#also i found a rake brush

[iababa]

[gojonanami]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How did you get so lucky?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

Because, you probably didn’t want to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he needs you. Always.

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

And he blinks, “You don’t—”

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

“Make myself comfortable?” his lips quirk.

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

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

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

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

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

—But he would try.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what do you want, princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m counting the days,” you murmur

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just one more week.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A week would pass by quick.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Undoubtedly very late,”

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As long as it’s with you.”

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For him.

~~~~

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

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

“Why does it look like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what he kept telling himself.

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well if he insists, you’d start too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My turn.”

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

—so why did it feel like forever?

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

And his eyes flicker up, “Sweetheart—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want you jeopardizing work—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who would ever keep you waiting?”

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need someone,” and you snort.

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

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

“That’s a guarantee,” and he smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He only smiles, “Anything for you.”

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

God, he missed you.

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

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

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

And how many more would there be?

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

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

~~~

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

You knit your brow together, “But—”

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

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

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

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

Because it wouldn’t be forever.

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

He only hoped it would work out in his favor.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. And you quickly shut the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

Suguru had almost gotten it right. Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

~~~

Can we call tonight? I miss you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Except let me go, apparently.”

RING. RING. RING.

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

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

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

He needed to talk to you.

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suguru?

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was.”

~~~~

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

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

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

“Sweetheart—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you still hoped he would.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

[irndad]

in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair. 

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind. 

But he wanted her. 

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.  

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her. 

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life. 

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure. 

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question. 

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness. 

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility. 

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists. 

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his. 

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up. 

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way. 

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time. 

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.” 

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete. 

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers? 

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him. 

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy. 

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded. 

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please. 

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god. 

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again. 

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality. 

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does. 

Ben, is not in fact, going away. 

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore. 

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.  

But her cup says Ben. 

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have. 

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison. 

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is. 

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.” 

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition. 

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess. 

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile. 

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit  into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp. 

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.” 

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his. 

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company. 

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it. 

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem. 

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben. 

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face. 

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights. 

Ironic, really. 

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself. 

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering. 

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for. 

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this. 

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.” 

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. 

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to. 

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from. 

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass. 

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time. 

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation. 

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot. 

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together. 

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting. 

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance? 

Wasn’t it romance, though? 

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror. 

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks. 

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry. 

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment. 

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire. 

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s 

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her. 

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion. 

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him. 

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness.  “There was never anyone else to pick.” 

[tonixe]

I dare you to do the darkest, dirtiest, most disturbing shit with Coriolanus peacekeeper

⤑ GRIM REAPER

A/N: I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE! UGHH, I love possessive coriolanus, he is so sexy when he has authority, man I love him.

WARNING: p in the v, non to dub-con, love bombing, gaslighting, fear, hitting, kidnapping, coercion, hair pulling, bondage, forced mudpie, oral sex (male receiving), jealousy, cum eating. *** coriolanus being possessive and obsessive.

PAIRING: Peacekeeper!coriolanus x district!reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.5k

Born into the district—born into a life of hardships and pain...you were luckily born to two parents, and though you weren't financially stable you managed to enjoy a happy with your family. You had 3 siblings you had to look after, and whenever your parents went off to work, life was stressful but every time you got to see their faces smiling you were also satisfied.

When you got older you got a part-time job, at the vendor selling food, it was owned by an old couple who graciously gave you the job, though it wasn't a lot of money you took to support your parents. They asked to take a shift that was deeper into the night, so you accepted the offer, needing the money. Holding yourself up at the cart, waiting as you called out for customers, feeling yourself getting tired as the second. Stretching your arms out, as you looked further into the night. The night there were more Peacekeepers out, inspecting the district, it slightly made you feel apprehensive at the armed men walking through the area.

Your eyes hesitantly look and watch their movements, brushing the dust off your aprons, fixing your hair as your hair stuck to your neck from the humid air. Hearing footsteps inching near you, as you looked up...you felt your heart dropping in automatic dread, at the blonde Peacekeeper in front of you. You cleared your throat before speaking up to him, "Could I interest you, Sir?" you asked, your voice quivering as you spoke just to keep a positive tone. You felt his eyes raking you. He nodded, "I'll have that" He pointed, as you nodded. His eyes looked at you as you wrapped it up, "Have I seen you before?" He questioned, you looked up at him, "I don't think so..." You smiled at him, as you quickly boxed it up. "Enjoy, Sir" You put your hand out gesturing for him to take the box, "Thank you," He said, taking the box from your hand, and you felt his rough hands against yours.

You watched as he took his leave...you finally got to breathe, releasing the pending oxygen in your lungs and exhaling through your nose.

From the simple exchange, Coriolanus found himself visiting you at your vendor stall. Though, your introverted nature, you reluctantly started talking to him. You told him little things about your life, but he was smart enough to connect the puzzle pieces that you told him and connect it back to your life. He found your coquettish antics cute...and after your shifts you found yourself spending time with him, and often the districts were hot and humid, spending time by the lakes.

