moment he began talking again the whole class quietened down, focusing all their attention on him. “People started portraying bare body as something only serving sexual purposes, thinking that the only purpose of nude art is to arouse the viewer.” He walked to the front of his desk, leaning on it while facing the small crowd. “Now personally I do not believe that the only purpose of it was to serve such a function, but people are free to believe what they want.”

Some people looked at each other, thinking about where the other's opinion stands, you glanced at them for a moment, but your eyes quickly returned to Rafayel.

“But also if you do believe that portraying human's body on canvas is only for it to serve as porn imagine, I do not know what you're even doing here.” He tilted his head for a second, thinking. “From the moment your model will take his pose you're free to start your work at any moment, you may also not work at all, I really don't care, just don't disturb the ones trying to make something beautiful.” He glanced at you for a moment, looking way too natural while doing so, but compared to him staring at the walls whenever he talked it surely wasn't a coincidence. “Do you have any questions before we start?” He shot a quick glance around.

“I do.” One girl from the other side of the hall stated, everyone's gaze momentarily turned to her. Rafayel quickly nodded his head her way gesturing for her to talk. “You said people portray the human body as something exclusively sexual. If not for sexual purposes, what do you think nude art represents?” She asked, not shying away from the topic, she was one of the devoted students, rather quiet one but you even liked her.

“It can represent a lot of things, depending on the artist's vision and the viewer's interpretation. It can portray emotions, feelings, meanings, anything you'd like. In today's world we hide away from nakedness, today's society makes us believe that showing our bodies is something to be ashamed of.” He could have talked about anything and you were sure you'd still hang on every word. His voice sounded so smooth each time he opened his mouth. “Making us feel like exposing the body we are born with is a crime. And while I agree that it is something intimate to see someone bare themselves before you, it's not half as intimate as baring your soul to somebody. And that soul is something that I want you to capture. Each painting has its soul, if you fail to capture it, you're taking away any life from your work. If you don't put your soul into your art, you are not a true artist.” He calmly said, stating his opinion effortlessly as always.

The corners of your mouth rose involuntarily, something about him talking about putting your soul into your paintings making you feel good. After all - each of your works contained part of you in them, having someone say that art has a deeper meaning than just colors on a paper looking nice felt good. Having someone with good values teaching you was nice.

Rafayel rounded his desk again, sitting in his chair while everyone focused on their conversations or preparations for painting. Your eyes didn't leave him for a moment, not caring if someone catches you staring, you wouldn't be the first to do it anyway.

Rafayel raised his eyes to you once again, clearly not by accident.

You shot him a quick grin, your small smile stretching up the moment he returned the gesture.

Your chest shook a little with quiet laughter, you had to fight yourself, biting your cheek to finally turn around from him to finally focus on the task at hand.

You didn't even notice when the model came back and got himself ready to be captured. Not caring one bit that someone hot stood naked not that far away from you. Thoughts occupied by the one and only Rafayel.

You took one deep breath to calm yourself down and relax, unknowingly sending your professor into a daze with the way your barely covered chest rose up before slowly falling back.

No one paid him no mind, their full focus on the naked guy before them, so he was free to stare all he wanted.

Your skirt barely covered your butt, showing off your entire pretty legs while you sat comfortably, you didn't pay it any mind, closing yourself for the outside world as you always did while painting, he admired that about you, the way the whole universe seemed to disappear for you the moment you picked up your tool of work, be it a pencil, crayon, paintbrush, literally anything.

You probably wore that on purpose too. He noticed you weren't usually the one for dressing up everyday, he couldn't help but wonder if it was all for him, having a feeling the tension between you was rising with each and every lecture he had with your class.

At first he didn't want to believe that you would return his interest so fast, prepared to give you years before finally trying something, he was a patient man after all, but you shattered his plans completely the moment your eyes met for the first time, making him a goner, nothing else mattered but you. He taught this class only because of you, and despite keeping his feelings at bay from the moment he saw you he failed his mission, unable to act like you didn't matter to him, he shouldn't have believed himself when he thought that he'll be able to stay away from you for so long.

But now seeing as you started making your own moves in this game of catch he knew that sooner or later he'll break.

Wanting nothing more than your soul to be his once again.

He didn't even notice how seconds turned into minutes, half an hour passing with him not moving his eyes away from you.

He should be talking about something, walking around the class and watching everyone's work, doing what he was hired to do (not like they would kick him out of the job anyways) but instead of that he put all his focus into studying you.

Your body, your face, your body language, your expressions, the way your hair rearranges itself on your head with every small movement, the way your hands worked on the canvas, the way you breathed.

You were truly a work of art in the purest form.

He couldn't help but make a mental note that you didn't often look at the model before you, maybe glanced at him three times and that was it, as if just those seconds were enough for you to recreate his image to perfection.

You didn't pay any mind to his staring, either ignoring it, playing hard to get or really not noticing anything around you while focusing on your art.

He was only forced to tear his gaze away from you when a student asked to check on their work.

And that's how he spent the next hour or so. Walking around between the canvas, giving advice here and there when asked for it, correcting someone's major mistakes (even if he didn't really care about those), giving small encouragements or simple nods of approval or simply staying quiet while watching someone's work from behind them.

But never once did he get to you.

He wasn't avoiding you, no, you just simply didn't pay any mind to his little rounds, stuck in your creativity even when needing to paint something specifically from your eyes only and not your imagination.

Noticing everyone's busy with their work he casually strolled your way, you didn't even spare him a glance.

Standing right behind you he began studying your work with great interest, every stroke of color on your canvas somehow turning out naturally perfect, effortless. You had talent and passion, he saw that in the way your works always seemed to have a soul, a meaning. You had what it takes to become a remarkable artist, and he couldn't be more proud of you.

Unnoticed by him he became so mesmerized by your art process that he didn't even register the way he slowly began leaning closer to you.

Until his torso met your shoulder gently.

He didn't move away, calm and collected, waiting for your reaction.

You titled your head for a moment to glance at him before continuing with your work as if nothing had happened.

His hands linked behind his back while he innocently decided not to pull away.

“Am I doing good, professor Rafayel?” You asked in a whisper, casually, as if his breathing didn't currently tickle your neck. You felt his body move slightly together with his subtle nods.

“Very. You're a natural.” He said into your ear, not bothering worrying if someone will see.

You couldn't help but let a proud grin appear on your lips, compliments from someone like him boosting your ego a little too much.

“Thank you, professor.” You glanced back at him again, with a playful glint in your eye.

His breathing got caught, you somehow managed to make a playful, cutesy tone sound seductive. Or maybe that was just his imagination?

He shot a quick look at the rest of the hall, not noticing anyone who'd look your way, your place on the edge of the class helping him in staying unnoticed.

Without thinking about it he looked down at you, unintentionally allowing himself to gaze at your covered breasts.

Did you not wear a bra? How come he hasn't noticed before? Well maybe because your shirt was way too good at keeping everything in the right position, embracing your body in all the right places.

He noticed the way you suddenly froze, turning your head around to send him a questioning look.

For a moment he didn't know what was wrong, but then he felt it.

His penis was poking your ass.

Holy shit he didn't even notice when he got a hard on.

His eyes widened while looking down at himself, his body leaning way too close to yours than morally appropriate.

He considered moving away and coming back to his desk to hide his little problem.

But then he noticed how your body slightly shook. His eyes returned to your face, you tried your best to hide your giggles, but couldn't hold back a cheeky grin on your face.

He watched you intensively, curious whether or not you'll make a move to get closer or pull away from him, since obviously you were not uncomfortable.

And a move you made...

Straightening up casually on your stool before reaching out for a paint a little too far away from you, knowing fully well that your perfect ass caught his attention when you bended your back for a moment before coming back to your sitting position, but this time moving way closer to him, making his dick throb in his pants at the contact.

Oh so you're one to play dirty? He's into that.

But he noticed a couple of lingering eyes on him, probably wondering why he spends so much time staring at your work.

Not wanting to raise people's suspicions just now he decided it was time to pause your little game for now.

Reaching out his hand he randomly pointed at something on your canvas.

“Add more shading here, it'll give more realism to your piece.” He said casually, as if he totally didn't think about shamefully rubbing against you just now.

You nodded your head approvingly, instantly moving to do as he says, fighting a smirk that threatened to show on your face.

Stay calm woman. Stay calm. He's the desperate one here.

You told yourself, despite the feeling of wetness accompanying you every time your thighs moved against one another.

But he doesn't need to know that.

As if nothing has occurred between you two he walked away from you. His slow steady footsteps echoing in your ears.

“I'll leave you alone for a moment, I trust that once I come back in 20 minutes the class won't be a battlefield, remember; paints are not a weapon, I do not want a brand new floor design.” He stated while walking out of the class, succeeding in making some students chuckle.

You couldn't help but wonder... Did he leave for a little bathroom break to take care of his problem?

Oh it's a shame you can't leave the class without drawing suspicions cause you would love to help him out.

As a good, exemplary student.

It didn't take you that long to come back to your stuck in mind state, all thoughts leaving at once, only you and the canvas before you existing.

A couple more glances at the model later you were halfway done with your piece, you took a peek at the clock on the wall, showing you that 2 and half an hour had passed since the class started.

Rafayel left the hall about 15 minutes ago, you couldn't help but wonder what was he doing...

Did he think about you while doing it?

Okay, stop, you can't be that needy yet, it was too early to get so excited over the thought of your professor getting off to the memory of your ass rubbing against him.

Just as you tried to bring your thoughts back to the right track the classroom doors finally opened again.

You didn't turn around, not letting him know that you were thinking about him, but you listened carefully to each step he took before his desk chair moved signalling him sitting down.

Silence overtook the whole room for a while, everyone trying their best to make their work look absolutely beautiful to gain a rare compliment from their professor.

You were finishing up when he spoke up again.

“We have half an hour left. Will anyone here need additional time another day to finish up?” His question met with about three raised hands, he only nodded, coming back to the papers before him, but by the movement of his hand over the sheet you could tell he wasn't filling out paperwork, he was probably sketching something.

“Professor Rafayel, did you ever had someone model for you?” You suddenly heard, everyone started glancing around, looking for a person who asked that.

You glanced at Rafayel, he seemed lost in thought, did he even hear the question?

Whispers started growing around you, you made eye contact with that one okay girl who simply shrugged sending you a confused look.

“No.” He answered without batting an eye. You looked at the girl again, both of your expressions showing disbelief.

An artist like that? Never painting a model? Never getting paid to paint someone?

Ain't no way.

“Why not?” A male voice spoke up, one of the three guy students in the class.

“No one ever made me feel inspired enough for me to ask them to model for me. And I was never interested in painting people for money.” Is that so...

“Would you paint your lover if you had one?” A bold girl asked, clearly one of the many with a crush on him.

Finally you saw Rafayel moving his eyes away from the paper and glancing at the classroom.

“Maybe.” He said, bringing people's whispers back with just one word.

You even heard someone jokingly throw the draw me like one of your French girls line.

Damn someone in this day and age remembered Titanic?

Your ears sadly picked up more conversations than you would like.

“Oh I could model for him all day.”

“I wonder if he would restrain himself while painting someone he likes nude.”

“How many things I would give up just to be his canvas...”

Talking like this about someone who's in the same room as them? Bold and stupid.

You at least could keep you quiet.

It was a lot more fun this way.

Those last couple of minutes till the lecture end were spent on conversations and moving around, cleaning up work stations and making sure that you didn't miss out any crucial detail on your work.

A couple people left already, and you finally started gathering your things.

Soraya, the girl you exchanged glances with before, came to your station.

“Can you believe the audacity of some people?” She whispered with a disgusted face.

“Nope, honestly, I cannot.” You send her a sarcastic grin.

“I get it, our professor is hot, but why do they have to act like he would ever even glance in their direction for more than half a second.” She said while throwing her bag onto her shoulder.

“Let them stay delusional I guess? What can I say.” You chuckled with her.

“Wanna go to that one cafe nearby the campus? My girlfriend finishes up her studies about now too, we can hang out for a bit.”

“Sure, why not, I have an hour or two to spare.” You nodded, gathering last of your stuff.

“Great~” She hummed out. “I'll wait for you before the classroom, I need to call her and ask where she'll meet us.” You nodded once again.

You met her girlfriend maybe two times before, she was an overall nice but unhinged person. The perfect balance between cute and dangerous, one would say.

You hurriedly turned around to pick up your cardigan from the floor, when your face collided with someone's chest.

Taking a step back you send whoever stood before you an annoyed glance, which changed into shocked one the moment you saw those pretty bluish-pink eyes staring right back at you.

Without a word he picked up your sweater and handed it to you as if it wasn't weird...

“Your work is great.” He glanced behind you at the finished painting.

“Why, thank you.” You squinted your eyes in slight confusion.

“Do you often draw silhouettes? Most of your work that I've seen are landscapes.” You nodded gently, still not really sure why he approached you like this, with people around you two...

“Yeah, I... I draw lots of things, including human anatomy, yes.” And not only human one...

“Aren't you a talented girl. Keep it up, you're doing a good work.” He said like it meant nothing coming from his mouth. So many people would die to hear those words from him, hear him appreciating their work.

And you were granted that honor.

Suddenly you noticed him leaning a little closer to you. “Better than anyone in this God-be-dammed school.” He whispered close to your ear before casually turning around and coming back to his desk.

What. The. Fuck.

Just when did you become a teacher's pet? Not that you're complaining of course...

Stopping your flood of thoughts you finally made your way out of the class, not acknowledging a beautiful pair of eyes following your every move, focusing on the smooth sway of your hips in that pretty skirt you wore today.

“What did the professor want from you?” Was the first thing you heard once you walked out of the classroom.

“What?” You didn't even have time to fully grasp what just happened when Soraya began her questioning.

“He legit came to talk to you about something a second ago.” She said while crossing her arms, looking at you like a police officer at a suspect.

You exhaled and shot your head up with a tired groan. “He complimented my work.” You looked at her for a split-second before walking away, hearing her footsteps right behind you.

“And did he need to be this close to you to simply compliment your work?” She teased, nudging you with an elbow.

“Oh pl-ease. He wasn't that close.” You glanced at her with a grin on your lips, instantly seeing a similar one appear on her face.

“Girl.” She chuckled, you only laughed and looked back at the huge corridor before you. “You like him.” She whispered into your ear with a slight disbelief. “I thought you said that he's a selfish rich guy with questioning morals...” She continued, making sure that none walking by students overheard.

“That was two months ago. People change.” You made an argument, closing the topic for now.

But you should know that it wouldn't be the end of this conversation, especially since she had to share the new found sensation with her girlfriend.

“Girl, what?!” Angela half screamed in shock staring right at you.

You were only sitting down for like 5 minutes before the whole topic came back. You shrugged while watching the girl process the information.

“Hottest professor in the history of our university, the one that people bet on who will get to fuck, the same one that humbles every girl that tried to make a move.” She stopped her wild hand gestures for a second, bending over the table to get closer to you, slamming her hands on it in the process. “Is interested in you?!” She whispered like a top-tier secret, looking into your eyes as if she could have read your mind that way.

“Honestly, I don't know.” You whispered back to her.

“What the hell do you mean you ‘don't know’?!” 'Raya butted into the conversation, also leaning on the table, it must have looked ridiculous from other people's views. “Girl I sat close to you this whole time, do you think I didn't notice how he was clinging to you while you painted.” She raised her eyebrows, looking at you like you had grown a second head.

“He did what?!” Angela screamed in a whisper.

“He was only standing close, it's not like he was hugging me or something.” Oh you knew you were lying.

Both girls froze up for a moment, their mouth opening in disbelief.

“Are you blind?”

“Or delusional?”

Not able to keep the calm act anymore you began laughing while covering your mouth.

”Damn she completely lost it.” Angela whispered to her girlfriend while looking at you.

“I'm fine, just... Holy shit!” They finally backed away to sit back straight. Perfectly in sync with the waitress bringing your ordered drinks.

For a moment you had to keep up the ‘we are normal’ play, but the moment the woman was gone the conversation rose back up.

“Okay girl, so do you actually like him or should we go to the higher-ups to fire him for harassing a student?” Angela looked at you with a suddenly serious expression.

You nodded your head. “I do like him. I didn't think I would, but damn... I do.” You stated while bringing your drink to your mouth for a sip-

“Do you want to fuck him?” And almost ended up spitting it out at this question.

“Angie...” Soraya laughed at the whole situation, facepalming at her girlfriend's curiosity.

„What?! That's an important question!” She defended herself. „So? Do you?” And the conversation came back to you again.

You exhaled loudly, trying to collect your thoughts, but you couldn't lie to yourself.

”Fuck yes.”

“See? I knew it!” Angela instantly argued with Soraya, who only nodded with a small chuckle. “Do you think he only wants to fuck you, or maybe date you?” And the questioning continued.

“I have no idea. But damn right I would date that hottie, but if it would only be a one time thing I'd still take it.” Girl no, you wouldn't - you already started planning what animals will you adopt after moving in together.

“Honestly I don't think that Rafayel is into one night stands, he seems like someone who would get hopelessly in love.” Soraya stated while playing with her drink's straw.

“I don't have lectures with him so I don't know.” Angie said but then started thinking for a moment. “Buuut... I talked with someone who does. She said that he talked about love as an ‘addictive pain’... He seems like a guy who despite acting nonchalant would love deeply, with his whole soul.” Angela got lost in her mind for a moment, as if dreaming about something.

“You won't understand an artist's mind when it comes to love, it's too complicated, especially for someone who seems so complex.” Soraya stated as if she herself wasn't an artist.

“I know... But honestly the idea that someone could love like this is so, so romantic. I'll stick to that mindset until you prove me wrong.” She looked out of the window, daydreaming about a perfect love story.

“Also if you were to start dating him... You'll need to hide it, and it will be tough for those next years, especially since he has students tailing him like a puppy wherever he goes.” Soraya continued with her monologue, breaking the tempting idea of dating a professor.

“By the way how much older is he?” Angie asked curiously.

“I think maybe 2 or 3 years?” 'Raya looked at you for clarification to which you simply nodded.

“Okay, then at least it's not creepy. Girl, you better fuck. that. guy.” Damn she's a little demon.

“Oh don't worry, I will try...” You took another sip.

Through next week's lectures you didn't really have an opportunity to tease your professor, but despite the inability for any physical contact without drawing unnecessary attention, your eyes continued to unconsciously look for each other.

Getting lost in his eyes proved to be too easy of a task, his beautiful irises hiding colorful ocean depths drew you in every time you raised your head to look at him.

You were falling for him.

Your heart beating faster each time he graced you with even a second of attention, your body shivering every time he passed by your desk, your pupils dilating with a single thought about him.

Feelings were a dangerous phenomena.

You didn't even notice when an innocent crush turned into something more, something that should exist only in fairy tales.

The worst thing? You didn't know how serious he was about you.

He didn't pay attention to anyone other than you, even going as far as to be straight up mean at any allusion made by others about wanting him.

But he never as much as glanced at you with the disgust he looked at others with, every time his gaze fell onto you something soft, something warm replaced the usual cold and cool.

Was that enough of a reason to allow yourself to fall in love?

Probably not, but the poems and stories you read before falling asleep made you a hopeless romantic, looking for someone able to sprout a seed of creativity in you simply by existing.

And he not only planted that seed, he made it grow into a tree full of flowers and fruits, bringing you thousands of ideas everyday.

You knew that it could hurt, the realization that maybe he was never interested in you at all would be a painful cut to your heart, turning millions of colorful butterflies living in you into moths.

You prayed for that day to never come.

You prayed for your tree to never wither.

Another day at university ended, people gathered their things, about to go on with their day, class emptying by the second.

But you stayed behind.

The professor who led the lecture left together with the students, something you haven't really noticed, too busy with drawing in your sketchbook, head in the clouds.

Inspiration came to you randomly, at first you were just bored with the discussed topic so innocently you began scribbling, making random lines that suddenly stopped being so random, your hands working their magic before your mind could keep up.

And suddenly the body on the page got a face.

Rafayel.

The figure not leaving your mind ever since you admitted to yourself you liked him.

You lifted your head for a moment, you were about to draw some details...

Noticing no one in the classroom anymore you breathed out in relief, no one saw what you were up to.

There are no more lectures for the day in here...

And you knew that no one would close you inside, as the cleaning staff always checks to make sure no one stays behind, having certain accidents before...

Taking out your earphones you made your decision. And the next half an hour flew by fast.

You were so detached from reality you didn't even notice the door behind you opening up, nor did you hear the slow footsteps coming your way.

Neither did you feel someone's presence right behind you...

And maybe that's for the better.

Since Rafayel doesn't know what would he do if you would randomly turn around and face him... After seeing what you drew.

Peeking over your shoulder his breath hitched for a moment while he forced himself to stay still and not disturb you.

You were drawing him.

Not only him, but... Naked him...

He felt his pants growing tighter with each second, every brush of your pencil on the paper making his head spin.

His heart couldn't take it. His dick couldn't take it.

Unable to face you after a discovery like this he turned around and without making a noise left the classroom.

It was too early... His plan was in ruins.

He was supposed to give you years to notice him.

Years before he would dare to touch you.

But oh my God, why did you have to make it so hard?

Making him pop a boner way too often and way too easily.

You were turning him into some pervert, which he was not. He wanted you for so much more than just your body, yearning for your soul and heart like a madman.

But the bedroom eyes you looked at him with, the slight ‘accidental’ touches you graced him with, your drawing, the way you pressed your ass against him in a classroom full of people...

You were playing a dangerous game, and despite not wanting to come out on the losing side, would he really lose if he'd gain something so precious in return?

What if you only wanted to fuck him? Use him? Go on and spread rumors about the professor being a pervert liking his student?

Would you really do him so dirty?

Walking through the hall at the lighting speed he finally made it to his office, walking inside he locked the door immediately, almost running to his chair with heavy breathing.

Losing up his collar he rested his head on the headrest of his office chair, closing his eyes while he tried to calm down.

You shouldn't have such influence on him, power over him.

But beneath his closed eyelids he saw only more of you, your silhouette, your face, your smile, those fake-innocent eyes, because you both knew you looked at him with anything but pure intentions.

And for whatever sick reason; he liked it, craved you, needed you.

No one else ever had him in their grasp, Rafayel from always being the one holding all the cards suddenly reduced to a pathetic horny man.

He loved and hated the feeling.

Knowing fully well you could use him and toss him aside like a trash bag after you're done.

But would you really? Would you ever break his heart like this?

Fuck he couldn't take it anymore.

Unable to stop himself he reached towards his belt unbuckling it hurriedly and unzipping his fly in a record time before finally taking out his cock.

Fuck he was sensitive, each vein pulsating, tip leaking precum simply because he couldn't keep his imagination in check.

Wrapping his palm around his length he began slowly pumping himself. His mind creating images of you he wished to see in person.

You on top of him, hands grasping onto his shoulder as you ride him, using him for your pleasure.

Oh fuck his hand began moving faster.

You would probably sound so pretty too, would you moan loudly or whine quietly into his ear?

Were you shameless with showing off your body or would you prefer to keep your clothes on?

He let out a moan at the thought.

Would you like it fast? Or maybe preferred the moment to be something sensual and gentle?

He would do anything for you, exactly how you'd like it.

His hand increased the tempo, wet sound filling the quiet study.

Fuck he was close.

Would you let him look into your eyes as you come? Would you shy away? You had no reason to, perfection in his eyes.

He would worship the ground you walked on, kneel before you, begged for you, he would do it all.

Would you prefer him to be in charge, acting like a little brat just to get a rinse out of him, wanting him to take it out on your pussy?

Would you be submissive? Accepting his everything, even if the overstimulation brought you to tears? Would you like him to call you his good girl?

His girl...

Back arched slightly from the chair, mouth opening to let out a silent moan, dick throbbing in his hand.

In seconds his entire palm was covered in sperm, together with the floor and a little bit landing on his shirt and pants, dirtying it.

Fuck he didn't remember the last time he came that hard, most of the days he forget that sex was even a thing, focused on his art, but ever since you came back into his life? This guy couldn't catch a break from the image of you naked underneath - or on top of him.

You were hunting him day and night, even in dreams.

And you were unaware of the effect you had on him, blissfully ignorant.

Cute. Really.

He took a minute to catch his breath, orgasm pulling all the energy from him, finally coming back to his self he couldn't help but came back to the situation that got him like this in the first place.

You were drawing him nude.

The very next day you had yet another lecture with your favorite professor.

Right after waking up you reminded yourself of a secret hidden inside of your sketchbook.

Memories of the lines you made with your pencil yesterday bringing instant heat to your cheeks.

Just what has gotten into you?

Why did you do this?

Also another, more important question: how the hell could you draw all of the details on his body just from memory that never existed?!

Unable to keep thinking about it without feeling the need to get yourself off you decided to finally get up and get ready for the day.

Starting a scavenger hunt in your closet you managed to put together a simple but cute outfit.

A tight white top on thin straps, no bra because you needed to keep your professor's eyes on you, and your boobs are going to be a great help in achieving that. Next was a white flowy skirt made from uneven scraps of silky material with a slit on your right thigh, perfectly fitting an artistic soul so to say. You added some cute white fishnets with a pretty design on their sides and put on a pair of white platform heels with ankle straps.

Looking at yourself in the mirror you couldn't help but feel pretty (author's note: because you all are pretty ♡).

Today will be another painting session, focused on abstraction, colors, and putting your feelings onto canvas.

A perfect setting for some chaos.

After your morning routine you finally made your way to the university, the place where you first came to continue your artistic journey and now are more focused with pinning after your professor than the actual studying.

Oh well, priorities I guess?

First lectures proved to be annoyingly boring, honestly some professors could think about changing the profession, cause what they were doing now was not going well, one of them didn't even seem like he knew what he talked about?

You had a little free time before Rafayel's lecture, Soraya and Angela used it to steal you from the main hall to find a private place to talk about very important matters.

Like literally steal you; they randomly walked over to you, hiked their arms under yours and dragged you with them, not explaining anything, stopping only when you made it to a more quiet location in the abandoned wing of the university where most people came only to deal drugs and other shit.

“How's your mission going?” They sat you down onto a bench and stood over you with their arms crossed, interrogating you.

“A mission?” You played dumb.

“Yes, a mission.”

“Called ‘fuck your professor before another bitch finds herself on him’.” Soraya added after her girlfriend.

“Quieter!” You reacted instantly.

Angie bended down to your eye level. “Not until you tell us your progress!”

“There's no ‘progress’.” You didn't back off.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes before she finally exhaled and moved away.

“Whyyy, from what 'Raya is telling me you basically eye-fuck him any change you get!” She lightly jumped in frustration, cute, really.

“Well it didn't go further than eye-fucking, sorry to disappoint you.” You send a disappointment glare at Soraya who only chuckled in response.

“Alright, angel, we really have to go to the lecture right now, I'll catch you later.” She kissed her girlfriend's forehead affectionately before taking your hand and urging you to stand up.

“See ya, just let me know later how's the situation~” Angela teased, to which you only sent her a death glare and turned around to leave with your classmate.

“You two won't let me off the hook huh?” You asked her on your way.

“Nope. But don't think so low of us, we are rooting for you to catch this man and steal him from all of those idiots here, it will be hilarious knowing that you're together while everyone continues to send him dreamy eyes.” She chuckled and you didn't know whether you should sigh or laugh.

A minute later you found yourself in the classroom, taking your usual spots you waited for the rest of the students and the professor himself to join in.

In the meantime you shared a look with Soraya more than once and each time she sent you a glare that could only be described as ‘get to work bitch’ to which you responded by rolling your eyes.

“Alright everyone.” You turn around to face the door at the familiar voice and sure enough your eyes meet the man who made your heartbeat race.

Class quietened down instantly, all eyes turning to him.

“Today we have another painting session, your favorite I know.” He walked over to his desk, opening up some papers and rummaging through them. “Now if I'm being honest, there is no final effect we're aiming for today. I want you to have fun with it, let your emotion onto the canvas, play with colors, tell stories through colorful spots on the paper if that's what you want to do.“ He looked up from the stack of papers, his gaze instantly falling to you. “Unleash the chaos.” He added before sitting down and returning his focus to his previous activity.

You glanced over at Soraya who was already watching you. ‘Stop it’ you mouthed to her to which she sent you a cheeky grin before turning her head towards her canvas.

The whole classroom stayed quiet for a bit longer, waiting for some more instruction from Rafayel, who didn't pay them any mind.

You were the first to move, picking out random paints and closing your senses to any third party stimuli, others followed not long after.

You didn't need to think about what you were doing, your hand holding the paintbrush smoothly moved around the canvas, creating something without any need to follow the image your mind usually made up first.

But the time spent between cleaning your brush and picking out another paint took too long, so without giving it any second thought you quickly wiped the paint on your skirt.

You heard some noises of disbelief coming from across the room, but you didn't even glance up at them, continuing with your work.

Soon enough one additional color on your white clothes was joined by others, a little blue here, pink there, green over here, but you still didn't care.

You wanted to be messy today, and where is it better to do that other than literal art classes?

You could feel the eyes turning to you every once in a while, people glancing up from their own works to watch the way your plain white outfit turned into canvas.

You also felt the way one specific pair of eyes stared into your back, knowing fully well who watched you most attentively.

But you won't give him the pleasure of your attention, he needs to try harder for that.

You didn't know how much time had passed, an hour? Maybe two? But you heard some people already walking out of the class quietly, finishing earlier than others as today's project took them less than the three whole hours you had the classroom available for.

At some point you dodged the paintbrush, settling for your fingers. It wasn't that long until your shirt began matching your skirt, followed by your hands and neck, a little color also found itself on your fishnets.

Too busy in your dreamland you didn't notice Soraya, who was already finished with her piece, taking out her phone and shooting you a couple pictures from the side before gathering her things and leaving.

You could hear footsteps echoing through the hall countless times, the only knowledge about the classroom emptying you got, since you didn't bother to actually look around and see who's left.

You didn't even notice how all noises around you fell completely silent, leaving only your gentle breathing and the sound of your fingers brushing the canvas.

Suddenly you noticed a hand slowly emerging from behind you, reaching for your stained with paint palm, turning it upwards.

You didn't need to look behind you to know whose chest was currently pressed against your back.

“Beautiful.” Was he speaking about your painting or..?

His hand slowly moved from your palm to your wrist, up to your elbow, his fingers leaving a purple trace on their way. You took a quick peek around, not a single person other than you two were left in the room.

His nose grazed your neck, you let out a shaky breath at the faint touch.

“I knew you'll do well today, but you exceeded my wildest expectations.” He whispered against your skin, his breath tickling your hot skin.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed, blush meeting the tips of your ears, but you didn't want to pull away, despite the fact that you didn't even know him that well you felt comfortable being so close to him, fitting against his body like a glove.

Suddenly you felt something warm and wet on your skin, letting out involuntary moan you reached your hand towards his face, currently busy with planting kisses against your skin.

You didn't care about your fingers dirtying his perfect face, he'll live.

And neither did he, too busy with finally being able to be this close to you.

Your head tilted backwards to his shoulder, your eyes fell closed as your hand found its way to his hair grabbing a handful to at least try and steady yourself while his mouth continued exploring all around your neck with hot kisses.

His arms embraced your waist tightly, holding you even closer to himself, your free hand grasped his wrist.

“You have no idea...” He whispered against your skin. “How much I wanted you.”

His hand which you weren't holding onto wandered to your chin, turning your face to him.

“Everyday I could only look at you but never touch, it was a torture.”

He took a moment to gaze into your drunk-like eyes before his lips crashed into yours, taking away your ability to breath.

Your fingers pulled at his hair before traveling lower to his neck, not letting him move away.

When did innocent stolen glances turn into this?

His teeth nipped your lip, forcing out a moan out of you and your mouth falling open slightly, giving him a perfect opportunity to push his tongue inside.

You didn't notice when his hand left your chin, too busy making out to allow your thoughts to linger.

That was until you felt something cold caressing your nipple through the thin shirt.

You broke the kiss, allowing yourself a moment to breathe and looked down.

His dipped in blue paint hand brushed your hardened nipple before his palm cupped your breast, allowing his thumb to draw circles around the sensitive bud.

You let out a shaky breath and leaned your head back to his shoulder once again, your eyes traveling to his which were currently busy observing the way your body responded to his touch.

His tongue ran over his suddenly dry lips, wanting more than just to touch you.

Without giving you a moment of breather he bent down over your shoulder, both of his hands moving to your chest while yours were forced to stay on the stool next to your body, stabilizing you, one of his palms continued massaging your bud while the other lifted your second boob to his awaiting mouth.

You let out a whine at his mouth sucking your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet patch behind, your back arched pressing your chest straight into his passionate touch.

You become hyper aware of the wetness pooling out of you, your legs clenching involuntarily.

The now wet material of your shirt clung to your breast like second skin, your erected bud perfectly visible through the fabric.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer Rafayel moved his hand to pull the material down, exposing your pretty breasts to the cool air of the room.

Your shirt straps fell down your shoulders as your shirt held onto your stomach.

Moving a little bit away from you, Rafayel watched the way your chest rose up with each breath you took, but something was missing.

His eyes fell towards the pink paint not too far away from him, dipping his fingers in it before he returned his attention to you.

His fingers gently met your skin again. He savoured the way you arched your back as the cold substance touched your burning skin.

He watched mesmerized as your skin slowly turned into his personal art piece. But his patience proved to be rather thin when it came to you, as he couldn't keep his focus on being slow and gentle with you while your body begged for his attention.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked in a raspy voice, not giving you the time to answer as his mouth returned to your now bared breast.

The explosion of sensations made your entire body tremble slightly, your hand shot up to his head, hugging him closer to yourself. “Ah... Y-yes-” Your shaky, quiet voice pleasured his eardrums. “Please, Rafayel... More.” You whispered as his tongue slipped out from his mouth to lick your now damp nipple.

“More?” He asked, not moving his mouth away from you, his hot breath caressed your skin. “You want more?” He sucked hard on your bud, pulling your entire breast up as his hand left it without support, traveling down your body, stopping on your lower stomach. “Do you need me here, cutie?” He let go of your breast with a plop, resulting in it jumping up a bit before settling in its place, the other still gently massaged by his other palm.

“Yes, please.” You whispered into his ear, opening up your legs as an invitation.

He felt his dick throb at the view.

The slit on your skirt exposed your thigh, giving him a perfect opportunity to sink his hand under the material.

Which he did.

His palm without rush traveled your entire exposed thigh before slowly moving his hand back up, this time; under the previously clean, white material.

Your hips moved impatiently to which he responded by squeezing your breast as a warning.

Your eyes rose up from his hand disappearing under your skirt to his face, he was already looking at you.

Keeping the eye contact you moved your hand to caress his ear while leaning on your other one still planted against the wooden surface of the seat, slowly from his ear you moved it to his neck once again, bringing his face closer.

“Please.” You breathed out a millimeter away from his lips, a second later catching them in a kiss. His hand squeezed your chest once again at the unexpected affection before he let himself drown in it.

It was weirdly sweet and gentle compared to the situation you were currently in, but he didn't change the tempo, leaving it soft and not rushing.

But his hand was much more wicked than his mouth, as with one sharp move he ripped the material of your fishnets right at your opening, you only managed to let out a surprised gasp that he swallowed.

His palm touched your pussy through the soaked material of your underwear, you parted your lips in a silent whine but didn't pull back from him, at least not before he applied preasure right at your clit.

Letting out a moan you bit your lip, remembering where you were, but there was no way in hell you'll be stopping him now.

His palm left your breast to fully wrap his arm under your chest, holding you close to him as his other hand began slowly moving in circles around your sensitive bud.

You let your face fall to his chest, his chin planted on the top of your head while you listened to his quicken heartbeat.

Unrushed, his fingers moved the wet material to the side and despite not being able to see you with your skirt in the way he still managed to find all your weak spots just by the sense of touch.

“Raf...” You whispered into his crumpled shirt as his fingers gently explored your slit without the fabric in the way.

“I know baby, don't worry, I got you.” He gave your forehead a soft kiss before dipping his finger into you without any warning.

You let out a quiet cry, tugging at his shirt.

You were so wet and relaxed he was able to pull his digit all the way in without any problems.

Slowly he began moving it inside you, listening to the squelching noise your pussy made with his every move.

“Shh, keep quiet for me.” He cooed into your ear before a second finger went inside you.

You clung to him like to a salvation, while he continued pleasuring you.

His fingers speed up their movements, more wet sounds filled the quiet and empty classroom.

You wanted to moan loudly, but forced yourself to bite your lip and take it silently.

“Good girl.” He praised noticing your struggles, his fingers speed up again while his thumb focused on your swollen clit.

Your mouth opened in response to the stimulation he put you through, eyes closing in delight as you felt your stomach clenching.

“I'm-” You tried to warn him to which he responded by quickening his pace even more, abusing that spongy spot inside you. “Clo- fuck- close!” You cried out, holding onto him tightly.

“Let go for me, princess.” He said and you couldn't hold it any longer, falling apart in his hands, going limp as he held you.

The sensation shot through your entire body, his fingers slowed down their abuse before gently retreating from your cunt.

Oh fuck that was the most intense orgasm you ever had.

Rafayel continued holding you while you slowly came back to yourself, breathing hard.

Just then you reminded yourself that you didn't think about his pleasure at all, you opened your eyes while your palm slowly moved down towards the tent in his pants. But before you could have squeezed his length through the material of his pants his hand came to stop you, grasping onto your wrist and pulling your palm away from his hard dick.

“Not today, princess.” He smiled at you, totally innocent as if his other hand wasn't still under your skirt.

Speak of the devil; as in the same moment he moved his palm from under your clothes and moved it up to his mouth.

You watched with widened eyes as he put his soaked by you digits into his mouth, testing you like he would savour an expensive dish.

You felt even more wetness leaking out of you at the view.

“Delicious.” He smiled again, unbothered by your surprise as he pulled you in for another kiss, you could taste yourself on his mouth as you got lost in the sensation once again.

The moment you pulled away you finally reminded yourself what you just did.

“Holy fu- We just...” You breathed out, looking at yourself in disbelief.

“We just had some fun together, well earned fun, might I add.” He said casually, caressing your cheek gently.

His eyes fell down for a moment, widening slightly at the sight of your bare breasts, full of love bites and paint. His dick won't go to sleep anytime soon, that's for sure.

He took a good while to take you in. Your hair didn't look messy, but still didn't look very fresh either, your top still rested on your stomach with the straps holding onto your elbows, waiting to be pulled up again, your skirt was full of colors placed there by you yourself through the lecture, now maybe your fishnets didn't look broken, however that was only because the rip was hidden behind your skirt, together with your soaked panties which were probably still planted to a side, right where he left them.

He felt his face heating up, you looked like a walking sinful masterpiece.

His masterpiece.

“Your clothes are dirty because of me.” He followed your gaze down to take a look at himself, and sure enough he noticed random patches of paint every here and there, but he didn't care.

“It's okay, I have spare ones in my office anyway.” He calmed you down.

Noticing how suddenly you saddened up he began worrying that maybe he overstepped, maybe it was too early for this step, maybe-

But you silenced his panicked mind with a simple hug.

He took a second to reciprocate, surprised by your affection.

You looked fragile in his arms, as if the whole confidence from an hour ago has left you.

He got worried that maybe he really did something wrong.

“We shouldn't have.” You said gently into his neck, not pulling back.

“We shouldn't.” He agreed.

“Do you regret it?” Your voice broke, as if you wanted to cry.

“No.” He answered instantly, not a hint of hesitation. “Do you?” You shook your head.

Pulling back from him you fixed your shirt to hide your chest, the material didn't lay on you as good as it did before but it had to do for now.

“You're my professor.” You looked into his eyes, he looked at you with worry plastered on his face, nodding his head gently. “No one can know.” You said and stoop up from your seat on shaky legs.

Instantly his hand caught your waist to stabilize you, to which you responded with a grateful smile.

“It will be our secret.” You said while not moving away from him just yet. He nodded once again, too stunned to speak, you didn't just turn around and leave him alone after you got what you wanted?

You smiled at him again, looking like an angel in his eyes.

Pulling even closer to him you gave him one more kiss, savouring the feeling for later.

And then finally you turned around gathering your things slowly.

You heard him walking away, but didn't glanced back at him, a sound of a key turning in the lock broke the silence. You reached under your skirt to fix your panties, which didn't feel comfortable as of now at all.

But then when you picked up your bag from the floor you felt something dropping onto your shoulders.

His cardigan.

You looked behind you while holding the edges of his sweater together.

Without any words he simply kissed you once again, putting all his feelings into that one, last peck.

Pulling apart felt like a crime, but you had to.

“Have a good day, professor.” You turned around and moved away, glancing one last time over your shoulder before going through the door.

Luckily there wasn't anyone on your way through the university's hallway as most people already finished with their lectures for today.

You walked out of the building and took a very much needed breath of fresh air.

Your mind worked overtime, what will happen after today?

Will he act like he didn't do anything?

No, there's no way he will, right..?

Your legs still felt like jelly and with every step you took you could feel the way your abdomen squeezed in uncomfortable motion. Your long and hurried steps didn't help it, as you wanted to make it home as soon as you could.

You needed your bed, or a bath, preferably both.

You picked out your phone to check the time, noticing that it was an hour after your usual lecture ending time.

Next thing you noticed were notifications from social media and your group chat with Sora and Angie.

The Normal One

[5 images send]

if our professor won't tap that I know people who would

The images were you during the lecture, specifically you sitting and focusing on your painting, outfit dirty from paints, not caring about the world even a bit.

You had to admit you looked hot.

Horny Demon

IM GIVING HIM ONE WEEK MAX BEFORE HE WILL LOSE HIS CHANCE

The Normal one

sure, we both know that you just don't want to lose our bet

Horny Demon

I NEED THAT ICE CREAM U PROMISED OKAY?

Anyways where the hell is our teacher s pet?

@.Professor's Princess wake the fuck up

The Normal One

the lecture should have ended like 30 minutes ago

Horny Demon

SUS

The Normal One

why?

Horny Demon

DID SHE FINALLY FUCKED HIM???

The Normal One

hell nah... I think

Horny Demon

@.Professor's Princess @.Professor's Princess @.Professor's Princess

IF YOU WONT ANSWER IN THE NEXT 5 MINUTES IM CHANGING YOUR NAME TO PROFESSOR S SLUT

The Normal One

lmao even threats started

Horny Demon

I NEED TO KNOW!!!

The Normal One

let me just tell u that if she actually does fuck a professor rn u won't know until later, so be patient baby ❤️

Horny Demon

Fu

The Normal One

is that a proposition?

Horny Demon

:*

The last text was from 10 minutes ago. You ran your fingers through your hair and took a moment to gather your thoughts before answering.

Professor's Princess

I'm here

Instantly you saw the ‘viewed by...’ under your message.

Horny Demon

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN YOUNG LADY?

Professor's Princess

Guess :p

Horny Demon

OH YOU SO WERE WITH UR HOT PROFESSOR

The Normal One

you don't respond to my messages that fast lmao

Professor's Princess

10 points to Hufflepuff 👏

Horny Demon

OH MY GOD???

The Normal One

ain no fucking way.

Horny Demon

YOU FUCKD HIM?!!!

Professor's Princess

not yet ;)

Horny Demon

???

ARE U HOME YET???

Professor's Princess

Getting there

Horny Demon

CALL US THE MOMENT YOULL WALK THROUGH THE DOOR WE HAVE A URGENT TOPIC TO DISCUSS!

Professor's Princess

yes, ma'am

The phonecall lasted an hour, at some point you were making yourself food in your underwear while talking to them about what happened, too lazy to put on fresh clothes.

Their reactions to the knowledge about the Rafayel finger fucking you in his classroom were absolutely priceless.

Angela screamed and dropped her phone, running around her apartment like crazy (luckily her roommate wasn't home), while Soraya opened up her camera just to show you her shocked expression that lasted 2 minutes before she started laughing so much she couldn't breathe.

Once again they promised not to tell anyone your secret, teasing you for seducing your professor for the whole hour after which you finally said goodbye.

You sat down on the couch with your food, turning on the TV on some random channel to entertain yourself during your dining.

The feeling of his fingers working deep inside you didn't leave your memory for even a second. Holy shit you actually did it.

Glancing at the carelessly thrown onto the floor clothes you felt your cheeks heat up.

He made you feel so good, so comfortable... As if you knew him for much longer than two and half months, as if your body recognized him, craved him the way your mind did.

For whatever reason you believed that he won't hurt you, won't break your heart, instead treating it like his dearest treasure.

Your eyes moved to your half finished dinner before turning to the TV screen where main characters currently confessed their love to each other in some depressive settings.

Then you looked down onto yourself.

A random loose t-shirt thrown onto your bare upper body hiding the material of your underwear almost perfectly. Of course it was fresh underwear, the other one felt too uncomfortable after your juices completely drowned it...

You moved to lay on your back, knees up, opening your legs slightly.

Your hand moved down to caress your clit through your panties...

You didn't know why but the sudden need for relief was too hard to resist. Closing up your eyelids you reminded yourself of the way his body pressed into you through the fabrics of your clothes, the way his hard length, that you didn't have time to play with, felt, the way his eyes gazed into yours, watching you attentively as you surrendered to the pleasure he graced you with.

Your fingers slipped under the damp material, you let out a shaky moan.

“Rafayel...” You whispered into the night.

Unknowingly to you: your little fun disrupted someone's attempts at painting...

With each second of your body falling deeper into the pleasure he could feel it in his whole body, his mind clouding with memories of your sounds and expressions, your painted body showing before his eyes each time they fell closed.

Oh how much he would give to be next to you right now...

But he had to settle for less as of now.

His hand traveled past the waistband of his loose pants, his vivid imagination showing him sinful images of what could have happened if you were next to him right now.

And together but separately you chased after the pleasure, calling out each other's names into the nothingness as you let yourself go, wanting only one thing.

To cross all boundaries.

“I heard bitches from my class talking about your man like they were dogs in heat.” Angela complained while sitting next to you and Soraya.

All three of you had some free time before the next lectures and decided to kill some time in the academy cafeteria.

“My man?” You raised your eyebrows in confusion.

“Your future man if you want to focus on the details, which we don't do, cause he's your man already in my eyes.” She added, looking at you like you just insulted her entire family.

You nodded slowly, picking up your drink to run away from the topic.

“I swear I'm this close to closing you and him in some empty room just to force you to talk about your feelings.” Yeah, she wasn't about to drop it.

“Our feelings? How do you know how he feels about me, he might as well just be playing around.” You voiced your concerns out loud, even though you tried not to think about that possibility.

“Girl, are we deadass right now?” Oh she was mad...

“Honestly if he was just playing with you as you said, he wouldn't get you off and treat you like a porcelain while not letting you touch him at all to return the favor.” Soraya finally spoke up. “Guys think with their dicks, if he didn't feel anything towards you be wouldn't act like... That.”

“How can you know how guys think? You have never dated one in your entire life.” You said jokingly, but honestly grateful for the reassurance.

“Are we for real right now? Who doesn't know how the male gender works?” She looked insulted, you chuckled at the sight.

“Anyways.” Once again you turned your head to Angela. “I'm sure that he likes you back. Really, from what you told us he seems crazy over you, dare I say.” Suddenly instead of a playful, mischievous spark you saw honesty in her eyes.

“I wish I could believe that, but really we haven't talked even once. It's all about stolen glances and touches away from prying eyes. I just wish he would tell me what am I to him, but really we have no way of even having this conversation.” We have no right to be, you thought.

”Oo-ooh...” You glanced at 'Raya, noticing her eyes focused on something in the distance, following her gaze you and Angela turned around.

Rafayel was standing in the entrance to the hall with his arms crossed... Looking straight at you...

“Someone's in trouble..?” Angela whispered to you, staring at your professor.

“I don't think so..?” You whispered back.

Noticing how your attention was finally on him he grinned slightly and turned around to leave. Suspiciously glancing back at you over his shoulder before disappearing.

“Go to him.” You looked over at your classmate, unsure. “Ain no way he was here by accident, looking at you like he wanted to eat you whole, run, girl, I think your talk is due.”

Not waiting for second thoughts to appear you stood up and fixed your dress, abandoning your almost finished lunch in the name of what you think was love...

“Be ready to buy me those ice cream.” Angie said, looking in the direction where you disappeared a second ago. She heard a snort coming from her girlfriend and smiled, hoping for the best for you.

Meanwhile you were busy chasing Rafayel's shadow while trying not to look too suspicious to the students you passed.

Damn this building was really huge, you remembered how many times you lost your way during your first year here.

Taking another turn you didn't see him in front of you anymore.

There were three corridors before you and no sight of Rafayel... Where could he go? It was a wing full of storage rooms, almost no one passed by here on accident.

Looking around you noticed one door on your right slightly ajar, soft light coming from the inside.

Unable to turn back now you slowly strolled towards the door, coming close enough to it you took one deep breath before reaching for the door handle and opening it wider without any rush.

First thing you noticed was a painting work place, canvas turned away from you, not letting you see what's on it, then your gaze moved to the side, a silhouette looked out of the window, as if oblivious to your presence.

For a moment longer you contemplated turning around and walking away, but then you heard his voice, “Leaving already?” And instantly you froze with a hand still holding onto the door handle.

You swallowed nervously, feeling a lump in your throat. “I didn't want to disturb you, professor, sorry.” Your voice sounded unsure, even though you tried your best to hide your stress.

It was easier when he made the first move...

You waited for him to say something, each second dragging like hours spent in the room without anything to do but think.

Noticing how he didn't move an inch, still facing away from you, you began feeling shy, as if all the things that happened between you weren't truly real, as if it was something completely made up by your mind.

You took a step back. “I should-”

“Don't go.” Finally his head turned your way, his eyes falling onto your hesitant form.

He looked... Sad?

You looked at each other for a moment, holding your breath as if letting it out would pop the bubble you created around yourself.

Then you finally took a step forward, then another one, closing the door behind you.

All the while keeping eye contact with the man of your dreams.

The silence lasted a while longer, either one of you not knowing how to start this conversation.

And when you finally opened up your mouth you noticed him walking towards you hurriedly.

“Professor-” His lips landed on yours, your bag fell to the ground.

You let out a high pinched squeak from the shock, instinctively trying to pull away but he didn't let you, his palms raised to your face, holding it sternly but without causing you any pain.

Your hands reached up to his elbows, grasping onto them to steady yourself, eyes falling close as you reciprocated the maddening kiss.

His lips moved against yours like there was no tomorrow, as if he needed you like air.

He took a step closer to your body making you stumble, your faces broke away from each other for a moment, “Rafa-” He didn't let you finish, instantly leaning in again to kiss you.