His sky-blue eyes took the appearance of your disheveled form, but he found you still captivating—from your dress strap falling to your shoulder and your light dress sticking against your wet skin. He wanted to take a picture of you to save the memory...but Time after time, he found himself getting slowly addicted to you...his visits got frequent, and he would deliver little gifts or care packages to you such as medicine, food, or water. You were grateful for him doing this, but you didn't want to feel like a burden to him, at first you were hesitant to take the gifts but he would ensure that it was a gift for you.

You didn't think about the kind gestures he would do for you, but you would always thank him for what he did. Soon, his obsession with you was like a disease, it kept on spreading and spreading over time, every time he closed his eyes, it would be just you, even when he worked on his daily tasks, his mind would be infected with pictures of you. He would always prefer to be stationed somewhere near you, he would be observing you as you worked, he hated when you talked to other men that weren't him, and his obsession with you was unhealthy, It felt like he couldn't last a day without or seeing you, sometime he would show up unannounced with a bouquet of roses in his hands surprising you.

The first time it was a nice gesture, and you loved it but it started again and again, his presence was almost suffocating to you, and when he asked you the question, you felt fear of saying no to him. But you knew if you were to say 'yes' it would get worse, so you told him to give you some time to think about it, he nodded but you knew he was displeased.

You had a plan to just run away, but you knew sooner or later he would catch you, you shivered at the thought. Knowing that your family would be harmed in the invasion, your ear perked at the sound of the door, you dragged your feet to the door, opening it up. It was him, a bouquet of roses in his hands, his Arctic blue eyes staring at you. It was haunting, he cleared his throat before talking, "So..have you made your decision?" every word he said made your heart pump faster, your flight response ringing alarms through your body to run.

"Coriolanus..um" you stopped mid-way, looking at him in his eyes, "I do thank you for what you do for me, but—I barely know you, and I don't think we would..be good together" you finished your sentence, feeling an eerily feeling in your gut, "Why" that all he said, you looked again at him. It looked like a shadow was cast, his bright sky blue eyes that he looked at you with, were darkening as he spoke.

"For all I do for you, you choose to deny me" The volume of his voice increases, and you force yourself to look at him as he yells at you, he laughs for a short while, before grabbing your jaw, "I protected you, I have done everything for you" you eyes watered from his grip, "I think you should leave, Corio" you whispered, it felt like whip when you used his nickname in that sentence, he released your jaw. His hand was in your hair down, pulling you down, as you felt tears threatening to be produced, his rough hands pulling on your hair, making your scalp hurt, "Corio..please!" You exclaimed, he started to say something else, every word uttering from his word was like venom to an open wound. He threw down the bouquet of roses onto the floor

Your knee felt weak as you fell down onto the floor, hearing his footsteps receding, and the sound door being slammed closed. Tears dripping down from your cheek, the bouquet of roses on the floor, as the petals were scattered on the floor, it was some sick remember of Coriolanus. Days passed, and you saw roses on your doormat, every day it would happen, and you felt fear looming over you.

Every time the color would change from pink to a deep red, they varied every day.

But you went back to your job, selling at the stand to the deep of night, noticing the tie, you quickly packed the cart up for tomorrow and rolled it back to where the old couple resided. You sang to yourself as the wheels of the cart rolled against the broken concrete before you knew it, you felt a hand wrapping your torso, and something else like cloth suffocating you, you tried to scream, but it went deaf in your throat, succumbing to the cloth as you closed your eyes, fainting into the strangers hands.

Your eyes fluttered open, as your eyes wandered around your surroundings. You felt your legs numb, as you tried to stand up, but couldn't, looking down at yourself, rope wrapped around your body. You tried not to move from the friction of the rope hurting you.

Your ears perked at the sound of footsteps,. "Your finally awake, my dove" He walked towards you, taking a knee when he got a good look at you. His fingers caressed your cheek, "We were meant for each other, Y/N" He whispered, you started shaking when his hands lowered, and you turned yourself away from him before he withdrew from him. Before he grabbed you by your jaw, forcing you to look at him, "Do I scare you, am I that ugly that you don't want to love me, Y/N" You shook your head immediately, "Then why.." He growled, and you felt tears on your cheeks, "Don't try to use your crocodile tears on me, Y/N" He glared at you.

You looked away from him, as you sniffled, "Fuck, you don't know what you do to me.." he traveled his finger over your lip, parting it, as you stared at him. Before he kissed you, his tongue forcing itself into your mouth, you felt yourself crying more, as you bit down on his tongue. He withdrew from you, the trail of blood on his lips. His haunting chuckle echo in your ear, "You fucking bitch" He held his jaw. He stood up from the floor, looking away from him.

You heard the sound of belt jingling, your eyes widening at the sight, of his cock in his hand, "Corio, no..please' you begged, your felt yourself crying more, his footsteps inching near you, he slapped his cock on your cheek, it was degrading. "Open," He said, and you felt your lips trembling at the size, "N-no" you whispered, and he repeated himself again, you turned away before he pried your lips open and forced himself into your mouth, making you gag. His hands were in your hair, as he dragged you against his cock, fucking into your mouth. Salvia dripping down from your chin, his groans ringing out in your ears.