Your body met with the wall behind you, his palm fell to the back of your head to ensure you won't hit it too hard, his other hand reached behind you to lock the door with a key before returning to you, embracing your waist.

Your hands fell plain to his torso, you didn't know what was happening, all the stress from a minute ago seemingly disappearing, but the uncertainty stayed there.

You were busy making out for at least a couple of minutes, swallowing each other moans at the slightest touch of your bodies, but you had to finally break away from the kiss because of the need to breathe.

Turning your head to the side you let his lips fall to your cheek, both of you breathing heavily.

“I have another lecture to attend.” You said quietly, not really wanting to move away.

“I'll take care of that later, just stay with me.” He answered and you weren't going to argue.

You turned to face him once again, your bodies pressed together tightly, you could feel his penis hardening up against you, your cheeks heat up.

“We really shouldn't.” You said while looking into his eyes.

“Do you want to leave?”

You shook your head. “Hell no, I dreamed of you every day.” You confessed, watching his ears gain a pretty pink color.

“Then stay, and let me devour you.” His lips fell onto yours again, hands grabbing onto the material of your dress while his body continued pressing you into the wall.

Your arms embraced his neck, holding him tightly, the thought of him moving away unbearable.

“Please, professor.” You breathed out against his lips, unable to tear away from him. “Take care of me.” His hands slid down to your ass, grabbing it tightly before forcing you to jump onto him, your legs wrapped around his waist without a protest, the skirt of your dress rode up.

Making sure to keep you steady in his arms he walked over to his desk, not stopping his abuse on your mouth for a moment, his tongue meeting with yours.

One of his hands left you to throw off the things laying abandoned on his desk before sitting you down on it.

His hands began exploring your covered body, not letting an inch of your skin go untouched, from your back to your shoulder, stomach to chest, thighs down to your knees.

He wanted to imprint the way you felt into his mind, paint your image into the back of his eyelids to see you every time he closed his eyes.

He was drowning in your presence and didn't even want to look for saving, accepting his fate with open arms and heart.

His fingers digged into the skin of your thighs, your hips moved involuntarily, raising to meet his.

He let out a moan at the touch, the friction making his dick twitch in his pants.

Oh you were playing with fire and were not afraid to burn.

Your hands moved from his neck to his collar, hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt, the need to feel his bare hot skin too hard to resist.

You popped out the last button, palms instantly coming to touch him, caressing his soft skin roughly, you were dreaming about the moment you'll finally be able to touch him like this.

Fuck morality.

His palms moved back to your ass, bringing you to the edge of the desk and up to meet his hips.

Your lips moved in sync while you grinded onto each other like there's no tomorrow.

He pulled back from you just to drop his head to your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses on your skin, loud and wet.

You arched into his touch, not wanting to be separated from him for even a second, his fingers traveled under your dress, just like the last time - teasing you through your panties.

“You're already soaked.” He whispered into your skin, coming back to worshipping your neck right after.

You shamelessly rubbed against his fingers, seeking them out, needing them to touch your clit, to sink into you, touch you the way you needed.

Your palm wandered down to his pants, pressing against his hard on.

“Ah-” He moaned surprised, throbbing against your hand.

You began playing with his belt clasp, your mouth opening in a silent whimper when his hand started moving against you faster in response to your actions.

Not wanting to get a princess treatment like the last time you made a quick work with opening up his belt and letting it drop on the floor, unzipping his pants a second later.

But before you could slip your hand into his boxers, his fingers proved to be faster, moving beneath your panties to press against your bare clit.

You couldn't sustain your moan, hips moving up in a reflex, pressing into his palm.

His hand began drawing circles against you, sucking onto your collarbone hard enough to leave marks.

But you didn't let him have all the fun.

Your palms brought the material of his underwear down, exposing him to the cool air of the room.

He stood tall in your hand, precum glistening from the head, you could barely see it with his shoulder in the way of your vision.

But you didn't need to.

Tightening up your grip you began stroking him, feeling each vein pulse against your fingers.

You relished in the soft sounds he let out against your neck, his hot uneven breath tickled your skin.

And then he struck back.

Two of his fingers stretched you out, your thighs tensed up for a moment before letting go, your body accepting the intrusion.

You were so wet you didn't feel any pain or discomfort, that was the way he affected you.

Your hand began moving again in sync with his digits working inside you, he stopped with the kisses, but left his head pressed to your shoulder, needing to be close to you.

You pleasured each other, enjoying every sound made by your bodies, the way your cunt squelched with every move of his fingers, the way you could hear your hand working on his dick, the feeling of his precum smearing across him with every stroke, the way your hearts seemed to beat in sync, and the way your breaths heavier with each second.

Your head empty, leaving only the current moment to matter, nothing outside of this study worthy of your attention.

Suddenly his fingers thrusted into you surprisingly hard, staying knuckles deep in your cunt for a moment, as if taking in the feeling of your clenching walls, you let out a loud moan when they pressed into that one spot making you see stars.

Your palm gripped his dick in response, making him groan.

“I need you.” He panted under your ear, taking out his digits from your hole and taking a step back making you lose your grip on his manhood.

You looked at him questioningly, but didn't have time to voice your thoughts when he grabbed your hips making you stand up.

“Raf-?” He turned you around, making you bend over until your chest met the hard wood of his desk.

You looked over your shoulder, feeling him hitch the material of your dress up, letting it stay wrapped on your waist and moving your panties down, not even letting you step out of them when they fell to your ankles before his chest pressed against you.

You felt the head of his dick pressing against your clit before he used one hand to raise it up to your opening.

“Can I, princess?” He kissed your shoulder gently, using his hand to drag his penis up and down your slit, not daring to put it in without your permission.

You nodded your head hurriedly. “Please, professor, I waited for so long.” You let out, bracing yourself against his desk, preparing for what comes next.

“You're getting off to the thought of your professor fucking you? And here I thought you were more innocent, turns out you're a naughty girl huh?” You grinned to yourself at his teasing, close to letting out a giggle until you felt his head pushing in.

You opened your mouth in a silent moan, head falling down to lay on the hard surface as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Slowly he slid into you, inch by inch, your walls welcoming him in.

“Oh fuck-” You whispered when he pushed last inch in, fitting so well inside you.

You felt his hot breath on your back, his hands moving to grab onto your waist, holding you tightly.

He gave your skin one last affectionate kiss before starting to move, leaving your heat halfway before pushing in again, your body rocked with his thrust.

He didn't stop after that, slowly finding his rhythm.

Your hands gripped onto the edges of the desk, he felt so good, like you were meant to fit together,

“Please, faster.” You plead him, looking over your shoulder to meet his lust driven eyes.

“Oh? Is that not enough to satisfy you, princess?” Fuck, his unusually deep voice did things to you.

Feeling you clench at his comment he chuckled in a low tone, as if amused.

“Do you need something more like...” He gripped your waist tighter, fingers digging into your skin. “This?” He thrusted into you harshly, making the entire desk move. You cried out, arching your back.

He repeated the motion, this time moving his hips back until only the head remained inside you before sinking in deep, his balls hitting your clit.

You moaned at the stimulation, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you forever.

“Tell me, princess, do you like it hard, like this?” He began thrusting again, his tempo increased, not acting gentle now in the slightest, taking what he wanted; what he knew you wanted.

You were like a doll in his arms, ready for him to do anything to you, you could take it.

His fingers took a grip on your hair, pulling your head back harshly, making you arch deeper.

“I asked,” He said right next to your ear, not stopping his hips for a moment. “Do you like it?”

“Yes-” You tried to make a sentence but he sped up the tempo at the same time you let out a word, “Fuck- yes, professor! Please fuck me hard!” You nearly screamed, forgetting where you are.

“Good girl.” He praised, fixing his angle to penetrate you deeper, hitting all your weak spots. You felt your mind go dumb, pussy clenching around him at his words. “I'll give you what you want.” He straightened up, letting go of your hair.

He gripped your waist and hips, his length restlessly moving in you, not giving you a second to breath.

Oh fuck he hit so deep-

You felt your orgasm begging to build, walls involuntarily tightening up around him.

You heard the prettiest, nastiest moan leaving him the moment he felt you clench around him.

His hand left your waist to move to your clit, pressing and caressing it roughly.

You choked on your scream, feet moving to stand on your toes.

You didn't know whether you tried to move your hips back against him, allowing him to hit your sensitive spots even easier, or pull away from his dick at the overwhelming sensation.

“You gonna come for me?” He asked, almost out of breath, feeling close himself, but not wanting to reach his peak before you.

You nodded your head weakly, hips thrusting back against his rapidly, pleasure consuming you.

Wet sounds of sex echoed from the walls, massaging your eardrums in the best way.

“Rafayel-” You let out a yelp, his hand working against you, guiding you to the pleasure you didn't know before.

“Come for me, princess.” Fuck you couldn't take it anymore.

Your pussy clenched around him as if wanting to keep him there forever, hands bracing against the desk to keep you from hitting your head, legs shaking.

You let out a pornographic moan, riding out your intense orgasm.

You wanted this for so long.

Despite the hand from your clit going missing he didn't stop his abusing thrusts, desperate to reach his peak, overstimulating you. “Professor-” You let out weakly, arm reaching behind you to press against his stomach.

“You can take some more, can't you?” He whispered, lost in his pleasure.

You moaned in protest, not sure whether you could handle him for much longer without a break.

He gave you one hard thrust before going still for a moment, balls deep inside you.

You thought he stopped for good, but then he reached for your leg, moving it up until your knee touched the surface of the desk, your panties laying flat on the floor around your other feet.

“Just a little more, baby.” He said, grabbing your ass and looking at the way your pussy stretched out around him.

Then he began moving again, instantly going fast.

You moaned, tears swelling in your eyes at the overstimulation, but you can take it; for him.

“Fuck, your cunt feels so good.” He whispered with invisible to you hearts in his eyes.

You stayed obedient, taking what he gives you, needing his release like you needed painting: necessary for the peace of your soul.

“I'm close-” He moaned out, losing his rhythm.

“Come inside, please!” You begged, looking over your shoulder with pleading eyes.

He looked uncertain.

“I'm on the pill, please, give it to me, Rafayel.” You grabbed the shirt that stayed on his shoulders this entire time, not allowing him to move away from you.

That argument seemed to work, because in a second he reached for your hand, clasping it with his own while the other embraced you tightly, pulling you to him.

“I'll give my everything to you, princess. You don't even need to ask.” He pulled up his hand from your waist to your chin, making your head tilt to the side, swallowing your moans in a kiss.

And then; he came.

Stopping his movements inside you with his dick filling you up to the fullest, throbbing while his cum shot into you.

You moaned into the kiss, both of you hungry for each other, open mouths moving against one another with full intention of sucking the other's soul out.

He pulled away to breath, his forehead meeting with yours, eyes closing when he came back from his high.

It took him a moment, but he had to finally pull out his softening dick from your warm and comfortable walls.

His cum leaked from you the moment he pulled out, he almost got hard again at the view, but he couldn't let himself go that far just yet, he needed to take care of you first.

He pulled up his underwear and pants in a rush, you stayed in the same position he left you in, trying to get your breathing to steady.

He pulled your leg down from the desk, holding your waist to make sure you won't fall when standing up, one of his hands moved to help you raise your other leg up, letting your panties fall to the floor completely.

He moved to his desk chair, holding you tightly and making you take a step with him before he fell onto the seat, pulling you after him to sit on your side on his lap.

Your head fell to his shoulder, chest raising up and down rapidly, heartbeat still going crazy.

He hugged you tightly, letting you rest in him for as long as you'll need it. His palm reached to brush your hair from your resting face before falling once again to your back, caressing it softly.

“You were perfect.” He whispered into your hair, planting a sweet kiss on your head, hearing your content sigh at the gesture.

He noticed you opening up your suddenly heavy eyes, gazing up at him.

“Hm?” He looked right back at you with a small smile.

Your hand moved up, touching his cheek gently and bringing his face to yours, your lips meet in a soft kiss, the simple affection providing comfort to the both of you.

You didn't know yet what that meant to your relationship, but one thing was obvious:

There's no way you'll let each other go separate ways after that.

Your kiss broke, your head falling into the crain of his neck as you cuddled.

Your eyes opened lazily to take in your surroundings, something you didn't have time to focus on before.

The walls were in a cold blue tone, floor and the furniture in dark brown, ceiling plain white.

It wasn't much, but it felt cozy, despite the melancholic feeling it brought you.

Then your eyes picked at something you saw earlier, but from a different angle.

The canvas you noticed before bears an unfinished painting of a female silhouette in a white dress sitting on the road, drawn from her back, she watched an ocean that spread in the distance, between the trees on the sides looking like they opened up before her to show her the view.

Beautiful, like each work of Rafayel's.

You didn't linger on who might be the woman in his painting, too tired to think.

“Tired?” He asked as if reading your mind. You nodded into his chest, not wanting to move an inch away from his embrace.

A moment of silence followed before he spoke up again.

“I need to get you home.”

“Already?” You murmured, still not moving.

“Everyone's in lecture right now, it'll be easy to sneak off through the side entrance.” He explained with a chuckle at your behavior.

“Yhym, okay...” You agreed, still not moving-

He chuckled once again, standing up with you in his arms and placing you back onto the chair, without him under you for support.

You opened up your eyes again to send him a questioning glance, but he didn't take notice of it, walking over to the other side of the room and opening up one of the shelves.

You watched as he picked a folded black fabric and began taking off his pants.

Your eyes widened but you didn't turn around, taking in the sight of his legs...

“It's not nice to stare, you know.” Looking up you noticed that he was watching you with a smirk.

You blushed a little but also grinned slightly.

“I'm just enjoying the show,” You said to which he only shook his head and unfolded what turned out to be a fresh pair of pants, putting them on. “Why are you changing?”

He looked over at you with an even bigger smirk. “Because someone's pussy left stains that would look too suspicious for others.” He watched as you suddenly got shy, hiding your face in your knees. Cute.

Laughing he buttoned up his shirt, leaving the last two buttons open, then he picked up another fabric from the shelf before closing it and moving back to you.

You felt his arm embracing you and pulling you up to stand which you did without a protest.

The uncomfortable feeling in your legs and stomach was back, you let out a sigh before you could stop it.

“It's okay. I'm here.” He said while holding you tightly to his body, comforting you when you didn't even know you needed it.

You felt his hands traveling past your waist to your sides, his fingers fixing the previously pulled up by him fabric to cover your ass again, you felt something soft wrapping around you a second after.

Glancing down you noticed he covered your legs with a blanket, wrapping it around your waist.

Without waiting for any comment he picked you up princess style, holding the fabric to your body together with your bag that he picked up from the floor a moment earlier.

Your hands came up to his neck immediately, sending him a questioning gaze.

“Hold tight and press your face to my shoulder.” He began walking to the door with you.

“What if someone recognizes me anyway?” You did as you were told anyway, not in the mood to be rational.

“There's no cameras on the path we'll take and everyone has lectures in a different wing, as you probably already know, besides: do you really think I care about this job enough to give a shit?” He unlocked the door, giving you a fake-hurt expression before focusing on walking down the quiet corridor.

You pressed your face tighter into him, enjoying the way he carried you in his arms, even if you should be scared half to death right now.

“It's really risky.” You mumbled, not really caring at this point.

“Not enough of a reason for me to let you walk back home on your own again, I already failed at taking care of you once, won't do it again.” You looked up at the side of his face, could you fall even deeper for this guy?

You squinted your eyes the moment you walked through the exit door, sunlight not sparing your eyeballs the pain.

He carried you all the way to his car before letting you down right before the passenger doors, fishing up the key from his packet that he picked up from the floor earlier after he threw off everything from the desk...

Clicking a button he heard the car unlocking, instantly he reached to open the door for you and make sure you and the blanket are both tugged inside before closing them.

He glanced around; no living being in sight.

Walking around the car he finally sat in the driver's seat, giving you your bag back.

He turned on the car and drove off in silence that stayed for longer, both of you comfortable just sitting in each other's presence.

You searched through your bag for your phone, finding it pretty fast you unlocked it to see whether you had any new messages.

There were a few not from the group chat, but from the private chat with Soraya.

Ray of Pessimism

some people in class asked why u disappeared, I said u threw up in the bathroom and went home, make sure to follow the sorry tomorrow or we're fucked

story* fcking autocorrect

btw i'm not sending it on groupchat cause apparently angie got some assholes in her next class that don't know what's privacy, she hid the chat but if we send smth there it will be visible again, so wait until she'll give u the greenlight to text there

after all we don't want u or ur hot professor in trouble, do we now

You giggled a bit, not caring about Rafayel's gaze turning to you curiously.

Me

Got it, and thank you, I'll make sure to stick to your story :p

ttyl

You put your phone back into your bag, gazing out of the window.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You turned back to Rafayel whose eyes were fixed on the road.

“Just thinking about... Us.” You exhaled, still not sure what to call the situation you found yourself in.

“What about us?”

“Just... What are we, and what we're supposed to do with this situation.” He glanced at you, not looking stressed in the slightest.

“What do you want us to be?” He asked, like the answer was the easier thing to say out loud.

“I'm... Not sure?” You said uncertainty, wishing for him to make the decision.

“Not sure huh? Because I think you're pretty sure, actually.” He stopped the car and got out of it a moment later, like he didn't just make your overthinking go wild.

The door to your side opened and only then you finally noticed that you were next to your place of living.

Wait, how did he know where you live-

He offered you his hand which you took, carefully exiting the vehicle on your still shaky legs.

He walked you over to the doorsteps, supporting you all the way to make sure you won't stumble and fall.

Right before your door you turned around to face him, unsure of what should be said.

Both of you stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other and thinking too much.

“I just-”

“I wanted to-”

You laughed at the accident, he smiled in return.

“Go first.” You said, he took a deep breath.

“I don't want to be just your professor. I can't do it, I want you too much to stay away.” He admitted, and for a moment you saw vulnerability on his face, something he didn't show often.

You glanced down at your feet for a moment before your eyes returned to his.

“Good, because I didn't intend for it to be just a one time thing.” You said honestly.

Taking a step forward you let your lips fall onto his once again, gentle, unhurried, taking in the moment.

None other part of you touched, letting your lips do the talking without words.

It took a minute or two before you pulled away.

You looked into his pretty eyes, taking in the blush that rose on his cheeks before finally turning around and unlocking your door with a fingerprint.

Opening them up you turned back around. “Wanna come in?” You grinned.

He moved forward before you could have asked a second time, and in the spasm of laughing and taking off your shoes you randomly reminded yourself about one small detail

“Wait, my panties stayed in your office?”

“Did you hear the rumors?” Angela heard from beside her the moment she took a seat in the lecture hall.

“What rumors?” The girl beside her was known for gossip, and despite not being one to believe in rumors easily Angie was still curious.

“Apparently the hottest professor to ever exist fucked someone yesterday, probably in the bathroom.” Angie looked at her classmate with distrust, she was a very good actor...

“How do you know that?”

“Someone saw from a window that he carried a woman to his car.” She said, excited for some reason.

“Damn, okay.” She was this close to taking out her phone and sending you a text about the rumor, but it had to wait for now.

“Do you understand what it means?” The girl continued, not taking a hint to drop it.

“What does it mean?” Girl shut up already, Angie begged in her head.

“If he fucked one student, then it means we have a chance too!” If eyes could kill, the stupid girl would be already laying underground.

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Angela turned around, signaling that she didn't want to continue that conversation and heard how the girl began talking about it with someone else a second later.

As if anyone would want to fuck you... She rolled her eyes at the thought.

In the meantime you and Soraya had a lecture with Rafayel, he was talking about something to do with the renaissance, complaining about too many things concerning that exact topic.

“He what..?” You heard whispers from all around you, glancing at 'Raya who sat beside you sent her a questioning glance which she reciprocated, also with no clue what was going on.

“... Fucked a student...” You overheard, and instantly you knew what this was about.

“No way...”

“Rafayel?”

“Who's the lucky girl?”

“I volunteer to be next!”

You glanced at your friend again, who sent you a smirk, raising her hand to her lips and zipping them with an invisible fly in the air.

You chuckled quietly.

“Yeah, who is it?” She whispered into your ear, making you shake harder while suppressing your giggle.

“One more whisper and I'm going to just leave.” You heard your lover's stern voice, instantly all eyes turned to him. “I'm already using my precious time to come here and teach you, when I could be painting instead, if you want a different professor that badly I can quit anytime, don't worry.”

You knew he would, yesterday he told you that he doesn't care if someone knows that he began a relationship with a student, you were both adults, and he really, really didn't care about this job.

He said he agreed to give lectures only because he was bored, and planned to quit after a year or so, which honestly sounded like him.

A couple people began protesting at the thought of him quitting, after all - many attended this class only because it was him and no one else.

An eye candy instead of a 40 year old misogynistic dude was rare enough, they couldn't let this one go.

“We apologize, professor, we were just talking that your partner must be so lucky to have you.” One girl teased, probably expecting instant dismissal from him at the idea of having someone, but to her and everyone's shock, he didn't drop the topic.

“It's the other way around, I'm the lucky one to have her.” He said like it was a well known fact?

Soraya's mouth dropped, looking at you with a smile that she tried to hide.

He turned around and stopped paying attention to the nosy people, continuing with his lecture.

Now: let's wait until the message will spread that he's taken, it will be funny to watch everyone trying to figure out who the mysterious partner is...

©alexrosa13 on tumblr

taglist @pozuki @animegamerfox

[love-quinn]

— COLLECTORS' GUIDE

summary — you love books, and spencer can't figure out why you don't have a single one inside your apartment. his only solution is, of course, to buy you some.

warnings — swearing, reader has a toxic ex

pairing — spencer agnew x fem!mythical reader

pronouns — none (you/yours)

featuring — spencer agnew, nicole enayati, vianai austin (mentioned), kiana parker (mentioned)

word count — 1.8k

note — as someone who LOVES mythical kitchen i've been toying around with the idea of spencer and someone from that show or even just mythical in general, also she was speaking to me she told me she's a bookworm i don't make the rules sorry. thank you so much for all the love on my last two spencer fics <333 hope you enjoy

LA’s a big city; it’s loud, it’s dirty, and it’s busy. Working in the industry you do, you don’t have a whole lot of calmness in your life, which is why you make it your personal mission to make your apartment as soft and cozy as possible. 

You pile your couch with throw blankets and pillows, you have lamps where you can control the brightness, you hang art on the walls and you love it there. You layer your rugs and you keep candles on every shelf. Your apartment is one hundred percent yours, and that’s the reason Spencer likes spending time there as much as he does. 

You and Spencer are a fairly new couple, you’ve only been together a few weeks, and he still can’t quite believe the two of you are together. You work in the Mythical side of the office as a producer and sometimes on-camera for Mythical Kitchen so the two of you see each other fairly often but not every single day.

He likes to think he knows you pretty well – he is your boyfriend. But one of his favorite parts about being in this relationship with you is getting to learn more about you. Neither of you are shooting anything today so he decides to drop by your desk during his lunch break. You’re on yours too, you and Nicole are chatting across your desks, you have half a wrap in one hand and a folded over paperback novel in the other and Spencer brightens at seeing you.

“Hi, babe,” he drops a kiss on your hairline, leaning over and peering at what you’re doing. “I was gonna see if you wanted to go for lunch with me but you seem to have it covered.” 

You tilt your head back to look him in the eye, face lighting up. “Hi! I didn’t know you were coming over here.”

He shrugs, leaning on the back of your chair. Nicole excuses herself to go meet Vi for lunch like they planned and offers Spencer her chair while she’s gone so he doesn’t have to hover. Spencer watches you smile up at her as she leaves and can’t stop the frown from making its way onto his face. 

“You’re not going with them?” From what he knew, the three of you were really good friends, at the very least close coworkers. Seeing Nicole talk about her plans with your mutual friend right in front of you without inviting you felt… not wrong, but definitely weird.

You just shake your head. “No, Thursdays I usually eat by myself, they go out somewhere.” You catch the look on Spencer’s face and amend yourself quickly. “They do invite me, I just prefer to eat my lunch at my desk, I can get a chapter or two in before they get back.”

Spencer looks down at the paperback in your hand again. “What’re you reading?”

You hold it up for him. It’s an older book, with frayed edges and a peeling vinyl cover, a grainy lighthouse on the front. He takes it when you offer it and flicks through it, careful not to disturb the bookmark. “I was gonna take it back to the library on Saturday and get a new one, but I can come over after that?”

Spencer shakes his head, only now just seeing the Los Angeles Public Library sticker on the back cover. “Can I come with you? Unless that’s like, something you wanna do by yourself or whatever? I didn’t know you went to the library.”

You take the book back and put it on your desk, out of the way. You and Spencer have wordlessly begun to split the wrap that you’d packed for lunch, something you’d made at home that made his mouth water. “Yeah, of course you can come. I go most weeks, I try to read a book every week but sometimes, y’know,” you gesture around the office.

That’s how Spencer finds himself on the steps of the LAPL for what he believes to be the first time. He’d been to libraries before, obviously, but not since leaving Florida, and not for a long time. He knows you like to read, there’s often a paperback in your hand or your purse or your car, it’s your quiet time activity. He just assumed you bought your own books, but getting to walk hand in hand with you through the stacks as you browse, he definitely sees the appeal. 

You find your new book of the week and hold it up to him gleefully, and you don’t even have to pull him along to the desk for him to follow you dutifully. Spencer would let you stay in there for hours, gazing lovingly over at you as you talk familiarly with the librarian. 

Eventually, you cut yourself off and excuse yourself to return to your boyfriend, knowing that his ideal weekend plans probably didn’t include letting you drag him around the library. You really like Spencer, you don’t want to hijack all of your time together. 

Spencer hasn’t even considered that. In fact, he is actively planning the next time that the two of you can come back, desperate to see you so happy again. Desperate to make you that happy. 

It becomes almost a routine. The two of you begin your weekend by going out for breakfast somewhere, Spencer follows you around the library and then the two of you go home and spend the rest of the day quietly in one of your apartments. Usually it involves him playing Zelda on the couch with your feet in his lap while you churn through your book.

You fold around each other comfortably. You have your separate friends, your separate jobs (well… technically separate), and your separate hobbies. But as the weeks turn into months, Spencer sinks right into your little oasis in your apartment. 

His clothes end up in your drawers, he starts going in to work with homemade meals that are obviously made by someone who graduated culinary school (i.e, not him). Love pours endlessly out of every crevice, and Spencer feels like he’s drowning in it. Spencer loves his apartment, it’s his home, but as somebody who also loves you he loves your apartment a lot as well.

It feels like every single time he goes over he finds out something new about you and the way you love, which is why he’s not quite so sure why it took him so long to notice the empty shelves in your room.

You’re on your phone, lying on your stomach with your feet by the head of the bed. Spencer is just coming back from the kitchen, your coffee order in his hand when he notices it. “Are you gonna put something on that shelf?”

You look up from your phone to see the shelf he’s gesturing to. Spencer can’t pretend not to notice the way that your face falls. “Uh, sure. I can if you want?”

Spence shrugs as he comes to sit down beside you. You wriggle up so you’re sitting and take the coffee out of his hand. “I don’t care, babe. It’s your room.” He plants a kiss on the side of your face and swiftly moves on. “I just remembered on Saturday I made plans with Kiana, so I’m gonna have to skip the library, I’m sorry.” He does seem genuinely sorry to be missing out on the time spent with you, you deflate subtly.

“That’s totally fine,” you return his kiss. “Tell her I say hi. I’m not done with my current one anyway, so I might just stay home.” You love the library, you spend a lot of time there, but you’re looking forward to a nice morning by yourself at home. Then, you remember the date and groan quietly under your breath. “Never mind, I have to go in to renew it anyway, or else I’ll get another late fee.”

You’d only ever returned a library book late once in your entire life, something that Spencer found completely adorable. Especially so the fact that you viewed it as such a big deal. 

“I guess that’s the price you pay for them being free,” Spencer points out. 

You hum, “I wouldn’t mind having one or two that I get to keep,” you say it so concretely, so nonchalantly. As though it’s not actually something you’re able to do.

“Why don’t you buy a couple?”

You glance over at the empty shelves. “‘Cause it’s like, childish?”

Spencer frowns, sitting up straighter. “Babe, do you think I’m childish?”

You rush to fix your mistake. “No! Of course not, that’s not at all what I meant-”

Spencer takes your hand, putting the empty coffee cup on your nightstand. It’s filled with his things and that makes his heart swell. “No, I know you weren’t calling me childish. But do you think I am?” When you shake your head, he continues. “I have like, video game bullshit all over my place. You’re not childish for having things that you like in your apartment. Plus, books are like the most normal out of all collectibles.” His eyes are deep and sincere and you roll your heels underneath you, moving so your legs are spread out in front of you. “You want books? Buy a million fucking books, babe.”

You sigh, biting your bottom lip. “I know, it’s… I used to have stuff on that shelf,” you admit. “I had a bunch of books, I’d been collecting some of them since I was a kid and everything. My last boyfriend he, well. Doesn’t matter, long story short, I came home from work one day and they were all gone.”

Spencer is probably the last guy you’d expect to see involved in a fistfight. He’s 5 '6, he loves Hawaiian shirts and there is video evidence of him Fortnite dancing. But more than that, though, he loves you, which is why his first instinct is to go find whoever it was that did that and fuck them up.

“That’s so messed up?” He can’t even wrap his head around it. “Babe, what? No, oh my god.” He can’t even formulate a coherent sentence. You love so liberally, so generously, that the idea that someone had thrown away something you love made him physically sick.

“I’m so sorry that he did that to you, that’s fucked. Not your fault you know how to read and he doesn’t.” That makes you laugh, your chest shaking as you lean into him. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your temple, rubbing your forearm gently. 

He and Kiana have plans on Saturday, and he has no intention of bailing on them, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling out his phone and texting her, asking if she’d be willing to make another stop with him while they were together.

The next Saturday, you get home from renewing your library book to find your boyfriend waiting out the front of your apartment. He beams at you as you reach him and you don’t have to look inside the box to know that once you stop kissing him you’ll find the beginnings of your next book collection. 

[nekrotikon]

hey, you! yes, you! do you like:

john milton’s paradise lost (or the band paradise lost. c’mon please anyone)

dante’s inferno

queer romance

romance that turns into tragedy

angels

when people know deep in their soul that lucifer and michael are so so fruity

so much flower symbolism

dealing with the knowledge that the weight of your actions will devour you until the end of days

GAY angels

then boy do i have the story for you!

i'm c.o. lopez, a queer disabled ND white/filipino writer working on a queer retelling of the devil’s tragedy called Sons of God.

lucifer is the oldest angel, tasked by a distant god with rearing all angels born after him, including the second-born michael.

as heaven develops at their feet and more angels are born, the pair grow closer, but the growing roles given to lucifer by the absent father and michael’s search for his identity, along with lucifer’s questioning of the lord and michael’s devotion, begin to drive them apart.

above it all, the lord sits on his lotus throne, watching and waiting in silence.

content warnings: along with graphic violence and sexual content, this book contains depictions of blasphemy, mental instability, psychosis, graphic self-harm, and emotional neglect. all of the angels also refer to each other as ‘brother’, including those in relationships. these warnings are currently subject to change, so make sure to check them every so often! and please if you're a minor, don't interact; you will be blocked. this blog isn't a space for you.

below are some tags that'll be used a lot (for more, look at my featured tags!):

sons of god: a general catch-all for book-related things; any tags below besides no-soggy-waffles will inherently include this

no soggy waffles: non-writing stuff, ex. paintings, cats, memes, w/e

soggy draft: any writing snippets up until being finished

soggy shitposts: memes about SOG

soggy asks: writing-related asks

soggy art: any drawings

sog [character name] will be used for any posts about specific characters, ex. 'sog lucifer' or 'sog asmodeus'

i hope you'll join me on this journey of gay angels and god sucking and saying screw you to catholicism!

also: mutuals who don't already have it can ask for my discord! i'm pretty regularly not on tumblr so if you want to hit me up outside of here, just ask :))

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- his chap, mentions of sex/getting turned on, Gojo being an ass tbh, welcome back Jock Sukuna and say hi to bitchy model Samantha lol, some angst and mutual pining, lots of feelings

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Three>>>

Part Two

Your POV

It was odd, being back in your hometown after years of living on your own, but when your family needed help with their bar, and with student loans piling up -  teaching did not pay very well - you couldn’t help but come back home for a bit. The shifts at the hometown bar helped, and staying with your parents for just a few months was definitely a life saver.

It’s not exactly where you saw yourself, teaching lay offs all over, now you have a preschool class here and you love it, but it’s definitely not enough to cover everything. You feel so… just upset, that you’re back here at your first job, grabbing beers for familiar faces, people who never left their hometown, and some that have, but came back like you did.

Despite it being Spring, it was freezing where you lived, some cold spurt that brought on snow in March, so many of the town were curling up by the roaring fire, bundled up laughing and drinking to stay warm. The bar had quite a cozy atmosphere, it reminded you of home, truly, you grew up here, from bussing tables and cleaning to serving drinks.

“Hey love, you look amazing.” You see Suguru and Shoko then, Shoko has a cigarette between her fingers, a familiar smile that makes you beam, as you come out from behind the bar, hugging them both.

“I missed you two oh goodness!” You receive a kiss on each cheek from them, as you hug them together.

“We heard you were back in town, how have you been?” Suguru asks softly, you sigh a bit, peering up at the tall man.

“I can’t believe I’m back here. Layoffs.” They frown then. “I heard you all run a whole dentist office!?”

“Sugu is a hot dentist.” Shoko teases, and he smirks a bit.

“Shoko runs the clinic attached to it. She outranks me.”

“Always.” You laugh with the two of them, hands on their shoulders now.

“I’m so proud of you two, what? Doctors, I can't believe that.”

“Hey now, teaching is important.” Shoko brushes your hair back softly, earning your flushed cheeks at her praise.

“They definitely don’t make enough.” Suguru says, earning your sigh.

“You’re telling me. Let me get you all drinks!” You eagerly bounce back, mixing them up drinks, Shoko loves a lemon drop from what you remember, and Suguru always enjoyed a rum and coke.

“You remember!” Shoko winks as you hand her the pretty drink, garnishing it with a little lemon swirl and grinning. The noise of the bar fills your ears, as you lean across the polished bar table, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

“Of course I remember. Gosh, it’s been four years since I’ve seen you all I think.” You all start catching up, but of course it starts to get busier, and you begin to take care of all the customers as Suguru and Shoko start tossing darts at the black and red circled board.

You smile at them, they’d always been the perfect couple, making that longing fill you too much. You fully expected to be married with kids by now, sure it was quite a homey little dream, that white picket fence, maybe two kids and some cute golden retriever, but that’s what you always dreamed of. Unfortunately, your bad taste and men did not end in high school.

“Speak of the devil…” You murmur nervously, when you see him, Ryomen Sukuna looking just as good if not better than high school, he still wears his damn letterman’s jacket from college, where he’d become an all star player, you hear now he’s even going pro.

What’s he doing back home?

He grins over now, red eyes sharp as ever, and you fully anticipate him bothering you, saying something pervy, as he walks across the crowded bar, stopping to talk to almost everyone, he was quite a name here. The only person more famous from your little town - there is a population of fourteen thousand and perhaps four stop lights- was Satoru Gojo.

You’d seen him on the damn cat walk, recently he was on the cover of Vogue, him and some other really famous model, this little smirk on his face that just doesn’t fit the boy you knew. If you thought he was cut before, his body was damn near godly, so perfect it was intimidating, and he’d only gotten prettier, not that Satoru wasn’t always so pretty.

He just didn’t know it then.

You think of him sometimes, hurt initially back when summer break hit after high school, and he refused all your calls, he refused to see or talk to anyone when you all lived so fucking close. You tried everything you could, feeling awful because it was your party and you didn’t know, could you have done more? Could you have shoved everyone out?

You were fully planning to if he’d just given you a moment. Your yearbook to this day is something you cherish, and reading his sweet words over and over, he’d taken over an entire page, with words of love you’ve never felt before. But to say it was all ‘a joke’ and leaving, never accepting a friend request, shit he didn’t even talk to Suguru or Shoko, his other best friends.

Satoru never spoke of his hometown in interviews, and when you saw his mom recently, you learned he’s never come home. You know things were hard on him, brutal even, but you wish he knew just how much you loved him, cared for him, sure it was more of a beautiful friendship, but you also were attracted to him, though you were scared to ruin that friendship.

If he just gave you a damn moment.

A friendship you built your entire life demolished, and you miss him even now, you miss the quiet mornings you two would study at the library, you miss the cup of coffee he’d have for you every morning. You missed the little sleepovers, playing pokemon games together, battling it out on the Wii, the amount of things the two of you shared, gone in a moment.

Sukuna leans across the bar, shaking you out of your reverie, his familiar, arrogant smirk just a little softer as his ruby eyes drape down your body, you’re just in some jeans and a polo, nothing too sexy for the family bar here. But he seems to take pleasure in every slow inch, murmuring your name.

“Look at you, even hotter than high school, shit.” You heat up a bit under his gaze, tilting your head and running your hand across your neck.

“Thank you, Sukuna. You look good too.” You earn his wide grin, as he swipes a hand through his pink hair, snowflakes melting just a bit as he leans his hip against the bar now.

“I’ve wondered how you were doing, aren’t you a teacher?”

“I am, but… layoffs.” Sukuna frowns a bit. “I’m teaching preschool here for now, but it’s…”

“They don’t pay shit.” On this, everyone agrees,

“Mmhmm, but it’s my passion. So here I am, working the student loans off.” You wink at him, and he softens then, resting his elbow on the bar, a hand in his chin.

“So pretty you shouldn’t be working.”

“Oh… no. Not at all.” You clear your throat, something is so different about him, he’s not the asshole you remember, or so it seems. “But just temporary, I’m finishing up a couple classes to teach higher education.”

“You always were smart, you’ll do well.”

“Oh… thank you, Sukuna.”

“Used to call me Kuna you know.” You giggle now, easing a bit, even under his gaze, which keeps darting down your body. “God you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Say that to the freshman fifteen that never left.” Sukuna chuckles then, when you turn and bend over, grabbing a beer.

“Went to your nice ass-”

“Sukuna!” You glare behind yourself, and he’s chuckling. “Here I was thinking you were all sweet.”

“I am sweet, thank you. Shit I’d love to catch up sometime?” You hand him his beer, sighing then.

“I don’t know…”

“Lunch or something?”

Satoru’s POV

Satoru’s stepping into the bustling bar with the most annoying model ever, cock hungry too, who’s clinging to his arm, looking at the little bar in disgust, while he eyes the familiar surroundings. He scoffs as he sees Sukuna’s letterman jacket, so pretentious really, and eyes everyone around, surely… your parents still run this place, he wonders, do you ever come visit?

“It’s so… quaint.” Comes Samantha’s voice next to him, running her fingers along the dusty bar, grimacing, she’s as tall as Satoru in her heels, perhaps one of the few women who he doesn’t tower over. All models were pretty tall, but typically he still had a couple inches, but Samantha was the best in her field, and maybe longer legs than Satoru Gojo himself.

“Yeah, I guess compared to LA.” He murmurs, the surroundings oddly comforting, despite how much he thought he’d hate it here. Something about shivering in the cold and then coming to this warm, bustling bar was…

Homey.

It gnaws at him, as people recognize him, and they begin to all come up, many who used to pick on him. He clings to that pretty model of his tighter, putting on a bright grin and lowering his black Gucci shades, the two of them are decked out in Saint Laurent and looking like a million bucks. Even in public, you had to make sure you were dressed to kill.

“Holy shit…” Satoru sees Suguru and Shoko then, their mouths drop as they come up to him. He's spoken to them a little here and there, but overwhelmingly has not said much since college was over. “Look at you two!”

“Look at you, all preening like a peacock.” Shoko rolls her dark eyes, sipping on a drink as she assesses him and his ‘girl’ who is clinging to him, laughing far too fake to ever be taken for as genuine, grating on his nerves.

“How cute, townies!” Samantha says, tossing blonde hair back, and Satoru scowls over at her.

“Who’s the snob?” Suguru asks boldly, making her gasp as Satoru’s muffling his laughter.

“Be nice.” Satoru warns, hands in the pockets of his red dress pants, a ruby so bright and bold it’s ridiculous for a place where people wear jeans and flannels.

“They’re not nice, Gojo. I don’t like it here!” She’s stomping her feet, and Satoru sighs, shaking his head.

“Go get a drink, hmm?” He turns her and smacks her ass, she cringes then.

“Myself!?”

“Become immersed in the small town, it’ll be good publicity, sweets.” He winks as she pouts and saunters off, ignoring the men and at one point hissing at one.

“She’s on drugs or…” Suguru trails off, and Satoru snorts.

“She’s definitely on a good Adderall / Xani combo. Shit… I missed you guys.” He ruffles Shoko’s hair, and shoves at Suguru good naturedly, Suguru smiles a bit, dark hair even longer than Satoru remembers.

“Sure you did. Come back to visit?”

“Uh… no.” He peers at his phone, sighing now. “Our suite for whatever reason isn’t available, I was stopping here and going to call Mom, since I have no reception whatsoever.”

“Why would you bring her to your mom’s, doesn’t she suffer enough with you as her kid?” Shoko earns Satoru sticking his tongue out, picking up the phone and dialing.

“Toru, sweetie!” Satoru sighs, he loves his mom, but to this day she really treats him like a child, even now.

“Hey mom, cool if I stay a few nights? I have a modeling-”

“You’re coming home!?” Satoru winces, pulling back the phone as Suguru and Shoko laugh.

“Yeah, if it’s-”

“I’ll make your favorite, baby, triple stack pancakes with sundae-”

“No, no, too many carbs.” He hears his mom’s sigh of disappointment, and clenches his jaw just a bit, looking over to see Samantha taking pictures of herself on her fancy phone, throwing up a pose now. “I guess yeah, I’ll eat pancakes.”

“My baby, oh I can’t wait, let me get started now!” His mom hangs up, and he can’t help but feel that fondness, the emptiness he’s had for so long just the tiniest bit filled by her voice.

“She’s excited.” He muses, sighing then. “I need a drink.”

Suguru and Shoko eye each other, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrow, studying their odd expressions. “Yes, you should, bartender she’s amazing.” Shoko’s smiling, and Satoru’s lips purse a bit.

“Hmm, guess I’ll see. I’ll be back.” He pats their shoulders again, heading over and passing more and more familiar faces, gosh none of them left, huh?

He leans against the bar, poking around on his phone as he hears Sukuna, asking then - 

“Lunch sometime?”

He snorts, eyeing the tall, big man who used to torment him, now eye to eye with him, and damn near his size. Sukuna blinks in surprise a bit when Satoru eyes him with humor.

“Lunch is friendzone territory, ouch.” Sukuna glares now, fists clenching on the bar, and that’s when…

You see him.

Satoru Gojo.

“Maybe I like lunch.” Your voice shocks him then, he eyes you, wide blue eyes going to the face of the girl he loved.

Your face.

You’re so pretty it makes his heart thud out of his fucking chest, you’re just like you were, maybe a bit more mature looking now, but god it was like a blast from his past, the ultimate memory of you couldn’t compare. You’re so beautiful, this fucking glow around you still, that comfort he has been craving hitting him in one instant, as he just stands there.

Satoru Gojo, who got whatever girl he wanted, was just standing there, staring at you, with his lips parted, you are heating up under his scrutiny, unsure of just what he was thinking, biting that lower lip a bit and shifting. He notices now, that you’re not fawning over him, drooling, like women did, if anything you’re glaring just a bit, your jaw set.

“I… you… here…” He can’t compute a fucking word - stupid, stupid - why did you reduce him to pathetic again, after all these years!?

“Yes, I work here again. I know, it’s not what I imagined either.” Your soft, devastated words attack him, making him feel like you punched him right in the gut, as Sukuna raises a brow at Satoru.

“Friend zone, did you just say that?” Satoru’s sputtering now, before clearing his throat, shutting his eyes and taking a breath.

He’s not some ‘nerd’ anymore.

He’s Satoru Fucking Gojo.

He smirks and leans against the bar, eyeing you slowly, pulling off pretentious shades that make you miss his tortoiseshell glasses. But when those piercing, swirling blue eyes hit you, trailing like Sukuna’s had, you feel so shy suddenly, so nervous around him, after so long. Surely he was looking down at you, surely he was so high and mighty that your life seemed sad to him.

You stand a little straighter now, while the two men, who have changed so much, both eye you, a blast from fucking high school if you ever saw one. “Look at you…” He murmurs your name softly, like a caress- shit his voice is deeper, it’s so sure, so cocky and conceited, not the sweet boy you miss. “You look great.”

“Thanks, so do you.” You manage softly, he’s in some suit worth as much as your year of work you’re sure, open with a vest showing of chest muscles, fuck he has red silk gloves, it’s so ridiculous you almost laugh.

He’s gorgeous but…

Who is he really?

“Working here again, huh?” He means it to be casual, but the way it comes off makes you straighten your shoulders, as Sukuna winces.

“All that money, all those women and you never learned.” Satoru scowls at Sukuna now, while you turn away, giving him a view of a body he’s dreamed of, fuck you’re even sexier now, those jeans sitting just right, is none of you not perfect, not beautiful?

“What can I get you, Gojo?” You ask after grabbing another beer for Sukuna, who takes it with a smile, and he tenses at that.

Gojo.

When did you ever call him anything but ‘Toru’?

But, you all are literally strangers now.

“Martini.” He says, earning Sukuna’s snort, Satoru’s scowl heads his direction once again as you start to get the ingredients together, shaking it up in the gold shaker like a pro.

“Little bitch drink.”

“Beer is disgusting, fuck that.”

Sukuna glares as he sips the drink, and you pour Satoru his martini, garnishing it and giving a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “One martini.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You falter, at his soft voice, at the way he says everything as if it were some caress.

“You’re welcome.” He hands you far too much money then, making you blink. “It’s only ten bucks.”

“Keep the rest, love.” He winks now, and you feel your face heating up, did he think you needed it so badly? Does he pity you?

Does he care?

“Thanks… um, sure on lunch, Sukuna.” Satoru’s teeth clench, like watching history repeat itself. “Even if it’s ‘friend zone’ I’m fine with meeting up.”

“Perfect, here’s my number…” He writes it right on one of the pretty white napkins, and you take it carefully. “I’ll be in town all week.”

“Alright, sounds good.” Sukuna tips you, not the exorbitant fifty dollars Satoru just handed you, but a twenty, with a little nod of his head, as he passes Satoru now, and Samantha comes right up to him.

“Oh look at you, all star for the-” She’s flirting but Sukuna ignores her, winking at you and making you want to giggle, but you barely hold it in. “So rude! Gojo, can we please leave this shitty little bar?”

You scowl right up at the tall, beautiful model who pouts over at Satoru, clinging to his arm, he stiffens, but you see it, clearly they’re… together. “The ‘shitty little bar’ is owned by my family. And you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Oooh, you’re feisty.” She’s giggling psychotically, using her hand to make a clawing motion. “Rawr!”

“The fuck…” You shake your head, sighing as you set back to work, Samantha’s hands running down Satoru’s chest, irritating him to no end.

All he can see is you, and you’re just turning away, the girl he…

He left.

He left you.

No word, no goodbye, and he thought maybe it wouldn’t feel like this, maybe after eight years and endless women in his bed, he could stop feeling like this, stop the love he had. He tried to chalk it up to puppy love, you were the nicest person to him, of course he developed feelings, right?

Wrong.

He watches as you head out from behind the bar as Samantha’s going on and on about some Instagram post, downing the rest of his martini. “We’ll leave in a minute, go wait in the car.”

“I can’t believe we don’t even have a driver, ugh!” Satoru blinks at her, turning her now, watching as you stop and talk to Suguru and Shoko, smiling so sweet, lighting up the whole fucking room.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Oh fine but…” She drags him down by his tie, whispering in his ear then- “I can suck you while you drive.”

What would once excite him doesn’t compute, he just nods and pushes the crazy woman to the entrance of the bar. “Sure whatever.”

“No pictures, please.” She throws on her sunglasses, as curious people wonder just what this woman is talking about, and Satoru feels your eyes on him then, his catch yours across the room. He watches you tense, as he steps closer, and Shoko and Suguru depart, giving you both one moment.

“Hi.” He manages to say, and for once, the pretentious rich model reminds you of him, the boy you grew up with, the one you miss so badly it feels like he’s a dream.

“Hi.” Your soft voice ends him, you’re shifting side to side, Satoru towers over you, making you feel so small then, as he presses a hand against the wall over your head, tilting your chin up with his other hand. Your eyes go wide then, breath catching, heart hammering.

“I’d love to catch up, I am here for a few days, I’ll be at mom’s.” You blink a bit then, looking down, gently taking his hand off your chin by his wrist, the contact making you both pause. For a moment he pictures it, kissing you, making every move he failed at in high school, taking your lips over.

He pictures so much, up to and including you under him, shit maybe now he’d have a chance with a girl like you, maybe he could taste your sweetness, could inhale that vanilla body spray you somehow wear eight years later. Could show you pleasure he bets you never got before, cock aching just being in your presence, he has to will it to go down.

“Your mom, I just saw her.” You ease his hand down, back resting against the wall just a bit, hair falling across your shoulders, you gasp when he brushes it back, another move he had tried and failed at back then.

That night should have been his first kiss.

You should have been his first everything, fuck.

“Could we do dinner or drinks?” His tone reminds you of what he said earlier, so you smile, a little mean glint in your eye.

“Maybe lunch.”

“Lunch!?” He’s glaring, thin white brows lowered, and you giggle.

“Coffee?”

Shit.

“Or is that too ‘friend zone’ for you, Gojo.” Satoru blinks a bit, hand falling, barely brushing your shoulder when it falls, you try to ignore how good it feels, he tries to act nonchalant, not like the fucking world is faded, aside from you. That the entire bar is just an echo, it’s just you.

And you’re furious, he can feel it. “No, no I mean it’s fine. If you want… coffee we can do coffee.” He can’t believe he’s saying this, he brushes his white locks back, winking down then. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Uh huh. Well, coffee then, if you want to catch up I’m surprised, considering it all though.” Satoru’s jaw clenches just a bit.

“I’d like to catch up.” You soften at his first vulnerable statement, the first thing that feels real. “How about in the morning, are you staying nearby?”

“I’m living with my parents for a couple months.” He frowns at that, you suddenly feel so insecure, a rich model right in front of you, just as he said that day- that he’d make it, and you all…

Would just burn out.

Maybe you did.

“Oh, you are, is something wrong?”

“Helping them a bit, big teacher layoffs nationwide.”