"Fuck, you're doing so good, sweetheart" He looked down at you, as your tears filled your vision, he smirked looking at your vulnerable form, before he thrust himself into you. You felt his hot load going down your throat, "Swallow" He said, and you obeyed, The bitter taste coating your mouth, his hands caressing your cheek, "Good girl" he smiled at you. Before he released your jaw, your eyes looked down at the floor, before you heard him tucking himself into his pants.

Days passed,

He treated you with kindness, gifting you a rose, and caressing your back as you lay on his lap, but you managed to convince him to remove the rope around your body. He would braid your hair, comb it, and treat you like a doll. It kept on happening, you started worrying about your family if they were currently looking for you. "Coriolanus, can I visit my family, please" He stopped combing your hair, and he down at you, "Do you deserve it?" He asked, "Please" you begged, sitting up as you looked at him. He breathed out, looking away from you.

"I deserve it, you kidnapped me against my own will!" You stood and yelled, he just glared at you, as he stood up. His height towering over you, "You don't need them at all, I..can give you what you need. you don't need them" He yelled at you, grabbing your shoulder as he forced you to look up at him. "No, I never asked for you to do anything, you came up to me. You did this just to do it, Coriolanus" You yelled at him, finally using his full name instead of the nickname you gave me, you felt your cheek throbbing, his hand harshly hitting you, before he grabbed you by your shirt, "I will fucking kill you and your family if you leave me, Y/N..do you hear me" He lowered his voice, you were shaking. His eyes softened at you crying, before he held you not a hug and you held him, his hands rubbing your back, soothing you.

"Just not now, Y/N.." He whispered and kissed your forehead, you felt sick to your stomach. The next day, he apologized to you, and you were forced to accept, he covered you with kisses and love, and gifted roses.

A month passed still being caged by Coriolanus, but you got some freedom from him, but you weren't allowed to leave a tall. he had surveillance on you. He always reminds you that he loved you, did kind things with you, and surprised you with flowers like he always did. Red roses everywhere,

You stared at the window, it was fairly getting dark, and no signs of Coriolanus coming back. You wanted to escape but knowing the consequence would be horrible if you committed the act, before you heard stomping from the door, your eyes looking at the furious Coriolanus in front of you. "How many men, have you slept with Y/N" You got up from your feet, looking at him incredulously, "What are you talking about?" before you felt a sting on your cheek, "Don't play dumb with me" He yelled at you, "How many" He repeated himself, "I —none, I didn't do anything, Coriolanus" you sniffled, before he took a fist of your hair, pulling you towards him, "Don't fucking lie to me, Y/N" He growled, "I'm not lying, please" He hit you a second time, this time it was worse, feeling your nose bleeding from the impact. He started dragging you to the bedroom, where he forced you to sleep, throwing you onto the mattress of the bed, you heard him taking off his belt, forcefully tying up your hands above you.

"Coriolanus, please' you screamed, kicking your legs everywhere, "Please-please, stop" you cried as he got on top of you, taking off your pants and panties in the same quick motion. Aligning himself against, before you felt himself inside of you, it was painful, horrible. He moaned against you, as he forced himself into you and out, thrusting his hips against yours, you screamed at him, hitting him on his biceps to stop.

Your screams were deaf to his ears, as he fucked himself into you, his cock tearing everything inside of you, "Please" you heaved, hitting him, his sky-blue eyes staring at you. Time passed slowly, purposely you felt, before he cummed inside of you, you screamed for him to stop and pull out but he didn't. You lay there motionless, dried tears on your cheeks and naked in front of him, "Don't touch me" you cried, flipping to the side away from him. He called your name again, but you ignored him, holding yourself, you rolled yourself into a ball and cried to yourself until you fell asleep.

When you woke up,, you didn't see Coriolanus, you looked at yourself, your bottom still exposed, a reminder of at the ordeal that happened yesterday. You stood up, putting back your underwear and your pants, before walking out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes still tired. There was something on the table, as you walked, it was a bouquet of fresh roses and a note attached to it with his handwriting.

You covered your mouth, and you fell to your knee and cried to yourself, knowing that he wouldn't let you go...the roses he gifted you are just a reminder of his torment.

[neo-percs]

DEEP THROATING:: ( day 13 )

WARNING:: drabble face fucking, deep throating, dirty talk, mark with tattoos!

SUMMARY:: you’ve never given anyone head before, you want to do it with someone you trust… so why not mark lee?

WORD COUNT:: 756

"I want to do this with you, nobody else" you say as your fingers brush against the skin of his lower stomach as they hook over the tightly wrapped towel. You were eager, the new found feeling was overstimulating in all the right ways. Pulling the fabric away from his lap now completely exposed to the cold air Mark shivers, he doesn't know if it's from excitement or the decrease in temperature but either way he felt like he was in heaven.

The way your hands travel over his thighs makes his breath get caught in his throat, your eyes rake over his body with a look he's never seen on your face but regardless he loves it. you wet the palm of your hands with your tongue before taking his cock into your fist, slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb.

His head falls back with no support from the chair he mutters out "fuck" as his hands grip at the towel underneath him. And when you finally put him in your mouth, finally swallow down the already there taste of him on your tongue—you both let out a moan. Can feel the top half of him shift like his head has fallen back, an image of his beautifully parted mouth hung open, eyes screwed shut in pleasure has you moaning against him again; your body on fire, your pussy aching.