“You teach?” His smile is finally genuine, as you nod, so shyly, his shoulders relax, as his hands slip in his pockets once more. “You always wanted to.” Your eyes shoot up to his now, swirling beautiful blue, a hint of the sweet boy you adored.

“You remember?”

“How couldn’t I…”

“I figured you forgot us all.” Satoru gulps down the guilt, as you manage to pull yourself together, sighing. “Come by my parents in the morning, if you remember where they are.”

“How can I forget, it’s across the street.”

“All right then… I look forward to it.” He awkwardly leans down, as you wrap a friendly arm around his waist, inhaling his cologne, much different than the boy who wore axe body spray and always sucked on lifesavers. His hard body against your much softer one feels a little too good, when he rests his chin on your head.

Nothing has ever felt better than holding you in his arms.

Memories swirl for the both of you, but it’s different, Satoru seems like some bold and pretentious stranger, but for a moment you remember. You remember crying in his arms, over this breakup or that, you remember his sweet hugs during study sessions, you remember laughing and watching the dumbest movies. You exhale just a bit, as a big hand presses the small of your back.

Satoru missed you.

He doesn’t say it, he can’t say anything, pulling back and looking at you then, hand coming to cup your face, opening his mouth to speak when Samantha starts shouting “I’m bored Gojo! I’m so bored!”

The entire bar turns her direction, you fall back a bit, as Gojo internally curses, seeing the brat that is his partner crossing her arms in that fur coat. “I’m coming okay, shit!”

“Your girlfriend is bored.” You’re giggling then, you can’t help it, covering your face as Samantha glares.

“Not my girlfriend, jesus. Um… okay, the morning.” You nod, walking off now, past Samantha, who hisses at you like the psychotic bitch she is, making Satoru grimace with Suguru and Shoko walk up to Satoru.

“You fucked that intro up.” Suguru says, snorting as he puts his arm around Shoko’s waist, and she’s laughing.

“Fucked it up bad.”

“Oh like you’re any help.” They just shake their head, eyeing Satoru’s screaming model bestie.

“See you in eight more years.” Suguru’s words sting, as Satoru feels it then, the guilt eating away at him, but Samantha won’t shut up long enough for him to process, he drags her out into the cold, chilled air, seeing you climbing up into what appears to be your SUV, your eyes flicker to him for just a moment, before you shut the door.

“You like townies hmm? Can’t stop eye fucking girl next door.” Satoru’s eyes make even Samantha falter then.

“Who I like is none of your fucking concern. In.” He plops down in the rental, an audi of course, god forbid Satoru Gojo or Samantha would be seen in anything less, on that they are the same.

“You’re so cranky, she’s hot, just… gives those girl next door vibes.”

“Yeah well, she was the girl next door for me. Almost.” He feels her hand now, trailing over his thigh, she leans over and laughs in his ear, making him cringe. “How’d I get stuck with-”

“Let me make you feel so good, should I suck little Gojo?”

“Little Gojo!? It’s not little, Samantha.” He shoves her off, and she pouts again, crossing her arms.

“How’d I get stuck with you is the question, no fun. Now we have to go stay in poorville.”

“It’s the fucking suberbs.”

“Poor. Poor. Poor. Boring, boring.” Satoru almost pushes her out of the goddamn car, no blow job would be worth it, even if it would shut her up for a moment, even if his cock twitches thinking of you.

He pulls up to his home, his mother already has it opened when he walks up, hugging him tightly, kissing his face all over and making him wince. “Mom…”

“My baby, I never thought you’d come home.” She’s got tears in her pretty blue eyes, she visits LA once a year or more, but now the way tears fall from eyes that match his wracks him with guilt.

He could have come back at least once, right?

No, no he couldn’t.

“And this is…”

“Samantha.” She shakes his mom’s hand, tossing back long blonde locks and smiling. “You have such a quaint little home.”

Satoru’s mom blinks rapidly, brows together, this wasn’t a small home, it was four stories and lovely, left to them from Satoru’s dad, but he supposes to a rich, spoiled brat like Samantha, it’s ‘quaint’. “Um, thank you, and you’re staying too?”

“Unfortunately.” Satoru’s mom raises her brows, as Samantha clings to Satoru once again, grinning.

“I get to meet the mom, huh? I’m so special-”

“Let’s eat.”

Satoru finally leaves a snoring, annoying model brat Samantha alone in the guest room, when he walks inside his childhood room, frozen. Time has been frozen, his mother hasn’t changed a single fucking thing, up to and including pictures of you and him all over the walls. He gulps down his emotions, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, undressing carefully.

He sees his old nerdy ass sweater, one you’d gotten him, still folded on his desk, like he never left. His fingers brush the fabric, as he stares at his reflection, feeling like he’s a ghost in his own room. The connections start to build, the mirror he kissed that night, the endless photos and mementos he kept. He eyes that box now, opening a letter carefully, crumbled and faded ink.

My Toru, I hope you have the best day, I can’t wait for the movies!

Toru, can you believe how the year has flown by!?

Do you want to go bowling Y or N

Your new glasses are so cute I love them!

Bad day today, sorry I’m quiet.

Tears fall down his cheeks, he only notices when the blotches form on the ink, all the times you’d write to him every day, passing little notes in class with hearts all over them, brightening his day. He’d kept every single fucking one, and there were so, so many in this tin box, stuffed inside like all of his fucking feelings.

He wipes his eyes quickly, shaking it off, pulling out his luggage with his own clothes and getting dressed in sweats for the night, curiously pushing on the cd left in the player, sighing then. Your favorite song, it’s that mixed CD he was making you, the one he never gave you. Satoru quickly turns it off, the button a resounding click, walking to the corkboard littered with you.

Knock knock knock.

“Come in, mom.” She does just that, peeking her pretty face, still so young looking, so sweet as she smiles at him. “You didn’t change any of it.”

“No, I always hoped you’d come back, at least for a day.” She walks up to Satoru now, seeing the photos he’s staring at now, Satoru and you sipping a milkshake together with two straws, in the middle of a diner. “You two were so sweet, she’s back in town you know.”

“I know… I’m seeing her in the morning.” His mom’s eyes light up, and he laughs a bit. “Don’t get excited, my life isn’t here mom.”

“Part of it will always be.” She cups his face, smiling up at him. “I hope you have fun with her, she has kept in touch all these years you know.”

“She has?”

“Yes, she… misses you. She asks about you when she visits town.” Satoru blinks back emotion, turning away now, clearing his throat.

You asked about him after all this? After he'd gone out of your life for good? What if he just heard you out, what if he…

“I’m tired, mom.” Mrs. Gojo nods, a hand on his back for a moment.

“Good night, Toru.”

“Night.” He lays in his bed, phone blowing up, his agent with details, a coordinator for the show, friends from LA teasing him on having to come back home, but he quickly turns it off, holding a photo of you, the only one he brought.

He gently touches it, sighing, wondering…

Will you like him now, could he be good enough?

While you lay in bed, tossing, turning, fuming damn near at Satoru Gojo’s audacity, sitting up finally, putting on Satoru’s favorite song, on that mixed CD you had been making him, before he disappeared. Your childhood room is the same as it always was, littered with photos of you and Satoru, your best friend that just disappeared, and came back a different person.

You touch a photo, one where he’s grinning so big with his cute little braces, holding up a science award, and you’re so overcome with emotion you have to hold back your tears, touching the polaroid gently. Was that boy in there somewhere, the boy you knew, the one who deserved the world - he seemingly got it of course.

Would he find you so boring? He hung out with celebrities, he walked runways, he’s clearly got a beautiful - batshit insane but- girl on his arm. Was it some pity, did he feel bad you were in a little bar? Your mind can’t handle it all, as you plop down in your childhood bed, mind racing.

Who was Satoru Gojo now?

Ah why'd I tear up when Satoru goes home? Next part we see just how coffee goes lol

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

[captainmalewriter]

Superstar

Commission Story

“Dude check out my sweet pump! I swear to God I’m getting bigger!” 

Xavier was checking himself out in the mirror while his best friend Carlos sketched something on a legal pad on the nearby living room couch. Carlos stopped drawing for a brief second and looked over at Xavier with lazy eyes.

“Yeah man, you’re getting real massive now,” Carlos lied. Xavier’s bicep looked exactly the same as the last time he checked. “Maybe I’ll ask you to spot me the next time I go for a PR.”

“Alright alright, cut the crap,” Xavier rolled his sleeves back down. “I can do without the teasing, thanks.”

“No I’m serious, X! You’re starting to look like me! C’mon, let’s compare sizes real quick.”

Carlos hopped off the couch and joined Xavier before the full-body mirror. He then took off his shirt in one smooth motion and flexed his muscular torso. 

Having been in various sports throughout his life, Carlos boasted an impressive physique. He had strong, broad shoulders and absolute cannons for arms. Carlos took up most of the mirror space when he posed, which forced Xavier to step to the side. Having seen the same body repeatedly throughout the years, Xavier was no longer impressed by his friend’s athletic build.

“Nah, you’re still pretty small.”

Xavier poked Carlos at his side, where he knew he was most ticklish. Carlos jabbed Xavier in retaliation. Xavier returned the hit in kind. They would then continue exchanging blow for blow, hitting each other’s ticklish spots until one of them eventually called uncle. This was a game they frequently played ever since they first became friends.

Carlos and Xavier had first met in middle school when they sat next to each other in art class. They formed a homework pact soon after first meeting each other. Xavier helped Carlos with his science homework, while Carlos helped Xavier with his drawing assignments. Their mutual agreement led to them becoming best friends. On the outside, they looked like a stereotypical duo that would typically be at odds— Xavier being the scrawny, gay nerd while Carlos was the conventionally handsome, popular athlete, but anyone who knew either of them knew they had a lot of love for each other. Nowadays, even though they attended different colleges, they would still make time to hang out with each other often. Theirs was a friendship that survived the test of time.

“Alright alright, enough!! You win!” Xavier called out. They were both out of breath and red in the face after roughhousing, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a laugh and a bro hug. 

Their loud, combined laughter stopped them from noticing when Carlos’ father, Enrique, arrived home from work. Enrique looked at them with a scowl plastered on his face. Xavier and Carlos both immediately stopped laughing when they noticed him. Carlos felt a cool breeze on his exposed skin, then hurried to put on his shirt, remembering he was shirtless.

“Dad!” Carlos said while slipping his shirt back on. “You’re home early—”

“What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at summer practice already?” 

“Not yet I don’t, practice doesn’t even start for another two hours!”

“What kind of loser talk is that?” Enrique crossed his arms and shook his head in disappointment. “How do you expect to stay ahead of everyone else if you’re not out on the field putting in the extra hours?”

“I’m fine, Dad, I don’t need extra practice hours.”

“Psh, that’s how it always starts. First, you stop going to practice early. Next, you stop going at all. Then, you start getting less and less playing time because you’re not playing as good as you once were. You’re going to lose your scholarship, Carlitos, is that what you want!?”

Xavier noticed Carlos’ eyebrows beginning to furrow and stepped in before he could respond. 

“Hey, let’s just get going. Don’t wanna catch the midday traffic after all.”

Xavier helped himself out while Carlos lagged behind. Carlos gave his father one last cold stare, then began walking out. Enrique stepped towards him as he did so.

“And I want you to stop hanging out around that queer. He’s going to make you weak.”

Carlos stopped once he heard what his father whispered into his ear. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He wanted to retaliate but couldn’t find the words to do so. All he could do was listen to his father’s dress shoes echoing down the hallway as he left. Carlos cleared his throat and went for his car, where Xavier was already waiting in the passenger seat.

The car ride to Carlos’ college, where summer practice was being held, started off silent and tense. Xavier looked over to his buddy as he drove them down the freeway. He knew Carlos wasn’t the type to show his emotions often, but he knew the dilemma over rugby and his father was eating him alive inside. 

“Hey… Sorry about your Dad. He sucks.”

“Hmph, don’t be. You know he’s always been like that, I’m used to it,” Carlos responded. 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep putting up with it. You need to tell him that you wanna pursue art.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Why not?”

“Dude, c’mon, you know my Dad doesn’t give a fuck about my art. He just wants me to focus on rugby so I can keep my scholarship.”

“Well, can’t you just switch your program of study? He doesn’t have to know!” Xavier teased. Carlos didn’t laugh.

“Can’t. The school won’t allow it. Student athletes can only be in certain programs and art isn’t one of them.”

Xavier wanted to offer a rebuttal but couldn’t think of anything they hadn’t already considered. He stayed quiet and shrunk into the leather cushion of the passenger seat.

“You know, maybe my Dad’s right,” Carlos started. “There are worse things in life than being forced to play rugby. Besides, imagine all the money I’ll earn once I go pro. Maybe sticking with sports is the right call.”

“Dude, what about your art? Art can make you money too! I’ve seen your drawings and paintings, you’ve got talent! You can make it big, even bigger than with rugby!”

“You don’t know that,” Carlos sighed heavily as he stopped at a red light coming off the freeway. “I’m not saying I’ll stop drawing completely, but maybe that shouldn’t be the focus of my life right now. I need to stay in perfect shape if I wanna go pro with rugby.” Carlos turned his head to Xavier and held eye contact with him. His gaze softened. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me, X, but I really don’t think art is in the cards for me. It’s gonna take a miracle to change my Dad’s mind, and I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.” 

Xavier stayed quiet but gave an affirming nod, then looked away. As they pulled into campus, he pointed to the library.

“Drop me off there, I wanna check out some books,” Xavier said. Carlos did as requested.

“You’ve been hanging out at the library a lot lately. You’re not even a student here, what are you doing there?”

“Your school’s got an interesting collection on the history of alchemy, so I’ve been reading it. Nothing special, really.”

Xavier lied. For the past few months, Xavier hadn’t been studying the history of alchemy but rather how to practice alchemy. While he had started his research with a rudimentary understanding of medieval chemistry, Xavier soon discovered that alchemy could be used for way more things besides the old and tired turn-metal-into-gold gimmick. A sly smile formed on Xavier’s face as he finished reading the last alchemy book in the library collection. With a careful hand and enough determination, he could transform anything into anything! Including the human body.

Xavier was ready to put his knowledge into practice that very same night. Against Enrique’s wishes, Carlos let his best friend sleep in their spare room for the night. While they were sound asleep, Xavier’s mind was racing with all the possibilities the world of alchemy had opened up for him. 

Once he finally settled on a plan, he went into action. Xavier crept into Carlos’ room while he was snoring peacefully. He tiptoed slowly, careful not to wake him up, and kneeled beside his bed.

“Alright… Just five minutes then I get out… For the sake of science, nothing more…”

Xavier reached out to Carlos and pulled down his white undershirt. Then, with the tip of his pointer finger, he drew a heart right over his actual heart. He whispered an incantation as he did so. Once he finished tracing the outline of a heart, Xavier lifted his finger and then firmly pressed the center of Carlos’ heart. As soon as he had done so, Carlos’ snoring immediately ceased. It worked. Xavier successfully transformed him into a bodysuit.

While Xavier was overjoyed that his little alchemy experiment had worked, he knew he had no time to celebrate. Xavier had no idea how long the transformation would hold so he hurried to put the Carlos bodysuit on. 

He pried the bodysuit’s mouth wide open then stuck his face inside. Xavier pushed his way down Carlos’ throat. The bodysuit’s internal fluids acted as lubrication for Xavier’s body as he slithered his way inside. He could hear all the slippery, wet noises Carlos’ body was making as it expanded to take in another human body. It was a tight squeeze but with enough force, Xavier was able to force himself into Carlos’ body with one final push. He was in.

Nrrghh…

Xavier heard a moan as he laid inside the bodysuit. He wasn’t sure if it was him or the bodysuit, though that was the least of his worries. Xavier began to stretch his limbs out from inside of Carlos. As his limbs slipped into Carlos’ limbs like sleeves, the once limp bodysuit sprang to life. Slowly but surely, Xavier was able to move and feel through Carlos’ body.

Urghhhh fuckk!!

Xavier let out a loud moan from within Carlos as his senses adjusted to their new body. All at once, he felt the sudden shift in body weight thanks to all the muscle mass Carlos had. Xavier smirked as he ran his hands down his newly obtained firm pecs and chiseled abs. The light body hair brushed against his fingertips, sending electric, sensual sensations as he explored his borrowed muscular body.

Mmmm fuck yeah…

Xavier purred with Carlos’ voice as he continued checking out his new body. He kept a wide grin as he did so. Xavier could hardly believe how much of a success his little alchemy experiment was. Movement… speech… feeling, Xavier controlled it all! 

Even though Xavier was already very familiar with Carlos’ well-toned body, being able to see it from an up close perspective spurred great excitement and pleasure. The tent forming in his sweatpants was a testament to that. Xavier looked at his growing boner with a devilish smirk. He wanted nothing more than to grab and massage his cock, but decided against it. After all, 15 minutes had already passed and he swore he’d only allow himself five minutes. 

Xavier laid back down in bed and let himself out of his borrowed body. He was ejected from Carlos’ body with a loud slurp, leaving an empty bodysuit behind in the bed. Xavier looked down at the limp bodysuit as his senses readjusted. He was worried about possible side effects, but was relieved when Carlos began snoring again after a few minutes had passed. Thankfully, the bodysuit technique he had performed on him seemed to be temporary. Xavier went back to the guest room and practically collapsed on the bed due to fatigue. Performing alchemy and taking on a new body left him physically and mentally exhausted.

Xavier woke up late the next day. Despite having slept in, he was sore and with body aches, most likely due to the bodysuit experiment he had pulled during the night. Xavier stretched and rolled out of bed, wondering who he would use alchemy on next. He had woken up so late that Carlos was already gone for rugby practice, leaving him alone with Enrique.

Enrique was busy working out in the back. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, sunglasses, and a hat. Even from inside the house, Xavier saw how sweaty Enrique was from doing yard work in the hot sun. He watched Enrique toiling away with a hoe for a few minutes. 

“Hm… He’s not a bad option for a bodysuit. Thicker body type, some muscle, lots of body hair, full beard… Yeah, he could definitely be some fun to take over for a spin…”

Then quickly retreated into the hallway when he saw him coming inside. He refused to interact with a man he knew hated him. From the safety of the hallway, Xavier watched Enrique as he took a break on the couch. Enrique noticed Carlos’ notebook sitting on the coffee table and audibly groaned in disapproval.

“I told him he needs to stop drawing… All this art bullshit is gonna get in the way of his focus! I need to hide this before he gets back home.” Enrique leaned his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. All while not even noticing that Xavier was glaring at him with a growing vengeful lust.

Any hesitation Xavier had had disappeared when he heard Enrique’s plan. It was a simple plan with amazing benefits: Xavier would get to try out a dad bod, and because it was Enrique he’d be wearing, he could become his best friend’s dad and help him follow his dream of becoming an artist. It was a win-win situation!

Xavier waited a couple of minutes to make sure Enrique’s guard was down, then proceeded to take action. He crawled up to the couch and quietly positioned himself over Enrique. He then gently placed his finger on Enrique’s exposed chest and began outlining a heart, just like he had done with Carlos. Xavier’s finger practically glided along his chest because of how sweaty he was.

Hrmph… Hrm? What the—

Shit!!

Xavier was hoping Enrique had fallen asleep, but he was wrong. He was wide awake. Xavier finished performing the bodysuit ritual as quickly as he could. He managed to complete the ritual before Enrique could fight back. Enrique began transforming into a bodysuit. In a state of panic, Xavier hurried to put him on. He pushed his head into the mouth of the bodysuit and began forcing his way into Enrique’s body. He thought he was in the clear, but then he felt a rubbery hand holding him by the neck.

What are you doing!? Get out of me!!

Xavier heard Enrique’s voice rejecting his presence. He was shocked. He didn’t think someone could resist body invasion once they started turning into a bodysuit. It seemed like Enrique was a fighter! But so was Xavier. Xavier caught a whiff of Enrique’s sweaty musk as he fought his way in. The strong, masculine smell ignited a powerful lust inside of Xavier. He craved more and he was going to make sure he got it no matter what.

Xavier used his full strength to push himself in. Thankfully, although Enrique resisted against him, he was still turning into a bodysuit. The longer it went on, the less of a fight Enrique was able to put up. Xavier crawled his way inside of the dad bodysuit. Enrique’s body expanded and distorted as Xavier’s presence filled up the inside space. With one last burst of energy, Xavier was swallowed up by the bodysuit. The bodysuit began thrashing around on the couch as Xavier began stretching his limbs out into Enrique’s limbs.

Umphh… Stop…! Ughhnnn…

Enrique felt himself getting taken over by the young gay man as it happened. He absolutely hated the thought of it. He felt Xavier’s hands fill in his own hands like a well-fitting glove. He felt the same full sensation with his legs and feet. One finger at a time, one toe at a time, Enrique was completely powerless to fight against Xavier’s growing control over his body. And the worst part of it all was how good Enrique felt having someone wear him like a suit. As Xavier filled in the bodysuit from the inside, was hitting nerve endings Enrique didn’t even know he had. It sent shocks of pleasure that left Enrique jolting and moaning obscenely. His manhood was hardening and leaking precum from all the stimulation. 

Aarrghhh fuckkkk!!

Xavier growled out with Enrique’s voice. He slipped his own cock into Enrique’s growing member like a personal dick sleeve, sending another wave of ecstasy throughout their shared body. An unwanted smirk formed on Enrique’s face once Xavier gained full control over his body. It was over.

Hey! Stop that!! Get your hands off my dick!!

“No way man! This cock’s mine now!!” Xavier teased. He made Enrique’s hands paw at their protruding package. 

He then grabbed and lowered Enrique’s shorts with lightning speed. Enrique’s cock was at full mast and sprung out once it was released. Xavier whistled with delight as he admired his new cock. Enrique had a cock that was as thick as a beer can with a big tip and an unkempt bush of pubic hair too. After thrashing around from getting taken over, Enrique’s body was drenched and glistening with sweat. With a horny grin, Xavier lifted his arm and aired out his sweaty pit hair. The potent smell immediately filled his nostril. He leaned into his pit and took a deep sniff of his musk. The manly aroma fed his arousal, and made his already erect cock to grow even harder and longer.

Stop it! That’s gross!!

Xavier groaned when he heard Enrique complaining from inside his head. 

“Are you sure, big guy? Seems like you’re into it too!” Xavier waved his erect member around, causing precum to drip around his hairy thighs. 

Once Enrique quieted down again, Xavier decided to indulge. He leaned his face back into his ripe armpit and used his tongue to sip a few droplets of salty sweat hanging off his pit hair. He then took another few whiffs of his sweaty scent, groaning as he did so, then ran his fingers down his hairy torso. He stopped momentarily at his nipples to pinch them. Xavier loved the pain sensation jolting through his chest as he pinched his sensitive nipples. His hands continued slithering down until they finally reached his leaking manhood. Xavier ran his fingers through his new bush. His fingers got caught in the forest of thick, black hair. Xavier smirked as he tugged on his bush while his other hand began pumping his throbbing member— all while Enrique was conscious of him moving around with his body.

“Nrghh… fuck man!! Nghhh this feels so good…”

Xavier moaned loudly as he jerked off, much to Enrique’s dismay. Enrique couldn’t do anything but complain as Xavier had free reign over his body. Everytime he protested, Xavier moaned louder and louder until he stopped again. 

This continued for about another five minutes until Xavier felt himself getting close. Once Xavier felt it, he grabbed his throbbing member with both hands and stroked ferociously. His pecs were bouncing up and down with every pump. He was dripping sweat everywhere from how intensely he was jerking off. Then, at the moment of climax, Xavier threw his head back and let out a sensual gasp as load after load of warm cum came shooting out of him like a fire hydrant. His cock was twitching and throbbing until every last load was pumped out of his heavy balls. 

Xavier was breathing heavily. All of the body hair on his upper body became drenched and sticky with all the sweat and cum. He laid on the couch satisfied and completely relaxed, until he heard the garage door opening. Carlos was home.

“Oh fuck, not now!”

Xavier sprang to his feet and hurried to clean up after himself. He threw on his shorts and used nearby napkins to dry off his bodily fluids. No matter how hard Xavier tried, it made no difference. The couch was still soaking wet and he was still red in the face after his little tugging session, but it would have to do for now.

Carlos walked into the living room as soon as Xavier finished throwing away the evidence of what had happened.

“Hey Dad,” Carlos said.

“Hey… Son. How was practice?” Xavier said with a nervous stutter. 

“It was fine, I guess.”

“Hey man, that’s really good to hear! I’m proud of you!” 

“Yeah… thanks.” Carlos looked at him with a confused expression. He couldn’t access his mind even though he had perfect control over Enrique’s body. Without access to his memories, Xavier had to guess what Enrique would say. He was in uncharted territory, and he was terrified.

Carlos!! Hijo! Help me!! Your weird friend is controlling my body!!

Enrique was still shouting in Xavier’s head. Irritated, Xavier accidentally responded out loud.

“I swear to God will you just shut up already!?”

“I didn’t even say anything!!”

“Not you!!” Xavier looked over at Carlos. He shook his head to himself. “I’ve been feeling kind of weird today, I’m sorry.”

Carlos stood apprehensively for a brief moment, then lowered his guard again. “It’s alright, I understand. I had a really weird dream last night. I don’t feel like myself today either.” He took out a car key and offered it to Xavier. “Here, thanks for letting me borrow the truck.”

Not suspecting anything of it, Xavier tried reaching out for it. As soon as he did so, Carlos pinned against the couch.

“Fucking liar! I know it’s you in there Xavier!”