You match the pumps of your hand with the drag of your mouth up and down his dick. Swirl your tongue around the head and suck when you reach it. Let yourself go as far as your gag reflex will let you until you're gagging around him and he's is cursing and digging his nails into the side of the chair once again.

And when you steal a glance to the side you can see how red his knuckles look from the death grip he has the towel. How his fingers twitch and hand runs along his thigh, acting as if he wants to touch you but not daring to. You steal another glance up at him, "oh fuck" tumbling from his lips when your eyes meet; he looks so desperate in the moment. He didn't want release, he needed it, Mark had never been a begging man but in the moment Mark would do just about anything to cum.

you keep your nose pressed into the skin of his pelvis until you physically can't, pulling off of him with a loud pop. your cheek is wet with tears, and your chin is slick with spit, the two coalescing at the tip into a sticky mess.

the sight makes him twitch in your hand, because this is what he's been dreaming of. This was his selfish wish, to see you below him with this expression. eyes all doe-eyed and desperate. But it also doesn't take Mark much time before he lets his eyes flutter shut, his hips now slowly bucking into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your throat closing around him tightly.

he can't help but to reach out and rub the heavy pad of his thumb over your parting lips, pressing the salty digit flat against your tongue, and retreating it in the same breath to hook it around your cheek.

a string of profanities leave his lips. he's close, and you can tell by the way he begins to fuck into your face with a slight roughness. to guide him there, you begin to hollow your cheeks and narrow your throat, using a single hand to massage his thigh digging your nails into his skin.

he can feel you start to get riled up, and when you start to scratch and claw at his thighs for air, that does it for him. with a final, lazy thrust, he releases the entirety of his load down your throat, keeping you pressed down on him until he's sure every last bit has been spilled.

Pulling away slowly, your breathing uneven and filled with small coughs and hiccups, your hand resting on his scratched up thighs, Mark looks at you with nothing but lust. Your swollen lips, your mascara staining your cheeks, his hand cupping your jaw to bring you close his nose brushing against yours as your heavy breathing mixes with his.

"You're so fucking beautiful" he grumbles as he presses his lips against yours harshly parting your lips with his tongue messily running yours against his. Slowly without breaking the kiss Mark moves himself out of the chair, his own knees feeling a slight sting at the feeling.

[judeswhore]

yess just snuggling on the sun loungers even though it’s too warm and stealing little kisses when u think ur friends aren’t paying attention

i need to be his summer gf soooo bad, also this is kinda inspired by this post

the second you settled onto the lounger beside jude he was tugging your legs over his lap, the arm closest to you rising to rest against the back of the seat, his other lying heavily over your legs. he patted your hip once, eyes dropping to the drink you were holding and raised his eyebrows.

“that’s like the fifth cocktail i’ve seen you with.” he pointed out, an amused tilt to the corner of his lips. you could only shrug in reply and tipped the straw towards his mouth in an offering. while he sipped at the fruity drink you tried to press in closer to him, unbothered by the heat as you felt his bare skin against your own. you practically stuck against him but he looked so irresistible you couldn’t bring yourself to care about being uncomfortable.

jude had discarded his shirt, in fact you’d warn it for the most part of the day but now it was tucked away in your beach bag, the sun much too hot for any layers. his bare chest was sinfully inviting, already glowing from the sun, shoulders and biceps so broad and big you had found it difficult concentrating whenever you’d looked at him. pair that with the fact his shorts hung so low you could see the peak of his calvin’s and your mind was in overdrive, filthy thoughts filling your head every time you got a glimpse.

“it’s bottomless, i’m gonna drink them dry.” you told him as you took your own sip. he only hummed in light acknowledgment, the palm of his hand smoothing over the bare skin of your thigh. despite being surrounded by your friends and countless people who had been taking pictures all afternoon, jude had no qualms about touching you, his levels of pda only seeming to have increased.

“i’m gonna be mad if i have to carry you back to our room.”

“i’m too pretty for you to get mad at me.” you teased, attempting to hide your grin by sucking the straw back between your lips. jude cocked his head and raised his brows, slipped his hand a little further up your thigh. his fingers grazed the curve of your ass and goosebumps rose in their wake, heat pooling in your tummy.

“oh yeah?”

“uh huh and i’m wearing your favourite bikini. makes it even harder for you.” your words had jude’s eyes dropping down, gaze raking over your somewhat exposed boobs. you’d specifically chosen an overly small bikini with the intent of winding your boyfriend up, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself whenever he saw you. it had worked well so far. heat flickered behind his eyes and you felt his attention like soft fingers across your skin. you purposely pressed your chest out a little further and jude let out a soft laugh.

“it definitely makes something hard for me.” he gave a quick squeeze to your ass before letting his palm brush back down your thigh. knee to ass and back, a repeated motion that was both loving and teasing at once. the comment made you roll your eyes and his reply was a soft pinch to your hip. “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“don’t be a perv then.”

“oh, you wanna play that game, babe?” he asked, a cocky edge to his voice.

jude’s lips tipped into a smirk and he pulled you closer until you were almost nose to nose. his eyes had that teasing glint and you were trying not to laugh before he’d even said anything. the arm he’d had over the back of the lounger falling to hook around your waist and settle on your hip furthest from his body.