“Huh? No it’s not—”

“Save it. I know my Dad, and he would never say shit like ‘man’ or ‘I swear to God!’ What the fuck is going on!?”

“Okay okay I’ll tell you! Just let me get up first!”

Carlos did as asked. Xavier then explained everything to him. He explained how he used alchemy to turn Enrique into a bodysuit and took over his body and identity. Xavier explained that he wanted to help him pursue his dream of becoming an artist by taking over his dad’s identity. After he was done, Carlos stood up and paced around the room quietly.

“This is insane…” Carlos murmured. Xavier stayed quiet. “This is so fucking insane… And honestly? This might be the miracle I was praying for…”

Xavier was overjoyed that Carlos was on board with his plan. He pulled Carlos in for a bro hug, and after they hugged, Carlos told him to never do that again if he was going to act like his father from now on. Xavier chuckled and nodded.

“You got it, Carlitos, I’ll become an even better father than your dad ever was!” Carlos grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that, Dad.”

From then on, Xavier continued pretending to be Carlos’ father Enrique. Carlos had to teach him what to say and what not to say, but Xavier was a quick learner. Although Carlos still had to play rugby to keep his scholarship, he could finally devote more time to his artwork thanks to his father’s new attitude. Carlos was able to find success as a painter after he graduated. In fact, he had been invited to a gallery opening for rising new artists such as himself. His future as an artist was bright.

And while Carlos was busy making a name for himself, his best friend/new father lived happily too. Xavier loved his new dad bod, and so did the gay hunks at the local gym. They would never give him the time of the day back in his old body, but with his new DILF body? They were all over him. Although Enrique still occasionally complained in his head, Xavier learned how to ignore him. The old Enrique had become a distant memory over the years as Xavier and Carlos lived their best lives as a happy father and son duo.

Thank you for supporting!!

[bb-eilish]

Blooming Eyes

pairing; collegeathlete!anakinx flowershopworker!reader

summary; After accidentally knocking over another student with her painting, Y/n seems to have caught the eye of him. The same eyes that stare at her, blue and intense have trapped her, so she does what she does best; paint.

word count; 14.5k

warnings; P in v sex, multiple smut scenes, rough sex, romantic sex, mutual pining, obsession, dirty talk, name-calling, dumbification, making out( so much kissing omg), cunnilingus, creampie, etc etc

Working and going to school wasn’t fun, Y/n’s sure nobody has ever said it was. Though, her job was, oddly, pretty nice. She worked in a flower shop for Christ's sake, she was around nice people, and even nicer flowers.

School on the other hand was not as enjoyable. Y/n was in school for painting, and because of these two things people were able to figure her out easily. A sensitive woman who owns multiple cats, some even going as far as labeling her a "crazy cat lady" and trying to decipher her mental health for some reason.

She didn't let that bother her though, she lived a cozy life and for that she was grateful.

"I'll miss you." She pouts at her cat. The fluffy white one, Cherry, brushed against her legs as Y/n crouched, she briefly licked Y/n's fingers before rubbing her furry face against them. The woman smiled softly at the white fluff ball as she swept her hand down the cat's furry back.

"Don't think I forgot about you Mr. Grumpy pants." Y/n smiles as she steps over to her other cat, the broody void named Bear. He was curled up on top of her couch cushion, hiding his pouty face as she baby-talked. "I'll miss you too." The black cat uncurled to stretch and play with Y/n's fingers. She finally grabbed her backpack, the large canvas she had to drag to class, and waved at the two cats before opening and shutting the door to her apartment.

Traffic wasn't too bad, though, she wouldn't mind if it was. She enjoys blasting music and singing as loud as she wants. It was therapeutic. But, as she was pulling into the parking lot infront of the art building, she turned a little too sharp and the canvas in her backseat went flying. A mantra of "shit shit shit shit shit" flew out of her mouth as she parked and prayed it didn't break. Y/n whips around and inspects the item before slumping down in relief.

Now, the worst part, getting this monstrosity into class without injuring her fellow classmates.

"Sorry, 'scuse me." She mutters as she sidesteps and tip-toes through a crowd of people. A large clock sits on the wall of the building she's facing and, of course, it reads ‘9:29’. Her class starts at 9:30, she knows college professors are more lenient but she didn’t get that kind of teacher.

She loves her art class, absolutely adores it, but the teacher is a bit of a stickler and will kick students out if they're more than a minute late. Y/n thankfully spots the brick building just in time. Suddenly, "Go long" is yelled from beside her. Whipping her head around, she spots a student who is obviously an athlete and rolls her eyes, turning back to look in front of her.

But that would, simply, be too easy. Her canvas completely bulldozes over somebody as she turned around for half a second. "Oh my god." She spoke, not at the man on the ground, but at the freshly ripped hole right in the center of her painting. Terror paints her face as she stares at it. "Watch where you're going maybe." One of the guy's friends says.

"My painting.." She says as the man on the ground gets up. She's about to apologize when the clock from before chimes at 9:30, her eyes widen more, if possible, so she offers a mumbled "Sorry" before scrambling off.

"Are you okay, Anakin?"

"Yea...I'm fine." He lets out, still a little stunned. Not at him being basically tackled, but at her. He's never seen her before, but he couldn't think of a better way to run into her. He shakes his head and catches up with his friends, momentarily turning behind him to see if he's able to catch a glimpse of the canvas through the crowd of students.

Y/n successfully makes it on time, she flies down into her seat after setting the canvas on the project table.

"Nice to see you all again." Her teacher begins, but Y/n tunes him out. As she relaxes into her chair she can't help but think back to the guy she rushed into, guilt fills her as she realized she never properly said sorry. She can't even recall what the guy looks like.

--

Later that day she walks around the flower shop, fixing up and watering some of the plants. It's so relaxing, she smiles at each one before moving on to the next. Soon the door swings open to a rowdy group of boys, all of them well over 6'0 as they leer over the shelves of flowers. She catches a bit of their conversation, "What do you think she would like? I know I fucked up, flowers will help, trust me. Girls eat that shit up." She rolls her eyes at that, continuing to care for the various flowers.

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of eyes catch her, they continue to lock onto her, even when she disappears into the backroom.

The boys ring the bell on the desk, a little too much and a little too rough. She licks her teeth in annoyance as she steps out to the checkout counter. There's about 4 of them and she'd rather be buried alive than have to talk to them. It's unbelievably intimidating as they stare at her while she's checking out the bouquet of flowers they settled on.

"That'll be $15.99." She mutters, looking up and making eye contact with one of them. His eyes are intense, but not in the same way as the others. She feels hooked, almost like she was lured into a trap. She gulps quietly before looking back down, putting away the money, and offering them change.

"Have a nice day and come again." She says, the last part coming out as they stare at each other once more. They only look away after the door opens and closes again. She's not sure if he looks back at her because she turns and zips into the backroom.

Friday, finally. She doesn't have school today, she only works. Her shift doesn't start until 4.

So, until then, she sits and does nothing. It's wonderful, she adores laying on her couch with her cats. Today was a bit different though, the stranger's eyes appeared in her head at every turning corner. It brought along a wave of goosebumps and quick heartbeats. Y/n has no idea why she's so drawn to him, but she is and it has completely blindsided her.

"Alright guys, I'll be home soon enough." Is said to her cats, more for herself honestly. Her shift went per usual, the people were back to being polite, no rowdy men who are incredibly enticing.

The next day, though, was unusual.

The bells she adores chime and ring as she enters the shop, checking in and greeting Marleen, the store owner. "Anything interesting happen recently?" Y/n asks, trying to make conversation as she gets out the watering can for the flowers. Marleen walks behind the cash register as she thinks, "Kind of, a man came in here and walked around for a little bit the other day, didn't buy anything, and then sat outside on the bench for another 10 minutes before leaving."

Y/n furrows her eyebrows, "That's strange." The conversation ends there as she goes to the back of the green house outside and fills up the can, dragging it back and watering the flowers.

An hour or two goes by before a few people come in, she's snipping some of the leaves as one of them gets her attention. The bell chimes once more behind her but she doesn't look. "Can I help you?" She asks, turning towards the man with a smile on her face. "Yes, would you happen to know anything about taking care of plants?"

She smiles brighter at that, "I do, whats the problem?"

"Well, my cactus is starting to turn a darker green or black color at the bottom and it's becoming softer. I'm not sure what to do." The man says, nibbling his lip. Y/n nods before asking, "How often do you water it per week?"

The man raises his eyebrows, "I water it everyday, is that bad?"

She hums, "There's your issue, root rot. Since it's the spring you only need to water it about every 10 days, that should clear it up. If the rot is more severe you might need to repot and re-soil it."

"I see, thank you so much!" She smiles as they part ways, she goes back to snipping the last of the leaves before retreating back to the backroom to drop off the scissors and then to the counter, waiting for anyone to check out. She spaces out for a second before noticing someone walking up to the front of the counter.

"Hello, did you find everything okay?" She spews off automatically before looking up, seeing it's the man from the other day. Not the loud, obnoxious one, the one with the intense blue eyes.

He softly smiles, "I did." His voice is deep, but inviting and easy to listen to. She grabs the small potted succulent he placed onto the counter before grabbing the scanner and scanning the bottom. She catches his outfit, a black baggy t-shirt and acid-wash black jeans. The simpleness only added to his overall appeal.

"You sure know a lot about plants." He starts, smiling at her. "You must have a lot at home."

She laughs before telling him the price, "I don't actually, I have cats so y'know." She smiles while the man swipes his card, "It'll ask you if you want to add a tip and then you can sign." She says, regarding the card reader. He nods before tapping it a few times and dragging his finger along the screen.

"You look like the type to have cats." He says as he puts his card away, "Is that bad?" Y/n lightly teases. He shakes his head no, "Not at all, it's cute."He says, momentarily reading her name tag. "I'll be sure to come back and ask you for advice if anything happens ." Her heart practically stops in her chest as she laughs, "I'll be expecting you, have a nice day."

"You too, Y/n."

She swallows, watching him leave. "Oh my god." She whispers, she could fill out a diary about him and they only just met. So, thats exactly what she does.

When she returns home, she makes a B-line for the new pocket-sized sketchbook she recently bought. She flips past the drawings of flowers and settles on an empty page. Getting out a pencil and drawing the one thing she remembers the most, his eyes. The intensity of them, his brow bone, she makes sure she incorporates the way they make her feel as well. She even busts out her colored pencils for the blue of his irises.

She would feel embarrassed if she didn't feel a physical feeling before drawing his eyes, her fingers tingle as she draws them, again and again. They stain page after page, some colored, some not. But they all make her feel the same way. When she deems it out of her system for the time being, she checks her clock, stunned to see it was way past 12:00.

But that's okay, the shop isn't open on Sundays.

Her dreams that night were surreal, she fell into his eyes, literally, like they were a hurricane, they swirled her further and further into him. She drowned in his eyes and wouldn’t mind if she did in real life too. When she awakes, there's a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. That day she tries her best to get into her homework and not the alluring customer from her job. At one point she spaces off and doodles along the sides of her psychology homework, it lasts a few moments before she realized what she drew. The same pair of eyes that have been tormenting her, stare back from her homework.

"I'm going crazy." She mumbles, laying her head on the table. Y/n picks herself up after a minute or so. Scribbling down the answer to the last few problems, she throws the paper in her folder and sits down on her couch, chewing her thumbnail anxiously. She's not really sure what's going on with her, she doesn't even know his name. His eyes though, the way they stared at her, brought out a feeling like no other. She decides to occupy herself with tv until she goes to bed, she has art class tomorrow and is well aware of the homework her teacher assigns on Mondays.

—

Pulling into her parking space, she makes a mental note on the art supplies she has to buy. The faint thought of taking her drawings of him to the next level startle her. Is this creepy? She hopes not. It's truly addicting to think about him.

"Happy Monday, everyone. As you're probably expecting, I have an assignment for you." Sighs are heard through the class as he keeps going, "Next Monday you will turn in a painting on something that moves you. Doesn't matter what, but make it have meaning." He finishes. Y/n thinks for a moment about what she'd make, she can feel it at the back of her mind though. She doesn't have to really think that hard about it.

Her job was quiet, only two people came in during the 3 hours she's been there. Her shift ends in 10 minutes and she's excited to pick up some new art supplies, creativity is fresh on her mind, it has the tips of her fingers tingle. So much so, she grabs a pad of paper and a pencil and gets to practicing the same pair of eyes she's come to perfect.

The bells chime and she lets out a "Welcome in." As she usually does. She doesn't look at the door as she shades in the pupil of the eye, she can already see his likeliness shining through the paper. She continues adding details to his eyebrows as she senses something.

"Wow, that's amazing." A deep voice says from over her shoulder. Y/n jumps about 6 feet in the air and just barely keeps in her squeal of terror. He stands back and chuckles, "Didn't mean to scare you, you okay?" He asks, putting a comforting hand on her back.

"Oh yea, I'm fine. And thank you." She tries her best to seem not panicky and caught red handed.

"Can I see it?" He asks her, nodding towards the pad of paper. Okay, now it's time to panic. She can't say no, that would be off putting. Maybe he won't notice the resemblance? She inhales, "Sure, here." She scoots over the paper to him. Her heart stutters in her chest and her palms grow clammy the longer he stares at it.

"These seem familiar." He pauses, she could honestly throw up right now, this can't be happening. "I can't put my finger on it."

She exhales, relief settling over her shoulders as he moves back to the front of the small counter, she shuffles the paper onto the shelf below the register, hoping he doesn't connect any dots.

"I actually came here to ask you something. I'm in botany right now and it's not looking too good for me, I saw how good you are with plants, so I was wondering if you would tutor me? ." Y/n widens her eyes, what did she do in her past life to be rewarded like this?

"Oh, yea, I can do that. When are you free?" She's dreamed about asking him that, different context though, usually it's after he declares his love for her and wants to get married. Tutoring is good too though.

"I'm not working at the moment so any time that works for you probably works for me." He smiles, the motion adds a matching expression to her own face.

"Tomorrow at 6:00?"

"Perfect, does my place work? I'll give you my number." He tells her, waiting eagerly for her to reply.

"I can do that, and here." She grabs her phone from her back pocket. Passing it to him, her bottom lip becomes trapped under her front teeth. Their fingers brush against each other’s as he takes the device from her. Y/n swallows, glancing everywhere but him as he continues. "Here." He passes it back to her, he even put in his name. "Anakin." She states looking up at him. There's a gleam in his eyes, she's not sure what it is but it's accompanied by a teasing smile.

"That's me. Well, I just came here to run that by you, thank you again. I'll talk to you later?" He leans on his hands that are flat on the counter, not so subtly towering over her. The intensity in his eyes comes swooping back as she looks up at him. They trace her very being and it feels like she's forgotten how to breathe.

"I'll make sure to text you after my shift." She smiles at him to the best of her ability, it's hard though, she feels like the only person in the world as he looks at her. It's not a bad feeling, not at all, it makes her feel warm and special.

"I'll be looking forward to it." He let's her know as he walks to the door, turning around to speak to her.

When he leaves and is out of her line of sight, she crumbles. Y/n sits down behind the counter to catch her breath. Her face probably looks like a tomato right now, but she doesn't mind-Y/n has bigger problems. Like having to text him. What should she say?

'Hi' sounds too uninterested.

'Hello' sounds too formal.

'Hey' sounds too much.

She decides she'll cross that bridge when she gets there, she has another hour behind the counter before she can leave.

Turns out, that hour was pure agony. She spaced out the entire time and it STILL felt like years. But, it's bittersweet. As she sits in her car, face lit by the screen of her phone, the empty message bar sits there, she's typed nothing. Y/n knows she's being dramatic, so she huffs and types against her will.

"Hey, this is Y/n."

Then she basically throws her phone into the passenger seat and takes off. The volume of the radio blasts as she grips the steering wheel with a new found urgency.

Just when she opens her door she remembers the supply store. "Goddamnit." She swears she'll go tomorrow.

"Hi, Babies." She greets her cats as they hang around her legs.

It's not very late so she decides to start on her art project. She has a closet full of canvas', so she flips through them. What would make Anakin's eyes pop the most? Y/n doesn't know why she does this to herself, but she picks the biggest one she owns. This time, though, if it rips, she might attack somebody.

She lays the canvas out on her floor, an array of different black and gray pencils sit around her.

She closes her eyes for a moment, visualizing earlier that day. How his eyes pierced her, how he looked down at her. Blindly, she searches for a pencil. The feel of it on her fingers felt amazing, she cracks open her eyes and gets to work. His eyes fill the entire thing in no time and she feels whole. It didn't take long for her to fully sketch out everything, as she gazes at her newest obsession, it sends a jolt of electricity down her back. She breathes before picking up her phone, lungs soon deflating as she sees a text.

'Thought you forgot about me for a second haha'

She spots the time it was sent, 1 hour ago.

She scrambles to open the message app and type actual words.

'I could never and sorry by the way. I was working on my art project, it really cuts me off from the world lol'

He responds a second later;

'You really are a tortured artist lol'

'Here's my address by the way-->'

Y/n knows she'll have to put that into her gps, she's not the best with directions.

'Thanks, I'll be there at 6. Make sure you have the homework you're struggling with and the class textbook'

'I gotchu'

The conversation ends there, she can finally breathe.

School was, well, school, nothing ever happens in her math or english classes. Per usual, her job was the most exciting part of her day that didn't involve Anakin.

So, when she leaves work and heads to the supply store, she picks up the right paint and decides if she needs more brushes or not. As she tosses them in her backseat, she checks the time on her phone, "You have to be kidding me." She grumbles, 5:50. Her fingers quickly punch in his address before she's pulling out of the parking lot. He lives about 15 minutes away and it makes her kind of want to drive off the bridge she's currently driving over.

She speeds the entire way there, thankfully arriving 13 minutes later instead of 15.

In her scrambled state she forgets who's door she's knocking on for a moment, the fear of being late taking over her mind completely. So when Anakin opens the door she grips the wall beside her for support. "Well well, seems you're about 14 minutes late, tsk tsk." He teases as he holds the door open for her.

"I'm so sorry, I had to run to the store to get more paint." She offers, slipping her shoes off.

"Art project you were talking about last night?' Anakin asks, closing the door. Y/n nods, muttering a 'Yea'.

"When am I gonna be able to see it? If it's taking so much of your time it must be good."

Her eyes widen, he wasn't able to decipher the quick sketch at her job, but he would absolutely tell with her painting. She tries to hide her panic, "Maybe if you pass botany." She teases, following him to wherever he's set up at. They come up to his dining room table, papers and textbooks are arranged nicely, it makes her smile.

He takes a seat and pats the one next to him, "C'mon Ms. Artist. Tell me about plants."

She giggles as they begin.

Everything is going well, he's getting questions right and seems fairly knowledgeable on the topic.

"Are you sure you need help? You're doing great, I could hire you at my shop." He gives her a shrug and a laugh, the topic shifting to normal conversation after a little.

"You have two cats?" He asks, body facing her as he leans on an arm.

"Yup, Cherry and Bear, both pieces of my heart." She expects him to laugh at her for saying that, poke fun at her for caring so much for them. But he smiles, "That's cute, I can't lie. Do you have any pictures?" Y/n almost misses his question, her ears still perked up at his compliment.

"Oh, uh, yea." She grabs her phone in her back pocket, swiping through her pictures until she lands on one. Cherry lays on her chest while Bear sits behind her, his head pressed up against the side of her face. It still warms her heart looking at it.

As she shows him the photo, she gauges his reaction. A moment passes. "Wow, that's so cute" He's mumbles, drinking in the photo as she pulls it away, "I know right, they both have such cute faces."

"Oh yea, your cats are cute too."

She laughs at that, trying to not let his obvious flirting ruin her composure right now. As Y/n stares at the photo, the time in the corner of the device catches her attention. "I should go, it's getting late." She says softly, stacking the papers they went over, neatly. She stands and pushes the chair in, until a hand comes up to hers, stopping her from getting too far.

"When are you free again?"

"What, you wanna talk about my cats some more?" She laughs, soon looking up at him again as he stands. The hand on hers doesn't move, only squeezes for a second. A laugh leaves him as he looks away for a moment, a smile present on his face

"No tutoring this time, I was wondering if you just wanted to hang out? No plants."

Her eyebrows raise, "Oh, seriously?"

"If you don't want to thats okay-"

"No!..no, I, that would be nice." She stutters out, swallowing. The hand on hers maneuvers so they're hands are interlocked. She would've peaked down if not for the way he was looking at her. It's like a switch for him honestly, the intensity in his eyes flood back and she has to remind herself to stand correctly.

Anakin sucks in his bottom lip as he stares at her face, soon settling on her lips. He takes the first step, backing her into his table. Their fingers split apart as he leans his hands on the edges of the furniture, blocking her in. "I honestly can't get enough of you, each time I see you it's not enough." He whispers against her parted lips, his right hand coming up to cradle her waist.

"Anakin." She breathes heavily.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, lips brushing against hers.

Y/n gulps, nodding as she gazes at his eyes then lips.

He doesn't wait a second before connecting with her skin, gently, lightly. The kiss progresses, the last hand on the table drifts to the base of her neck, loosely gripping the skin. Y/n seriously can't get over how big he is, he's so broad and tall. She feels like he could swallow her up with ease and it has her knees weakening.

They eventually drift apart, lingering near each other until he backs up and lets her out of his cage.

"Here." He mumbles, grabbing her hand and leading her to where her shoes sat. She slips them on without tying them.

"Text me when you get home?" Anakin asks, leaning his hand against his door frame as she stands on his porch. A soft chuckle escapes her, "Sure." Before she goes, he leans in, placing a hand on her cheek and leaving a sizzling goodbye kiss on her lips.

"Bye."

After letting him know she got home safe, she pretty much passed out, she's never been through so much in such a short period of time.

She wakes up to a few texts, and each and everyone of them drive her teeth deeper into her, poor, bottom lip.

'Good morning'

"I had a lot of fun last night'

'What are your classes today?'

Y/n composes herself as best she can before replying.

'Good morning! I had a lot of fun too, more than I've had in awhile'

"And I have two classes, psych and geometry’

The bubbles appear and she turns off her phone, closing her eyes and squealing.

'Do you wanna meet up sometime this week? if you're busy thats okay i totally get it'

She giggles at his rambling.

'I'd love to see you, is Friday okay?'

'Friday's great, wanna grab lunch? I'll pick you up'

"Sounds fun, see you then<3'

Was the heart too much? She doesn't know, it felt right in the moment. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if this was another one of her dreams, they're a little too convincing for her liking.

To say the week went slowly is an understatement. But, she has made good progress on her drawing, the vivid blues she used brought out his eyes incredibly. She traced the dried shadows casted onto the skin of his eyelids with her finger, she knew she was fucked.

Friday rolled around, it weighed on her psyche like a brick. Soon, though, the crippling anticipation would be over.

She scanned herself over in the mirror, "You got this, it's just the dude you're infatuated with who likes you back." Saying it out loud did not help, infact, the need to throw up starting growing. Y/n chugged some water before getting the text.

'I'm outside'

She inhaled and said her goodbyes to her cats, shakily closing the apartment door behind her. From the lobby she could spot a black car parked right in front of the stairs, she hoped it was his. It would be really awkward if she opened it and it wasn’t Anakin. Thankfully, though, it was. "Hey" He greeted, leaning his elbow on the center console, eyeing her closely.

"Where we goin?" Y/n asked, buckling in her seatbelt after she shut the door. He made a thoughtful face before saying the name of a cafe place he wanted to try. Her interested was piqued. The drive there made her giggle, the music he was playing made it very..obvious he was a college student. "What?" He asked, turning to her for a second before watching the road again, a matching smile on his face.

"You listen to fuck boy music." She pressed her hand lightly over her mouth as she laughed harder.

A look of faux offense struck his face as he let out an incredulous scoff. "Fuck boy music?" His astounded voice made the situation all the more funny, her stomach even started hurting from laughing so much. "Wow.." He murmured, chuckling some more. He bit his lip and shook his head. After that it was much easier to talk to him, he was easy to converse with surprisingly.

"What drink did you get?” He asks, taking a bite from his bagel. “An iced matcha latte with a shot of vanilla and vanilla sweet cold foam.”

He blinks at her, “Bless you.”

She laughs before taking another sip of her drink, a lock of her hair loosens from behind her ear and hangs in front of her eye. Anakin doesn’t waste a second before his hand is coming up to loop it back in place.

Y/n raises her eyebrows at his eagerness, "What? Couldn't have anything blocking that face of yours." The drink coming up her straw slowly goes back down as she freezes. A blush she hopes isn't as bad as she thinks it is, takes over her face and ears. She's really not used to a guy being this way with her. Anakin watches her, amused, he loves the way she reacts to his advances.

"What time is it? My shift starts at 4." She remembers, playing with her straw.

"2:04."

"I got time, what do you wanna do?" She wonders as he stands up and grabs the paper his bagel came with, throwing it away as they walk out. "Good question, do you wanna go back to your place?" It's an innocent enough question but she raises her eyebrows anyway, teasing him.

"Oh don't give me that look." He smiles, putting an arm around her shoulders. Leaning into her ear he says lowly, "Don't tell me you're already thinking dirty thoughts. You're so cute." His words paired with his tone, the proximity, his arm, and the intoxicating way his lips and breath brush against her ears are too much for her. "Ladies first." He says, back to his smiley self as he opens the passenger door for her.