“who’s the one that sat on the bathroom counter all morning to watch me shower? hm? and hid my clothes just so she could see me in a towel? and who’s the one that begged me to leave my shirt in the room so she could eye me like a piece of meat? oh and let’s not forget about how many times you’ve slapped my arse today.” you were giggling behind your straw, shrugging your shoulders innocently as his smile grew, a breathy laugh trickling from his own lips at your feigned innocence. “and don’t think i haven’t seen you staring at my dick all afternoon so don’t give me all that perv bullshit when you’re the biggest one i’ve ever met.”

“i can’t help that it’s always staring at me.” you mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. his smile got a little wider in response. “you should wear better shorts.” you kissed the other side, sliding your free hand over the warm skin of his shoulder and then down his bicep.

“and ruin your day? i’d be an awful boyfriend.” jude teased, hand skirting back up your thigh and over your ass. the tips of his fingers slipped beneath the tiny string of your bikini bottoms and he toyed with the material. “you’d die of deprivation after the first hour.” you were peppering kisses over his jaw and his words wavered a little when you sunk your teeth playfully into his skin, sucked a mark when you knew you really shouldn’t.

“i wouldn’t even last the hour.” jude laughed at that and turned his head to press his mouth firmly over yours. he kissed you soft and slow, a gentle caress of his lips over yours at first before he was tilting his head and deepening the kiss. you gave a quiet moan that he eagerly swallowed, his palm sliding halfway up your spine to hold you against him. his other hand was still resting on the curve of your ass and you knew he was itching to let it wander into more inappropriate places.

“fuck sake, d’you two have to keep doing that?” you’re not sure which of jude’s friends that had come from, their words mocking behind their groan. almost in sync, lips parting reluctantly, you and jude flipped your middle fingers at the group, your boyfriend easily catching the pillow that had been lobbed your way before it could hit you in the face.

there was an unamused glower on his face at being interrupted and so you kissed his cheek, pressed the straw of your cocktail against his lips. his gaze met yours again as he sucked and you cocked your head towards the ocean.

“y’wanna go for a swim?”

[entitled-fangirl]

Our needs.

Remus Lupin x reader

SMUT

18+ please and thank you and you're welcome

Summary: the reader is hesitant to go any further with Remus, and she finally tells him why. He is determined to prove her wrong.

Warnings: sweet dom!Remus, mentions of past partners, oral sex (F receiving), crude comments

Author's note: Is it hot in here, or is it just me?

Masterlist

...................................................

"Rem?" She asked quietly against his lips.

Remus immediately pulled away His gaze turned worried, "What, love? Something wrong?"

She stares at him apprehensively. 

He gives her a reassuring smile, "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

He recognized the pattern she went through. How she always pushed him away when things were starting to get heated. But, he patiently awaited until she was ready to talk about it.

She takes a deep breath, "it's just… I don't know… I don't know if I can…"

His eyebrows furrow. He kisses her head gently before letting his deep brown eyes rake over her face. "Don't know what?"

Her face turns red as she buries her head into his shoulder. "I don't think I can cum."

He gently pulls the hair on the back of her neck so she'll look at him, "You can't, or you haven't?"

She gives a small shrug in worry. 

He chuckles under his breath, "You've been with someone else, haven't you?"

She nods.

He tilts his head in fake sympathy, "Poor baby. That boy couldn't make you cum, could he?"

Y/N looked away in embarrassment at his crude language, but he grabbed her jaw with his free hand, making her look at him. "Hey," he reprimanded. 

Her doe-eyes stared up at his.

He couldn't help but smile, "That's the difference between a boy and a man. A boy will put his own needs before yours. But, have you even been with a man, love?"

She hesitantly shakes her head. 

He leaned in close to her, letting his breath caress her face, "Your needs are my needs."

He gave her a gentle kiss and began to move down her body, kissing and nipping playfully as he went.

He loved the way her body responded to him.

…

She had never felt like this before.

The tightening in her stomach was almost painful.

All due to Remus's sweet tongue consistently lapping between her legs.

Her hand found itself in the messy curls on his head at the beginning, and he practically groaned at the feeling of her unconsciously pulling at it.

"Remus… Re… please," she begged.

"Please, what?" He muttered teasingly.

"Make it… make it go away."

He pulled back, his concerned gaze returning like before, "Does it not feel good? Does it hurt?"

She shook her head, "'s just too much…"

He chuckles, "Too much, how?"

She groaned, "I don't know."

Remus leaned forward and stretched his arm to wipe some sweat from her forehead, "Feels funny?"

She nods.

He sucked on his teeth, "That's how it's supposed to feel. It gets better, I promise. May I continue?" He asked as if he was the one getting pleasure for his actions.

And let's be honest, he was.

When she nods at him, he moves back.

Her body jerked as his nose brushed against her clit. She let out a whine at the unfamiliar feeling.

He grunts and wraps his arms around her thighs, keeping her from being able to wiggle around.

The spring in her stomach tightens again and the feeling returns.

She lets out an involuntary moan, blushing at the sound.

Remus groaned, vibrating everything between her legs, "Mmm. You sound lovely. You get that feeling again?"

She lets out a soft breath to answer his question. 

He smiles against her, "Good. Give into it. Let me make you feel good. You trust me?"

Her hand pulls at his curls again, "Please, Rem."

He couldn't help his teasing, "Please, what?"

She groaned, "Please, help me feel good, Remus. Please."

Remus laughed, "Anything you need."

She moaned again as the feeling continued.

If was like she was on fire, but also in ice.

Indescribable. 

The spring tightened until she thought she would snap. 

And the spring snapped.

She let out a shaky breath as she was overcome by a feeling of bliss and overstimulation.

But Remus didn't stop.

Not until she gently pulled at his hair, "Rem, please. Hurts..."

He leaned back, admiring his handiwork. "Pretty girl. Did so good for me."

His hands gently swiped the liquid onto his fingers, licking them sensually.

She spent the time catching her breath, not trusting her body to help her sit up.

He smiled and crawled over her. Another gentle kiss, but she cringed at the taste of herself on his lips.

"What?" He asked, "Don't like it? I think you taste wonderful. I'd have it be every meal if you'd let me."

Her cheeks blushed again and she caresses his curly hair, "Th..thank you, Remus."

"No problem, love. Just taking care of our needs, am I not?"

She nods.

His face rose with a cheeky smile, "Think I'll get to do it again soon?"

She smiled shyly at him.

Of course, he'd do it again soon.

.................................................

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 5)

paring: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 5 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

in twelve short hours, you were everything from drunk to lonely, to desperate to scared to anxious to content to happy to scared once again. it didn't help that lando was with you to experience all of it, it was worse that he still chose to stay

word count: 6.7k tags/warnings PLEASE READ: some mature themes including alcohol consumption, reference to not being in control of your body/surroundings, faint anxiety, subtle references to non-con situations (but no actual non-con acts, dont worry)

Lando held out his arm for you to use to balance yourself as you pulled your heels off. You tossed them to the side and sighed happily when your soles pressed against the hardwood floor. 

“Come on,” Lando encouraged, hand going to your back as he led you down the hall, “let's get you to bed.”

You had practically passed out in the car when Lando picked you up. You desperately wanted to stay up and talk to him, but you were drunk and tired and keeping your eyes open in a moving vehicle wasn’t doing anything for your intoxicated state of mind.

And now Lando was pushing open the bedroom door, keeping his mouth shut at the state of the room and the sight of your clothes piled up in the corner. You wanted to apologise for the mess but in your defence, no one was supposed to be here except you. 

“I’ll go get you some water, okay?” Lando waited until you were situated on the edge of the bed before leaving the room. You knew this was probably the best time for you to change out of the dress and put on something more comfortable but when you reached for the zipper that rested halfway down your back it became very clear that you could not rid this dress from your body alone. 

You weren’t sure how to ask Lando how to help you without him getting the wrong idea. It wasn’t that you wanted to strip in front of him but you also weren’t about to fall asleep in the dress you’ve been wearing for sixteen hours.

When Lando came back he put the glass of water on the bedside table, stepping over a curling iron that you had dangerously left in the middle of the floor. You watched silently as he adjusted the pillows against the headboard, fluffing them out for you. 

He glanced over his shoulder, probably wondering why you hadn’t moved an inch since he had left to get water. The way you sat there with uncertainty told him that the contents of everything you ate and drank were about to work their way up.

“Do I need to go get a bin for you?” Lando asked.

“What?” Your eyebrows pinched together. “No, no, I’m okay, I just-” you pointed to the back of your dress, “I need help.”

Lando was about to ask for clarification but then his gaze landed on the zipper. He let out a very quiet, ‘oh’ before walking towards you and helping you stand up. Your eyes locked for a second and even in the dimly lit bedroom, even when you needed a second to focus, the mix of green and gold in his irises had you forgetting what it was you just asked for help with. 

He probably got the hint that your request had vanished from your mind because Lando took it upon himself to gently spin you around. He collected your hair that was pinned back in a high ponytail and rested it over your shoulder. A chill travelled through you when his thumb brushed against your bare skin before he took hold of the zipper. 

There was a very strong chance he could hear your heart racing in your chest. 

Staggered breaths hit the back of your neck as he pulled the zipper down about halfway. His other hand found a home on your hip, his fingers lightly pressing against the silk orange material. 

“You do look stunning in this dress,” Lando whispered, eyes raking over the indents in your skin, the freckles on your back that he had never noticed before. 

“Oh but let me guess,” you rolled your eyes and attempted your best British accent, “It’d look better on the floor?” 

Lando laughed and your stomach turned in knots when he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your neck and it took everything in you not to reach up and tangle your fingers through them. His grip on your side tightened, only for a moment, before he inhaled quietly and lifted his head. 

You turned around and his hand on you loosened, but he didn't drop it from your side. You tried to focus on keeping eye contact with him, but your line of sight kept dropping to his lips.

Did you want him to kiss you?

Even if you were waiting for it, that moment wouldn't come. Not in the state you were in currently in. The most he did was lift his hands to cup your cheeks, dipping your face enough so he could kiss the top of your head.

And just because you were drunk and didn’t know how to react to a gesture as soft and caring as this, you relied on your usual banter to get you past this blurred line you found yourself standing on.

“That counts as one of your seconds.”