The way back could be both worse and better at the same time. He rests a hand on her clothed thigh, he doesn't move it, but it's there, and she's acutely aware of it. It singes her skin even through her jeans. Y/n swears he's out for blood right now, she can feel her heart and it's not looking good.

As she unlocks her apartment door, she wouldn't be surprised if she just dropped dead right there.

Her cats, like always, meet her at the door, tails flicking, and cute meows spewing at random moments. Anakin's in awe as he crouches down, letting the animals smell his hands. "They're so cute."

She giggles at his expression, hanging up her purse.

Her cats warm up to him pretty fast, Bear flips over, his furry stomach on display for them both. Anakin gets his cat fix before moving on to her living room. "Very cozy, Ms. Tortured Artist." He jokes, taking a seat on the couch. Y/n laughs, finding the remote, "Oh, please. I swear everyone thinks I'm such an open book."

"That's probably because you are." He smiles, leaning back and manspreading.

"Okay then, guess something about me." She challenges, forgetting the remote to turn and face his smug expression. "Hmm." He looks up at her ceiling in thought before making an 'o' shape with his mouth, "I bet your room is either beige or pink, no in between." Her mouth opens a bit, he actually got it right. Her bedsheets are pink, maybe she is an open book.

"Well, fuck. You got me, it's pink." She laughs, shrugging.

"Of course it is, can I see it? I don't see too many adults with pink rooms." He plays it off, acting like he's completely innocent in this. Y/n nods, standing up to venture down the hallway. She creeks the door open, her lips pursed as she showed him the pink room he completely guessed right on.

"Wow, cute room. I bet you bring all the guys here, hm?" He teases, sitting on the edge of her bed, he pats the space next to him. "You're an ass." Y/n mumbles, sitting next to him. He leans over a bit, "I might be, do you have a problem with that?' He leans in more, scooting over even. He's close again like he was at his house that day.

She shakes her head, her spine tingling at the sensation of his hand wandering to her thigh. It caresses it, almost luring her she feels like. "Good." Is the last thing she hears before he kisses her again. They both lose themselves in the intimate act, need coming from both sides. It gets heavy quickly, a hand is placed around her back, pulling them closer together, the hand on her thigh has migrated to her ass.

Crash!

Anakin was honestly just going to power through it, the feel of her so eager to touch him sent him spiraling. But, of course, she pulls away.

"Give me one moment, okay?" Y/n pants against his lips, an apologetic smile already on her face. He nods, smacking her ass when she gets up. He closes his eyes and breathes, later opening them to glance around her room. It makes him feel something as he takes in the cutesy stuff around him, and that something shoots down to his jeans as they tighten ever so slightly. Stuffed animals littered her pink bed, her desk next to it had cute little stationary sets, random figurines, and a little notebook. He's not sure why it catches his attention but it does, the latch to keep it closed piqued his interest. So, without thinking, he leans for it, swiping it from the table.

The leather rubs against his warm fingertips as he unlatches it, flipping to the first page. "Predictable." He smiles, little sketches of flowers are sprinkled through out it, and the page after it. Just as he gets to the third page she walks in, immediately eyeing her demise in his hands. She snatches it from his hands the second he lays his eyes on, well, his eyes.

"You're so nosy." She laughs it off like she didn't feel her heart lurch in her chest.

"Sorry." He pauses, leaning back to look at her. A new mood swirling through his eyes, new to her at least.

"You really like drawing those eyes, huh?" He smiles, watching as she sits back next to him. "You could say that." She responds, hoping he drops it. He, thankfully, lets go of what he saw, eyeing her on her cute pink bed, the blush on her cheeks, and the timid look on her face. It’s so alluring. “Don't you think you're a little far away?" Anakin asks, ready to tackle her.

"I'm right next to you, our knees are touching."

"Yea, well, I could think of some other things I'd like to be touching other than our knees." He mumbles, loud enough for her to hear. He gazes at her face with an unbreaking stare. Scooting closer, he leans in to graze her ear with his lips.

"Seeing you all shy and blushy on your pretty pink bed really turns me on, if I'm being honest." His voice an octave lower. A moment later he stands up, a teasing smile on his face. "It's 3:10, you should get ready for work." Y/n looks at him with huge eyes, her fists still clenching the sheets under her. She nods, eyes going everywhere before landing on her lap—her mind trying to rationalize what just happened.

"Oh, right." Need has settled in her stomach, it swirls inside her as she walks past him to her closet. Her work uniform was neatly hung up like usual.

"Wow, do I get a show?" Anakin asks, amused as he takes a seat back on her bed. Y/n playfully scoffs, laying her clothes on her bed before taking his hand and guiding him through her house. "Are you kicking me out, Cutie? I thought we had something special." He jokes, putting on his shoes. "You're so annoying." She laughs, opening the door when he's done. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Gotta make sure you don't miss me too much."

"Okay, okay, get out." She laughs again, Anakin puts his arms up in faux defense as he laughs along. "I'll see you later, Cutie." He takes ahold of her chin, guiding their lips together. The kiss is definitely more than a peck, it leaves her wanting more as he pulls away. He offers her a wink before leaving down her building's hallway.

After closing the door, she slides down it. Face pressed into her knees. Images of what happened only minutes prior race through her mind, momentarily stunning her. She's never been so attracted to someone in her life. But, in love or not, she must get to work. As she's undressing to change into her uniform, she can't help but to let her mind wander. What if she did 'give him a show'?, she knows the feeling of his hands against her bare skin would be intoxicating. His already sinful mouth would be hair-raising.

Goosebumps graze over her arms and stomach as she slips on her shirt and tugs on her pants. The entire way there and her entire shift was endured with a heavy heart. She was wrapped so tightly around his finger already. The vulnerability of it all was scary though, she fell so hard and so fast. Yet, she didn't worry too much about it.

That night she lay awake. Skimming her fingers over her lips, replaying the kisses he's shared with her. A warm feeling fills her chest and abdomen as she closes her eyes. Pressing her face into the pillow as she smiles.

—

“Hey, listen, I was wondering if you’d like to come to my game next weekend.” Anakin says, he called her only a moment ago and, obviously, she picked up pretty fast.

“You play sports?” It really wasn’t that surprising, whenever he wore short sleeves his biceps would strain against the material, she could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

“Yea, I play football. I’d love if you came, seeing you there would be great.”

“Sounds fun, I haven’t gone to a football game since I was in high school.” She murmurs into the phone, sitting cross-cross on her floor alongside her painting.

“Well, then you probably don’t know that you’ll need to wear a cheer costume, preferably a size smaller or two.” He teases, jokingly trying to convince her. A laugh comes from her and he can picture her smile.

“Is that so? I’m not sure either of us would enjoy my ass hanging out infront of the entire school.” She chuckles, spinning her brush in the jar of water next to her, soon drying it off on a rag.

“You’re right, you should cheer me on in a more..secluded place, like my bedroom.”

“You’re too much, Anakin.” She pauses for a moment, voice becoming softer as she continues. “I’ll be there, text me what time and stuff, okay?” The man on the other end smiles, “Of course, also. I don’t have a picture of you for your contact, could you send me that one you took of you and your cats you showed me the other day?”

Her eyebrows raise, he was oddly specific. “Sure, why that one specifically?” She wonders aloud, dipping her brush into some of the paint lightly.

“I love that picture of you, I told you I thought you were cute in it.” His deep chuckle has her hand momentarily stalling.

“I thought you were just being horny, if I’m being honest.” She confesses, breathy laugh escaping her.

“Me? Horny? Absolutely not.” Anakin teases, sitting up in his bed. “I will say though, could you blame me? You do something to me, Y/n. It’s difficult not touching you at all times.” He confesses, rubbing his neck with his free hand.

“What, do you like me or something?” She could only think of a limited amount of responses. The topic of sex and all things related stunned her a bit, she wasn’t a virgin but that didn’t mean she was used to his advances or forwardness. She heard his low laugh from the line and laid her brush on the rag for the time being.

“You have no idea, it’s honestly a miracle we’ve made it this far. We haven’t even had sex yet and you’re still keeping up with me. It means a lot.” The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.

“Does that not usually happen?” She wonders if it’s too much to ask, but she’s curious. He sighs before answering.

“I don’t have the best..track record with relationships. I feel like sometimes all people boil me down to is sex, so, it’s refreshing that we haven’t done anything yet and you still wanna hang out with me.” His answer honestly made her wanna cry, she couldn’t imagine being used in such a way—multiple times.

"I'm so sorry. If it means anything, that's probably the last thing I'd ever do. I know I don't show my feelings much...but I really like you. It kinda scares me honestly." She held her breath at the confession, scared of what he'll reply with.

"Yea? You like me? What do you like about me exactly?" And there he was, back to his old teasing self. Y/n laughs loudly at his sudden change in tone.

"Do you actually want a list?" She smiles, absentmindedly grabbing her brush and twirling it in the dark-colored water.

"Oh absolutely, lay it on me, Cutie."

"Hmm, well, I really like how forward you are. You saying you'd like to see me and stuff, the guys I've dated in the past tried to be all cool and anti-feelings. It's nice knowing what you're thinking."

"How could I ever hide how I feel about you?" He sighed, running a hand through his sandy curls.

"Plus, it really helps that you're sexy." She had to say it, it had to be known. It was the truth, she couldn't be blamed. Anakin snorts at that.

"You're so cute, I just wanna pinch your cheeks." He teases, goofy smile on his face.

The call, unfortunately, ends a little after that. She has one day to finish the painting, it only needed some final touches so she was happy tomorrow was Sunday.

Said day went nicely. She finished the painting completely and couldn't be happier with it. She honestly doesn't know how she did it but she truly encompassed Anakin onto the canvas. Looking at it brought a warm feeling to her body, it swam from her heart, to her stomach, and to her limbs.

--

"Alright, there are two piles. One is the normal turn in pile, and the other is the turn in pile for the University’s art show next Friday night. Now, I will warn you, not everyone who enters will be in the show. We are looking for the best the class has to offer, if you don't get picked that's okay. There will always be more."

Y/n thinks heavily about her decision, she can't possibly pass up an opportunity like this. So, she breathes and adds it to the art show pile. She tries her best to not dwell on it too much, she knows if she overthinks she'll end up panicking and changing her decision. The teacher tells them their homework for the week, but it's nothing to fret over. Because this project was so big he only asked for some simple sketches and drawings.

By the time she makes it out of class her phone pings, an email. Apparently, her teacher for her last class of the day is sick so class is cancelled. She shrugs mentally and decides to head to the library. Her shift doesn't start for a hot minute and she could get some homework done.

She adores the library, especially this one table. It's more towards the back, it's cut off by thick shelves, little to no distraction. It's perfect for homework.

As she walks, she feels her shoulders lift. The painting hanging over her head was done. The obsession with Anakin's eyes painted into reality, it was done. A small smiles lifts her lips as she opens the door to the building the library is located in. The shelves blur together as she walks passed them, they tower over her as usual. The place is fairly empty, aside from one or two students.

She gets closer to the table and crosses her fingers, hoping it's empty. Y/n sighs in relief as she sees it vacant. Sitting in her usual seat, she sets down her backpack and drags out her computer.

Unexpectedly, her phone pings again. This time it isn't an email.

'what class are you in rn?'

Y/n smiles, giddly typing a reply.

'class was cancelled, im doing some homework in the library. it's so quiet in here it’s great’

She leaves it at that, not expecting anything to come from it. So, she plugs in her headphones and shuffles her playlist. Beginning to type her homework. Her head bops to the beat until a pair of hands squeeze her shoulders. It makes her jump, she's honestly not sure if she made a sound or not, her music was a little too loud. She tugs out the earplugs, knowing the culprit already.

"Anakin, you scared me." She breathes, smile on her face as she places a hand on her chest.

"That was kinda the point." He teases, sitting in the seat beside her. "Whatchya working on?"

"My English essay, do you not have a class right now?"

"Technically, it's not a mandatory day. Plus, I'd rather be here with you." He flirts, grabbing her hand that rests on the table. "I missed you."

She can't take her eyes off of him as he tells her that. "I missed you too." Soon, he's nodding at her headphones. "What're you listening to?"

"Oh, Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, it's one of my favorite songs." She passes him one of the earbuds and restarts it.

As she continues typing her essay, they're both quiet, listening to the love song. Anakin's eyes trail up her arm, to her concentrated face, his eyes soften as he takes her in. The song adding a loving theme song to what he was feeling. She was so close to him, a mere few inches. His hand reaches out to graze her arm, skin free due to the short sleeved shirt she was wearing. It brought comfort to him that he could reach out and know she was there.

Y/n's eyes flick to him at the touch, meeting his gaze quickly.

It's silent between them, the look he's giving her would've probably had her in the hospital a week ago. She's able to keep looking at him now, even through his intense stare. Electricity crackles in the air around them, nothing else matters. Nothing else could matter.

His hand doesn't leave her upper arm as he leans in, romantically connecting their lips. The chorus starts up once again, it's fuel for the desire being poured from them. They push together harder, wanting to be one. The only reason they split is for air. But, the need for closeness is still alive and well. So, he scoots closer, wrapping her in a hug. He mumbles something in her hair, but she doesn’t hear it. The sound of their breathing and heartbeats is the only thing heard after that until Y/n speaks up.

"Do you wanna go to an art show next Friday night with me?" Her voice is quiet, almost like he'd run away if she was too loud.

Pulling away enough to look into her eyes, he answers. "Of course, I'd go anywhere with you."

--

That week they met up a few times, sometimes at school, and sometimes at random restaurants for a date. Anakin was sure he was losing his mind, he's never felt such a way for someone. He was falling for her, very hard and very fast.

After their meet up at the library, Y/n had an idea. Thinking back to when they were on the phone, what if she did wear a cheer costume. Obviously not to the game, but they could celebrate afterward. She wanted to be closer to him, needed the feeling of him. She knew Anakin wanted that too, so she was ready to make it memorable. She orders the skimpy costume off of Amazon and checks that it'll be there before Friday night.

So, when Friday morning rolls around and it ends up in her mailbox she's more than ready for what's to come.

"You're picking me up right?" She asks over the phone, the device is on speaker as she gets undressed, ready to put on the costume under her normal clothing.

"Yea..why do you sound so far away?"

"Oh, sorry. You're on speaker, I'm changing right now." It's not her intention but she'll know Anakin'll get a kick out of that.

"Are you now?"

Then, an incredibly erotic idea falls into her head. As she speaks to Anakin she snaps a picture of herself, she's not wearing anything but the photo stops right above her breasts. They were still very noticeable so she could tease him perfectly. A pout is settled on her face as her hair frames the seductive expression. She sends it and keeps talking like nothing nefarious is happening behind the scenes.

When he stops talking she does too, a smirk making its way onto her face. "Something wrong, Ani?" She's never used the nickname before, but it feels like the right moment to start.

"Fuck, Y/n. You're gonna kill me. I want you so fucking bad, oh my god." His voice is deep and strained.

She ignores the way her body reacts to that as she replies, "Whe are you gonna be here? I miss you."

"Mm, I miss you too, I'll be there in an hour. Be ready for me, yea?” The double meaning of his words tingles up her spine.

--

She checks herself over in the mirror, the small two piece barely covered anything. Her cleavage couldn't be on more of a display, especially since she paired it with her favorite push-up bra. The small, red, pleated skirt didn't even cover half of her ass, and she paired that with a matching lace thong.

The text that he was waiting for her outside came sooner than she expected so she threw on some baggy clothes and grabbed her things. Making her way to him.

Shocking to nobody, once she sat in his passenger seat he was on her. Hand on her neck as he pressed a searing kiss on her welcoming lips. It would've gone on longer if she didn't remind him of where they were going.

"You're so lucky my game saved you, I don't think I could've held myself back after that photo you sent." He threatened, pulling out of the parking lot. "Don't threaten me with a good time." She replies, taking his free arm into both of hers. She practically hugged him the entire way there.

"You wait in the stands for me, okay? I'll be looking for you." Anakin said, closing the gap between them again.

"Good luck."

--

As she sat on the lowest bench of the stand, a chill ran up her spine at the thought of what was going to happen once the game was over. The feeling tripled as she spotted him. The look on his face causing a blush to grow on her cheeks.

The game started soon after that, she never really paid attention to sports, so she didn't really know what was going on. She knew enough to get her by, though. She watched him closely, watched as he bulldozed the opposing players. He was one of the tallest on the team so he stood out well. It was unbelievably hot, she couldn't deny the way her thighs clenched together. She was more than ready for the game to be over.

During one of the breaks, he jogs up to the fence next to the stairs of the stands. Calling her over with a nod and a smile. His helmet hung on one of his fingers as he waited for her. "You're doing great." She tells him, smiling proudly.

"It's all because of you, my love." He lightly pants, leaning over the fence to kiss her. Though he tastes like sweat, she didn't mind. The opposite actually, it turned her on even more. And when they split he could see the gleam in her eyes. "As soon as I win this thing we can get outta here, how does that sound?" He moved his damp curls from his face as he spoke, it added to his undeniable sex appeal.

"Sounds good, I'll wait at the car for you afterward." Her hand reaches out to rub at his sticky biceps.

He nods before giving her one last kiss and running back to the field. She gulps, hands sweaty as she sits back down. No doubt having some eyes on her after all that.

She watches him again, this time he's carrying the ball to the other side of the field. The final touchdown of the night. He wins for their team and everyone there loses their mind. Anakin's team surges towards him in awe, she could hardly hear her own thoughts as everyone around her screams and yells. She's immensely proud of him , the need to congratulate him was strong at that point. She realizes though, with everyone jumping around her, she can't see the field. So, she stands on the bench and searches for him. A large smile on her face as she spots him. Watching him so happy made her heart flutter.

As she watches the teams leave the field she clambers down from the bench and makes a B-line for his car. She isn't waiting for long as he tries his best to get through the crowd. The second they meet he's engulfing her smaller frame, her arms wrap around his neck as they kiss probably for the 20th time that day. He's sweaty under the clothes he changed back into, it only makes her wanna take them off.

Anakin presses her back into his car's door, momentarily forgetting where they are. Y/n taps his shoulder as the sound of people talking get closer.

"You did amazing, I'm so proud of you." She praises, pressing another kiss on him.

"All thanks to you, my good luck charm. Do you wanna head outta here?" He smiles, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. She nods before slipping out from under him and getting in the passenger side, telling him to drive to her place. The ride there was pure tension, she played with his calloused hands and praised him more as they neared closer and closer to her building. Neither of them addressed the very obvious pent-up sexual tension suffocating them. Opting for letting it grow--thrive. It would pay off in a matter of time.

Her shutting the apartment door behind her signaled for Anakin to throw his self-control out of the window. He walked her backward with tight hands on her waist as they made out through her apartment, trying to get to her bedroom. Once there, he plants a firm hand on her chest and pushes her down to her bed. The sight of her looking up at him, waiting for him to please her caused more blood to navigate south within him.

“Ever since I saw your cute little room I wanted to do this. Wanted to take you in the most disgusting way possible, see you sob against your pink sheets, all because of me.” He confessed, lowering himself to hover over her.

She couldn’t deny the way that made her feel, all of her ex’s made her feel like a dumb child when they saw her room. So she felt her panties dampen and her thighs rub together at his words. Anakin smirks when he notices the movement. “You like that, Cutie? You like when I talk to you like that?” He leans in to kiss her, cutting off her answer. His skillful tongue licks into her mouth, practically going down her throat the harder he becomes. The kiss is ended with a harsh suck to her tongue.

The man above her continues his assault across her jawline and below her ear, where he begins to get messy with his kisses. He sucks and nibbles all the way down to her collarbones, where he deems she’s wearing too much clothing.

“Take off your shirt for me, Cutie.”

This is it, she gulps as she takes hold of the hem of her shirt and drags it off—showing off the top half of her skimpy cheer costume. He loudly sucks in a breath before pushing her chest back down to the bed and forcefully taking off her pants himself. He throbs in his jeans at seeing the entirety of what she’s wearing.

“What’s all this, baby?” He bites his lip, his hands roaming her exposed skin. A seductive grin takes ahold of his lips as he drinks her in.

“You said you needed a cheerleader, didn’t you?”

“Fuck.” He mumbles, gripping her knees to spread her legs accordingly. Anakin eyes the thong she’s wearing and makes a mental note to stuff them in his pant’s pocket when he gets them off of her. He slots himself in between her welcoming thighs, erection pressing hotly against her clothed cunt. The kisses that were stopped along her collarbones moments ago start up again, now more urgent.

“God, you’re so sexy. All mine too. My little cheerleader.” He breaths against her, making his way down to her cleavage. Nips and sucks are felt at the exposed skin of her breasts, her hips press upwards at that, wanting to feel him. The material of her shirt is pushed up over her bra, then hands snake up her spine to unclasp that too. She shimmies down the straps so he can throw the item behind him.

“I knew you’d have perfect tits.”

He doesn’t waste a second to lick around one of her nipples, taking it in his mouth after a second. A hand gropes the breast that isn’t in his mouth and the other is splayed over the side of her thigh, moving up to grab as much of her ass as it can.

“Anakin.” She moans, arching her back slightly. Her thighs clamp down around his waist, it feeds into the desire that’s beginning to take over his mind. He ruts his hips into her, both of them moaning at the contact. The smell of her arousal floats between both of them, it has him groaning before harshly thrusting against her. “Smell so good, gotta have a taste.” He pulls away, lowering to his knees before she stops him.

“Wait, Anakin. I can’t wait any longer, please—please, fuck me.”

His forehead meets her knee, his teeth pierce his lower lip as he shutters out a breath. “My little cheerleader is such a slut for me already, hm?”

The shirt that clung to his body is taken off, in the sexiest way possible, as well as his pants. Soon, he’s left in his boxers, his very obvious erection strains against the fabric. “Come here.” He grabs her waist as he slides onto the sheets, maneuvering her just the way he wants until she’s propped up on him. His back lays against her pillows as he slips her panties to the side, her leaking cunt pressed deliciously against his clothed cock.

“I can feel how fucking wet you are, is that all for me, Cutie?”

She tries to pay attention to him speak, but the sight of him, abs all sweaty below her, causes her brain to short circuit. “Don’t tell me you’re already all dumb for me.” He hotly stares at her, hand reaching out to grab her chin, making sure she’s looking him in the eye. “I asked you a question.”

She stares with wider hazy eyes, “It’s all for you, Ani. Need you so bad.” She whines, panting already.

He smirks at her state, loving the way she reacts to him. “Show me then, Cutie. Rub your wet little pussy on my cock and I might just fuck you with it.” His eyes are back to the intense ones she knows so well. But this time, he can visibly see how bad they affect her. Taking in a deep breath, she places her shaky hands on his abs before moving her hips. A gasp is heard pretty quickly due to how hard he is, she wonders if it hurts at all.

Weirdly, he finds it that much hotter how her skirt covers where they meet.

“There you go, keep going.” He praises, watching her with lidded eyes. Her head hangs low as she grinds a little harder.

“Fuck.” He rasps, moving his hands to her hips.

Her clit catches his head and ridges a few times and it’s enough to pull a pornographic moan from her. They’re full-on dry humping now, she can even see a wet patch start to grow on his briefs when she pulls up her skirt, it makes him salivate. “I can’t wait any longer.” He groans out, stopping her movements. A hand on her waist keeps her in place as he pushes down his briefs a few inches to grip a hand around himself. Pearls of pre cum ooze down his head and it has her gulping.

“Ready, Cutie?”

Y/n nods, tossing her head back as Anakin runs his cock through her folds before pressing into her. She’s so wet that in one push he’s filled her to the brim. “Anakin.” She weakly moans out, leaning her body forward to push him impossibly deeper inside her.

“Shit, you’re so tight and wet for me. Just like I knew you’d be.”

“You’ve thought of this before?” She asks, knowing the answer. She just wants to hear his dirty words some more. “Of course, I have. Jerked off to the idea of this cute little pussy so many times. You’re better than I imagined.” Her lips quiver at that, it propels her into raising her hips and slamming them down as fast as she’s able to at that moment. The stretch of him is making her delirious, an insatiable hunger taking over her.

“Just like that, Cutie. Doing so good for me.” The praise has her clenching around him. She tries her best to keep a good pace but it’s proving to be difficult, her thighs burn as her body forces her to slow down. The man under her takes notice and grips her waist, sitting up and laying her down beneath him.

He throbs inside of her impatiently, so he grabs her thighs and pushes them closer to her chest, both of them moan at the new angle. The way he’s now kissing her cervix has her turn to pure putty in his hands. “There you go, you’re my dumb little baby, aren’t you? Have I fucked you stupid?” He calls out, eyeing the way she reacts. A smirk finds it’s way on his face as she tries to answer but fails. The grip he has on her thighs tightens as he feels her clench, the fluttering doesn’t stop so he guesses she's close.

Her hand tip toes down to her clit to messily rub, she doesn’t care how or how fast, she just needs the stimulation.

“M’ gonna come.” She moans, tears welling in her eyes at his harsh pace and the words falling from his lips.

“Do it, Slut, come.” He growls, grinding his hips into hers. Anakin watches her face closely as she finishes around him, then he backs up to peak down at the way his cock fills her up to the brim.

“There you go.”

Y/n lazily smiles as he slows down to a stop.

“Don’t think I’m done with you, yet.” He tells her, pulling out to flip her over onto her stomach. His strong hands pull her ass up, pushing her legs apart with his knee. “You look so good like this, pussy ready for me.” His voice is low and gravelly, it has her dripping.