Lando dropped his hands from your face and stared at you, confusion written all over his features. Now that the material of the dress wasn’t constricted against your body, the straps hung loosely over your arms. It would take you less than a second to slip out of the garment, but that would be the alcohol making the decisions for you. 

“It absolutely does not,” he argued, not daring to let his eyes drop from yours, even if the loose dress hung lower on your chest than it was before.

“Yes it does.”

“You won’t remember it in the morning.”

“Yes I will.”

Lando didn’t believe you. He’d seen you drunk only twice before and that was at the club after the Miami grand prix, both this year and last. Which was horrible because you were technically underage at the 2022 event but with your brothers and the drivers keeping an eye on you, you knew you were fine.

Last year, you were a wild card. Switching from dancing one minute to chatting up strangers the next and everything in between all night long. The next morning, Lando had overheard Charles telling Carlos that you didn’t remember a thing. 

This year was no different. You let loose in Miami and the following morning, you had no recollection of anything that took place after the race. 

But you weren’t as drunk now as you were then. Or at least you thought that to be true. You were still in control of your actions. You could tell a bad decision from a good one. You knew that standing this close to Lando after missing him for the last week and half wasn’t a good idea but acting on the pull you felt towards him was an even worse one.

Lando lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face, the same strand that kept getting caught on your earring all night. 

“You are…” he took a deep breath, you couldn’t even begin to guess how he would finish that sentence. He might have wanted to compliment you again. Or he could have made a ridiculing comment about how he couldn’t handle you. The way he looked at you hinted towards a mixture of both sweet and sarcastic. 

But he didn’t voice the rest of his thoughts. Instead, Lando shook his head slowly and gave your hand a gentle squeeze before he stepped back.

“Get some sleep, yeah?”

Roles reversed when you found yourself refusing to let him go. The second his hand fell from yours, you grabbed it again and kept him from heading to the living room, undoubtedly where he was planning on spending the rest of the night. 

Because of course he would give you the bedroom, his bedroom. 

Lando cared about you more than you wanted to admit because that would mean you’d have to admit that you also cared about him. 

“Can you stay?” The question slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself. Maybe you weren’t in total control of your actions. 

“We both know that’s not a good idea.”

Lando was thinking clearly. He might have wanted to share a bed with you, but he knew how incoherent and intoxicated you were and if he was going to spend a night with you, the first night, he wanted you both to be sober for it.

“I think you should get ready for bed,” he changed the topic before you could fight him on his decision. Lando backed up and headed into his closet, grabbing one of the hoodies, his hoodies, from the hanger. He handed it to you, but didn’t stay, instead walking into the ensuite. “Do you have- oh, yes you do.” Lando walked back into the room holding a package of makeup wipes. He pulled the wrapping back to pull out a damp tissue.

Lando put the makeup wipe in your empty hand and then gestured with his chin to the hoodie, wordlessly reminding you that getting ready for bed was probably, definitely, the best thing for both of you. 

You nodded and walked into the bathroom to change. Lando wasn’t going to give in to what you wanted, but you were surprised to see him leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone when you walked back into the bathroom, fresh faced, in an oversized hoodie, and still quite drunk.

“Okay,” you flailed your arms to the side and Lando looked up, placing his phone on the tv stand. You’d be lying if you said you missed the way he smiled when he saw you in one of his jumpers, something that he thought he’d never see. 

“Water’s on the table,” he pointed out. “Try not to throw up in the bed-”

“I’m not going to throw up in the bed.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“I’m not that drunk,” you scoffed, but as you crossed your arms over your chest, you nearly lost your balance. You caught yourself, thankfully, but it only further proved Lando’s point that you were most likely not able to control whether or not you got sick during the night.

“Come on,” he pushed himself off the wall and stepped around you to pull the covers back on the bed. He nodded his head towards the very inviting mattress, “Bed, now.”

“I don’t need you to parent me.”

“I’m not parenting you, Y/N, it’s 1:30 in the morning and we should both be sleeping,” his little laugh that followed told you that he wasn’t all that mad about being awake right now, even if there were dark bags under his eyes and a couch that was calling his name.

You slid into the bed and pulled the blanket up to your chin. You were about ten seconds away from falling asleep, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to go. Before Lando could leave you for the rest of the night, you stuck your arm out of the blanket and grabbed his hand.

“I’m not staying,” Lando said with a soft laugh, already knowing what you were going to ask of him. 

As much as Lando wanted to crawl into bed next to you, he knew you’d regret it in the morning. You were drunk, you weren’t thinking straight, you just wanted company and you missed Lando and now that he was right in front of you, you didn’t want to let him go. 

But you wouldn’t want this if you were sober. You would be kicking him to the couch before he could even think about sliding into bed next to you. You’d be making a joke about how this would be the one and only time he’d ever help you undress. There would be more banter, more sarcasm, more eye rolls. 

Drunk you was funny, adorable, irresistible, even, but it wasn’t you. And Lando knew you too well, respected you too much, to take any sort of advantage over this scenario, even if you didn’t see it as such.

You covered your mouth with your other hand as you yawned and asked, “What about just until I fall asleep?”

That was the compromise. Much like how you could give him thirty seconds of pretending he wasn’t a driver instead of two minutes, you were hoping he would stay until your eyes closed. After that, he could go. It wasn’t like you’d be awake for much longer anyway.