—

The next morning she awoke to the unusual smell of bacon. A hand splays out on the spot next to her, it’s cold. Cracking open an eye, she notices the bed is empty. “Anakin?” Her groggy voice asks to the open air. There’s no response so she pushes herself to her feet, noticing she’s in her panties and what looks like Anakin’s shirt.

Traversing through her apartment, she spots the kitchen and rubs her eyes. Anakin’s tussled hair and toned back was the first thing she saw, “Anakin?”

His ears perk up. Turning around, he smiles, “Good morning, about time you woke up. I was just about to come get you.” He walks over to her, settling his hands on her hips and placing a loving kiss to her cheek. “I made breakfast, go sit down.” He nods to the table. “I didn’t know you were so motherly.” She smiles, sitting down at a chair.

“Just for you.” He murmurs, getting out cups.

Eating breakfast beside him was odd, not in a bad way though. Waking up to him was truly the best feeling. “What time do you work today?” He asks, shoveling the last of his food in his mouth.

“Uhh 4, and tomorrow the shop isn’t open.”

“Oh, so I get you the whole day? I’m honored.” He says as they both get up to put dishes in the sink. Hands on the counter, she turns around to face him. He gladly leans in and traps her between him and the surface, the kiss they shared was sweet, it made her heart swell.

“I should go back to my place to get cleaned up. I’ll miss you.” He punctuates that with a kiss, or two, or three. She giggles in return, teasingly pushing him away as he goes back for more. “When I come back you better be in the same outfit, you look amazing in my clothes.” He leans into her ear to say, playfully nipping at her neck. “Anakin…” She laughs.

—

A few days have passed, Y/n sits at her desk doing her homework as she gets a call. She recognizes that it’s associated with her university. She answers it and her jaw drops. Her painting was accepted into the art show. She springs up from her bed and squeals when the call is over. The first thing she thinks of is telling Anakin, but, maybe it would be better if it was a surprise.

--

“Anakin it’s a school night.”

“We’re adults, Y/n. We’re not in middle school anymore, plus it’ll be fun.” He tries persuading her. Currently his friends and him are going to see a movie, it’s about 9:00 so Y/n is a little worried. She hums from over the phone in thought, “Fine, is your car even big enough for all of us?” She asks, playing with the strings of her sweat pants.

“I’ll pick you up and we’ll meet them there, don’t worry.” Y/n hums again.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

As he pulls up to her building, he can’t help but be nervous as well. His friends can be a little…intense, and he knows Y/n is the opposite of that. But he really wants his girlfriend and his friends to meet.

“Hey, Beautiful. I missed you.” He smiles, leaning in to leave a peck on her lips.

“I missed you too, what movie are we watching?”

“The new insidious, it looks really good.”

“A scary movie? You should’ve warned me, I’m gonna embarrass myself even more in front of your friends.” Her doe eyes stare in worry at him, causing his heart to squeeze. “Y/n no, I promise it’ll be okay. If it gets too scary I can..distract you. I’m pretty good at that.” He smiles, driving off. Of course, he would say that.

Y/n wipes her clammy hands on her jeans, remembering how the boys were in the flower shop.

Her boyfriend eyes her from his seat, eyebrows furrowed. "Hey, if this is too much for you we can go back. It's up to you." He grabs at her hands, looking her sincerely in the eyes after he parks. "No no, I'll be fine." He smiles at her, giving her a loving kiss before opening his door. The wind whips her hair in her face as she stands, soon hearing the loud chattering of, who she assumes, are his friends. There's about 4 of them, they're already laughing and pushing each other when they reach the two. They do their guy greeting before turning to her. One of them speaks up first, "You must be Y/n, we've heard a lot about you."

"Oh, good things I hope." She nervously smiles, migrating to holding onto Anakin's hand, she grips it like it's her lifeline. The group quickly starts chatting together, Y/n, obviously, the odd one out. The only thing keeping her from running away was Anakin. As they got their tickets and stood in line for snacks, he wrapped a protective arm around her waist. "What do you want?" He asks, referring to what snacks she wants.

A thoughtful expression is seen on her face as she looks over the food. "Can I get the gummy worms? Oh and a blue slushee." She says, pointing to it on the menu. The cashier types in the order, asking if that's all. He nods, paying for you both, his friends order right after. "I'll pay you back, how much was it?" She starts digging through her purse for her wallet. "Y/n, you don't have to pay me back." He shakes his head, smiling affectionately at her.

"Dude, I didn't know you were so sappy." One of his friends laughs, of course, they all start laughing at him. Except one, she doesn't know his name but she knows she doesn't like him. The way his eyes undress her makes her feel dirty and exposed. The 3 pounds of drinks, popcorn, and candy they get is dispersed amongst them. Since they are college boys, they pick the seats way at the back of the theater. She doesn't mind too much though, having Anakin with her soothes her nerves.

As she sits down, Anakin sits to her left, and to her dismay, the one friend sits to her right. The tension the guy brings has her scooting closer to her boyfriend.

Sitting through the ads was tough, she couldn't constantly keep talking to Anakin since he was talking to his friends, so she had to sit there, eating the popcorn that sat in Anakin's lap.

The lights dimmed as she reached for him, clasping one of his hands in between both of hers.

During the movie she had the weirdest feeling of being watched, it chilled her more than the cold theater air. Or, maybe not. She didn't realize how cold it was until right now.

"Anakin, I'm gonna get my jacket from your car, can you give me your keys?" She whispers.

He nods, digging in his pocket and giving her them. Carefully, she gets up, avoiding knocking into everyone's legs as she sidesteps through the aisle.

Moments later when she turns around from locking the car again, jacket in hand. She spots Anakin, his friends, and a security guard outside by the doors. Eyebrows furrowing, she gets closer, the security guard then goes inside, leaving the rest of the men. "What happened? Are you okay?" She noticed one of the guys with a busted lip and bloody nose.

"Let's go, Y/n." Her boyfriend says sternly, dragging her back to the car by the hand. "Anakin? You're scaring me."

Once they sat in the car, her body turned towards him, "Anakin." She says again, waiting for an explanation. The man sighs, rubbing his hands over his face before muttering. "I punched Cody." She's not sure who that is, but she guesses it's the one with the bleeding nose and lip. "What? Why? I thought you were friends."

He sighs again, looking over at you. "He was saying some stuff about you, that I won't repeat. I couldn't control myself after that, then we got kicked out." Y/n was stunned, what could've he possibly said about her that made Anakin so blood thirsty? "Oh." She was obviously a little hurt, not by him, but by the friend. She thought she was doing a good job at talking to them.

"Don't let him get you down, though. You mean so much to me, Y/n, More than I can put into words, let's go home." He runs a hand through his hair before reversing out of his parking space, a stern look still on his face.

That night when they got to her house, he changed into the clothes he brought over and clung to her. They were both on their sides facing each other in bed, her head pressed into his chest, and a firm arm was around her waist.

"Y/n."

"Hm?"

"Look at me."

She does as he requested and tipped her head up, locking eyes with him even through the darkness. His hand on her waist drifts up to comb through the hair beside her ear, before resting on her neck to pull her lips to his properly.

"I love you." He breaths against her mouth, kissing her once more.

"You do?" She asks, reaching up to press her hand onto his. Nobody except her parents has told her that before, especially with the pure adoration that Anakin held. "Of course, I do. The first time I ever saw you, you ran me over with your painting. I was hooked from the beginning." He smiles, rubbing her cheek with his thumb.

Her eyes widen, "That was you?"

"Yes, and I couldn't be more happy about it." He spoke so close to her lips, they brushed against each other after each word. "I love you too." She responds, initiating the last kiss before they sleep. After that, they broke apart so Anakin could lean his head on top of hers, listening to her breathing slow as she falls asleep.

--

Getting through her classes was tough, there was only one more day until the art show. Y/n tried her best not to think too much about it, though.

"Here, Cherry. Here, Bear." She calls, putting food into their dishes. As she sits and pets them while they eat, her mind drifts to what Anakin's reaction might be to seeing his own eyes on display. She can only hope it doesn't weird him out, he's her first boyfriend since her Junior year of high school. He even told her he loves her. But, she knew if he did have an adverse reaction to it, she would understand. Her head lay on her knee as she processes all of her emotions at once.

That day at the shop the bell rang, signaling a customer.

"Welcome in..." She trails off. "Anakin, what are you doing here?" Y/n gasps, eyes sparkling. The man smiles while shrugging. "Just looking around, I suppose." She hums, "Let me know if you need any help, okay?" He nods at her words, stepping around an aisle. It doesn't take him too long to pick out what he's looking for.

He places down a singular rose, readying his wallet. "Alright, that'll be $1.25." He hums in return, plucking out 2 one dollar bills. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I'll miss you." Anakin tells her as she gives him his change. "I'll miss you more, Ani." They cement their words with a kiss and then he leaves, waving at her as he does so.

—

Her hands visibly shake when she steps up to his car, it’s already dark outside so she hopes he can’t see. Y/n decided to wear a nice looking dress, she thought it would be nice since her art is in the show n all. “Wow, you look amazing. If you change your mind and wanna stay home tonight just lemme know.” He jokes.

“Tempting.” She smiles back as they finish greeting each other.

“I gotta grab my jacket from the trunk, one second.” He says as he pops the trunk open. A moment later he’s running back, half of his body is outside the car he leans inside. "For you." The red rose he bought from her in his hand, the smile that erupts onto her face has her cheeks hurting.

“Anakin, you’re so sweet.”

“Whoops sorry, here’s the rest.” She looks at him confused before he moves fully in front of the open door, a large bouquet of roses sit in his hands.

Instead of her usual sweet reply, she stares at him as he sits down in the driver's seat, the roses taking up quite a bit of space. Her eyebrows are furrowed as her mouth is still open in awe. She tries to stop the feeling of tears but it’s no use, they well up in her eyes and begin to drip and trickle down her cheek.

“Don’t cry, Cutie.” His eyes soften at her.

She gains some courage to reach out and grab the flowers, looking down at them with her, now, very wet cheeks. “You really didn’t have to.” She sniffles, wiping her tears and nose with her sleeve. “I wanted to, I love you, Y/n.”

She sniffles once more, “I love you too. Thank you.” Anakin’s not sure whether she’s thanking him for the flowers or his feelings towards her, but it makes him feel good either way. During the ride she decides to put the flowers in the back, the need to hold onto him after that was strong.

“Where are we going first?” They see a bunch of people around the school, not sure where the official entrance is.

She looks around at the outside venue before pointing to the place she wants to start looking around, knowing her piece is the opposite way.

It was unbelievably nice to look around and chat about the art pieces, some are statues, clay, and of course, paintings. Now, the moment she’s been dwelling on. She spots her painting a few feet down. “Wow, these paintings are so pretty.” Y/n says, trying to make it seem like something wasn’t eating her up inside. The natural speed of their walking, and brief stops, finally brought them to her painting. A sign in front of it spells out his name as the name of the piece, and her name as the author is right under it. Anakin’s hand on her back rubs her clothed skin, as it has been on and off for the past hour. His fingers feel like fire through her dress.

Her senses are heightened, the sound of the ground under their feet, the chatting of people around them, and the wind is all very loud. Her heart beat especially.

She doesn’t say anything as they walk in front of her section. “Heh, this looks like the eyes you always draw.” She gulps at his observation, waiting for him to read the sign. In a confused voice, he lets out a “Y/n..?” As he stares at the vivid blue on the canvas and the sign that has his name as the title of the painting, it all hits him at once. She can’t possibly look at him, she’s already having trouble regulating her breathing. But, he grips her and spins her to face him.

“This..is yours?” He pauses, eyes full of emotion. “You were drawing me? All those sketches I saw..were me?” He searches her eyes for something, anything in the moment.

“I’m sorry if you find it creepy-.” She begins explaining herself, but he cuts her off. “Y/n, no. I love it, more than I can express.” He never imagined anyone would do this, would ever take such an interest in him more than his physical abilities and attractiveness.

“I can’t believe it. Come here.” He says, taking her to a less populated area. Once they’re there, he grabs her face gently. His eyebrows are knit together as tears well in his eyes. “Y/n, I, I never thought I’d meet someone like you. Thank you for loving me."

It didn’t very long for them to make their way to her bed once more, this time was different though. She felt it in the air, in the way he pressed loving kisses to the expanse of her skin. The dress she’s wearing is bunched around her hips as he lays in between them, kissing down her thighs.

“Gonna make you feel good, Cutie.”

His nose nudges her clothed cunt, it has her hips stuttering upwards. He smiles as he carefully prods her with his tongue over her panties, soon settling on her clit to suckle lazily. "Anakin." She whines, the teasing becoming too much for her. Her boyfriend smiles before moving up to the waistband, kissing sultry kisses into her skin and the fabric, it ends with him nipping at the clothing and tugging it down her body with just his teeth. She hopes she doesn't go into cardiac arrest because of him.

His large hands grip her thighs, throwing them over his shoulder and spreading her wide with two fingers. "Such a pretty pussy for me, Cutie." He mumbles into her as he licks firmly up her slit to her clit. Her back reacts first, then her hands get lost in his hair. She's never been eaten out before, the feeling coupled with the perpetrator being Anakin made her mind fuzzy. He eases his tongue inside of her, licking around before he groans. The vibrations pulling a loud moan from Y/n.

"I knew you'd taste good, so perfect for me."

His praise added a new layer of heat to her face and chest, the dress she was wearing suddenly very hot. Anakin narrowed in on her clit, his finger pulled back the hood so he could suck purely on the bundle of nerves. A choked whine leaves her, her back arches fully at the sensitivity. The liquid fire in her gut spreads like lava as she unexpectedly comes, the moans are stuck in her throat as she processes the euphoria flowing through her. His sucking becomes gentler as he prolongs her orgasm.

"You did so good for me, Baby. God, you drive me crazy. You see what you do to me?" He hotly asks, pushing his jeans down enough to grip his erection through his briefs. An ache settles in her pelvis, the need to be filled becoming almost unbearable. "I need you, Anakin. Feel so empty without you." His eyes close for a second before he fully undresses, soon doing the same to her as she pushes the material of her dress up and over her head. The both of them feeling the effects of the other person.

He pushes in and leans down, catching her lips in a kiss. "I love you, Y/n." She mutters back the sentiments, eyes rolling to the back of her head at the initial stretch of him. The veins that line his shaft are felt through her tight walls, it drives her crazy.

"Fuck, so tight for me." He mumbles, dropping so their bodies are pressed flush against each other. His head rests on her neck as he picks up his pace, rutting into her needly. Light lines of red come to life on his back due to her fingernails, the pressure only drives him further into her. The only other sound besides their mixed moaning and groaning is the squelching from how wet she is, Y/n bites her lip in embarrassment, and Anakin's hips stutter.

"So wet for me, love this pussy so much."

A layer of sweat forms between their bodies as he keeps going, and a hand drifts down between them to rub at her clit. His thumb keeps up with his thrusting, only rubbing faster when she cries out. “Gonna come for me, Cutie?” He breathes heavily, planting deep kisses against her neck and chest.

She nods quickly, clinging onto him. “So close for you.” Her voice is a tad hoarse as she speaks up.

“Let go, need to feel you.”

His plead pushes her off the edge. Her hips do as they please and buck up into him, plunging him deep into her. Fireworks set off behind her closed eyelids and her brain lulls to a stop, letting the overwhelming feeling take over her limbs as they shake. Just as she comes out of it a loud groan sounds from him, “Mm, Baby, where do you want me?”

“In me, please come inside me.”

The idea of coming inside her ends it all for him, dirty thoughts and images run through his mind a mile a minute as he shoves himself as deep as he can go. The warmth of him finishing in her has zaps of electricity shooting up and down her spine.

“You did so good, Y/n.” He pants from above her, leaning down to give her a sweet kiss before he pulls out. The sight after he does is picture-worthy, his come leaks out of her and it almost makes Anakin hard again. A moment passes before he takes his middle and ring finger and pushes the rest back inside of her.

“You’re so pretty with my come leaking out of you, my little tortured artist.”

She chuckles out of breath before he speaks up again.

"I know this probably isn't the right time, but y'know how you helped with my botany homework?"

Her eyebrows draw together curiously, "Yes..why?"

"Well, I actually wasn't failing, I had an A in that class but I just wanted an excuse to talk to you more."

Her eyes grow wide at that, an incredulous smile on her face. "Seriously?"

He shrugs, "It worked, didn't it?"

[danydarkly]

Back from an unplanned but much-needed social media break~ ✨

The psychic damage never ceases but I missed sharing art and, more than that, I was getting major fomo for the art of my mutuals, so I have lots to catch up on 🖤

Also! Red & Wolf returns and ends soon, if you weren’t already aware (because I’m bad at keeping people informed), I’ve been working on the last part of Chapter 4 and the Epilogue at the same time and we are so close to the finish line!

As a reminder, you can get progress reports and sneak peeks over on my Patreon, conversely, my Etsy shop is reopened :>

[paranormal-taters]

Love and Attraction in My Adventures with Superman

As someone who has never been particularly drawn by superhero media, I wasn't really sure what to expect when I first started watching My Adventures with Superman about a week ago. I had seen a few posts here on Tumblr that had piqued my interest, but all I really knew about it was that it was well-loved and had an art style that I knew I liked.

I absolutely did not expect to fall head over heels for the show entirely, or to be moved to tears multiple times by the wildly sweet, revolutionary relationship between this adaptation's Clark Kent and Lois Lane.

I say "revolutionary" because this romance touches on a lot of things that I feel are lacking in most modern portrayals of romance, and it handles them masterfully.

Most of what I reference/talk about in this post will focus on the first four episodes of season one (with a particular focus on the fourth episode, Let's Go to Ivo Tower, You Say) , because they are my favorite episodes and I think I can communicate what I want to by pulling mainly from those episodes. But I will be pulling bits and pieces from the whole series so consider yourself spoiler-warned.

The main point is this: I absolutely adore the way that physical attraction and emotional attraction are balanced between Clark and Lois.

The fact that this is possible comes from how well-crafted the dynamic is between the two of them; Lois' raw passion and energy inspires confidence and a mutual passion in Clark, and Clark's gentleness and kind heart inspire a tenderness in Lois that she was never given an outlet to show or receive. From this dynamic, a wealth of physical and emotional intimacy is naturally born. But never in the series do the two aspects of attraction feel out of balance; rather, they play off each other effortlessly. When one is brought into focus, the other quickly follows.

From the first episode and onward, it's obvious that Clark and Lois are awed by each other's physical appearance. Lois outright describes Clark as "beautiful" (which, if you saw one of my earlier posts from not too long ago, is something that makes me so incredibly happy to see in mainstream media).

To be fair, she doesn't say that to his face and says it in a moment of extreme frustration. But I still count it.

Anyways.

Upon seeing Lois for the first time, Clark is practically frozen in wonder for a good few seconds.

Lois, too, experiences this initial moment of attraction and almost immediately makes contact, with a playful punch to Clark's chest as he holds the door open for her.

This is a detail I really love, because first of all wow, I aspire to have her level of confidence. But also, it becomes clear early on in the series that Lois expresses herself very physically. She has no qualms regarding physical affection. Clark, on the other hand, is much more reserved and, at first, generally only initiates contact after an invitation from Lois, or after enough time has passed in their friendship for him to know that Lois is very physical and wouldn't have a problem with it.

There is also an immediate emphasis on Clark's concern for Lois' physical well-being. Take a sip of water every time Clark asks Lois if she's okay just in the first episode alone and you will be well hydrated.

Later on in this first episode, while trying to infiltrate a warehouse, Lois confidently asks Clark to boost her up to a window so she can get inside the building. Clark is immediately flustered, showing how much he feels out of his depth even with physical contact that, on the surface, would have no romantic connotations. (But to be fair, Lois is asking him to put his hands around her waist and lift her up when they literally just met like maybe six hours ago. I would be flustered too.)

And when Lois loses her balance and Clark effortlessly catches her, his first response (after blushing, of course) is to ask her:

Even in moments where the romantic tension is thick enough to cut with a knife and Clark clearly knows it, his first priority is to make sure she's okay.

And thus begins one of the strongest underlying themes throughout the whole building-up of their relationship, which is trust.

I'm gonna jump ahead now to the scene that inspired this whole post: the stairwell scene in episode four.

A basic rundown: Clark, Lois, and Jimmy are given an assignment to attend a tech unveiling for the city's top investors at Amazotech headquarters. Lois, naturally, ignores the parameters of the assignment and tries to use it as an opportunity to expose corruption in the city and get her stop-the-presses story. Clark very reluctantly follows her lead, believing that she will get herself into trouble . . . until Dr. Ivo, head of Amazotech, makes a few rude comments about Lois' appearance (Lois doesn't hear these, only Clark). This deeply irritates Clark and prompts him into revealing how much he knows about Dr. Ivo's corrupt business dealings, in an attempt to intimidate the truth out of Dr. Ivo, who responds by having Clark thrown out of the building and into a pile of garbage in an adjacent alleyway. Lois comes to find Clark (who is unhurt) and teases him about whether or not she should let him back in the building, since he didn't follow the assignment. Clark jokes that he doesn't even meet the dress code anymore, revealing that his suit jacket was torn as he was tossed out of the building.

Lois then reveals that she came prepared for this, and tells Clark to "take it off."

Clark immediately becomes flustered again and begins stammering as Lois pulls him back into the building by his jacket, continuing to tease him.

It's in these moments, as you can see, that the lighting of the scene changes. As soon as Lois says "take it off", everything is bathed in a rosy light. This happens frequently between these two; often, when we the audience are seeing one of these characters through the perspective of the other, the lighting takes on a very dreamy quality. This will come up again momentarily.

As Lois and Clark ascend the stairs, Lois removes her jacket and pulls a sewing kit from her pocket, admitting that she carries one on her because she herself has torn a lot of her clothing on her escapades.

The two then sit down on the stairs, and Clark removes his jacket. The lighting changes again, and we see Clark from Lois' eyes. It's clear by the dreamy lighting and the way that Lois blushes and involuntarily chokes out a "Wow . . ." that she is once again awed by him and deeply attracted to him on a physical level.

And this scene represents so much about their growing dynamic. It honestly has me floored.

But before I explain fully, I have to go on a tangent about my beloved Clark.

Throughout the beginning of the series, I believe Clark shows several signs that indicate that he is insecure about his physical appearance. Which you wouldn't expect, right? I mean, look at him. He's objectively a dreamboat. He was designed to be that way.

But at this stage of knowing so little about where he really came from or who he is, I think Clark struggles with not having a way to explain his physique. He admits that he wasn't an athlete in school; he was in the chess club. He doesn't work out as an adult. And yet he has the muscles of a bodybuilder. But, like so many other aspects of himself, he doesn't have a way to explain it. This causes a disconnect in how he sees himself physically; he likely feels as though he doesn't deserve his naturally impressive physique. And you could argue that he even does his best to hide it. As a civilian, he generally wears bulky, layered clothing like sweatshirts and sweaters. He slouches and carries himself in a very inward direction; his shoulders are often forward and his arms close to his sides, as if he is habitually attempting to make himself smaller.

This is one thing that brought me to tears when I saw it. The idea that a person can feel insecure about having physical attributes that would normally be seen as positive (and that they can't explain and/or feel that they don't deserve) is not very well-explored in media, but it is experienced by quite a few people, myself being one of them. But often in the real world when someone attempts to express this kind of insecurity, they are shut down and mocked and told to "be grateful" for what they have because others would envy them. Which I can say from personal experience is unbelievably damaging to a person's self image. So seeing this possibly be represented in Clark Kent himself was incredibly moving to me.

But back to the scene itself.

In the most recent gif above, this is the most vulnerable Lois has seen Clark thus far. What I think is so beautiful is the way that she invites him into this vulnerability by making herself vulnerable first.

Rewind a bit. Outside the building, Lois tells Clark to take his jacket off. Not a big deal, right? It's not like he's not wearing an undershirt. But Clark becomes flustered, not outright expressing that he's uncomfortable with this, but certainly indicating that he's not exactly at ease with it either.

Next we see them climbing up the stairs, and as they do so, Lois removes her own jacket and reveals her bare back to Clark in the process.

I believe this was incredibly intentional. This scene would have carried a very different tone if Lois' outfit was revealing in any other way. But the fact that her back is exposed symbolizes that she trusts him, in a physical and emotional sense. It's like when my cat Penny rolls on her back and exposes her fluffy tummy. Lois revealing this part of herself was her saying "I trust you, I feel safe with you, and I'll be vulnerable with you if you'll be vulnerable with me."

And only after that does Clark remove his jacket.

Because there is the factor of attraction at play, there is a lot of blushing and stammering going on in the beginning of this scene. These are two incredibly attractive people who are incredibly attracted to each other, after all. But immediately after the initial romantic tension, there is emotional vulnerability as well. Lois confides in Clark about her relationship with her dad, and the crippling self-doubt that she has kept very close to her chest. Clark jumps to reassure her in earnest, telling her that she has "changed his life for the better, in every possible way."

And that is what I meant at the beginning of the post when I mentioned balance.

Every moment of physical attraction in this series is followed by or harmonized with a moment of emotional vulnerability. Clark and Lois both invite each other deeper into each aspect of connection, and thus their relationship builds in an incredibly natural and beautiful way.

At this point, I think this post is about five miles long as the crow scrolls and I should probably stop now before all my thoughts run away with me. I could go on forever about the impact that this series and these characters have had on me, though. I will forever be grateful to the creators for giving us such an incredible series, and such a beautiful romance.