“Please?” god you were begging now. That’s how Lando knew you were well past the point of intoxication. You’d rather die than ask him for anything. 

But maybe that’s why Lando eventually gave in, because this would be the only time you’d ever ask him to lay with you. There was a very strong chance this would be the first and last time he’d be able to crawl into bed and hold you against his side as you fell asleep with your head on his chest. 

Lando sighed quietly and nodded, trying not to let his happiness show when your face lit up as he walked around to the other side of the bed. He didn’t get under the blanket, he was smarter than that, if he let himself get comfortable he’d never get up. 

So he got on top of the blanket as you curled yourself into his side. Lando rested one arm behind his head and used the other arm to pull you closer. Immediately, you abandoned the pillows he had so nicely fluffed for you and used his chest as a pillow instead. 

You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek and found comfort in it, much like how he found solace with each breath you took as your eyelashes fluttered shut. 

He gently played with your hair and his fingers against your scalp had you smiling as fatigue took over your body. 

Lando kept his gaze on you the entire time. Waiting to see if he could tell when you fell asleep, hoping to find out if you were someone who snored or spoke when you were sleeping. 

You twitched against him, indicating that you were definitely no longer awake, but Lando stayed there for an extra minute or two to make sure of it. He wished he could have stayed there all night, but you would lose it on him in the morning if you woke up next to him.

It didn’t matter how bad you wanted him now, it wasn’t real. 

And that was the reality that convinced Lando to carefully slide out of bed. He didn’t even allow himself to sneak one more look at you before walking out of the room, dragging his hand through his hair and wondering what it would take for you to want him like this tomorrow and the next day and every day after that.

——————

You wished you knew how you ended up back at Lando’s place last night, but the details were fuzzy and your head was still spinning as you slowly came to that morning. 

You remembered saying bye to the bride and groom before getting into a black car. Did you order an uber? If yes, what else did you buy last night? You wouldn’t have been surprised if you asked the driver to stop at a drive-thru for a late night burger and fries. 

Reaching towards the bedside table, you blindly searched for your phone and was met with a glass of water instead. The force of your hand knocked it sideways and you sat up in a panic. 

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing a pillow to cover the spill up. You weren’t an irresponsible drunk per say, but it was unlike you to pour yourself some water when you came home after a night out. 

You rubbed your hand over your face, fully expecting to see mascara smudged on the pads of your fingers when you pulled your hand back, but it was clean. You had absolutely no recollection of taking your makeup off before bed. 

And then you noticed the baby blue sleeve covering your arm. You pulled at the material against your chest and made out the white Quadrant logo printed on the jumper. This was Lando’s hoodie. 

There was no fucking way you went into his closet and willingly put it on. 

You climbed out of bed, ignoring the faint pounding happening in your head and praying it would go away after you made yourself something to eat. You were lucky, you didn’t struggle too badly with hangovers, instead you struggled with filling in the gaps of what happened the night prior. 

You made your way down the hall with the sole intent of making a plate of eggs and bacon and then crawling right back into bed. There was a carton of eggs in the fridge and you already knew where everything in the kitchen was after making the most of it and all of its spacious glory these last two weeks. 

So you grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and cracked an egg into it. After tossing out the shell, you grabbed a second egg.

“Morning.”

And then you used that second egg as a weapon.

You spun on your heels and threw it in the direction of where the voice came from, which just so happened to be from the hallway right outside the bathroom door. A normal reaction would have been to scream or jump at the thought of an intruder being in the home, but no, you relied on a goddamn egg to save your life. 

At least your aim was good. It hit the ‘intruder’ right in the chest but you covered your mouth with your hands when you realised who you had just gotten egg yolk all over. 

Lando stood there, yellow staining the cotton in the centre of his shirt as yolk dripped to the floor. A few broken shells clung to him, but the majority of it was on the floor near his feet. 

Any other day, you would have apologised for the mess you caused. 

But any other day, you probably would have been made aware if you were in the same room as Lando.

“I prefer my eggs scrambled, but sure, this works,” Lando nodded, accepting that this was the reality he had woken up to. He stepped over the eggshells and reached for the roll of paper towels that was in the corner of the kitchen. 

All you could do was stand there with your back against the fridge as you tried to piece together the events of last night.

Did Lando pick you up? You didn’t even know he was in London. This flat only had one bedroom, you didn’t share a bed did you? Maybe he showed up this morning, but why would he show up unannounced? 

You yanked on the collar of your jumper, his jumper, “Was this your doing?” 

Was that really the question that took priority right now? 

Lando barely glanced up from trying to clean himself off, “You’re asking if, in your intoxicated state, I got you naked and forced a Quadrant jumper on you? Yes, Y/N that’s exactly what I did.”

Now that you heard it out loud, the idea was pretty preposterous. Lando was annoying in plenty of ways, but he wouldn’t cross a line like that. 

But he basically confirmed being with you last night.

You dragged your hand through your hair, still attempting to put the pieces together yourself as you grabbed a towel from the drawer and held it under the stream of water from the kitchen skin. 

“Did you pick me up last night?” You asked, crossing the kitchen and walking over to him. Lando tossed the crumpled paper towel on the counter and didn’t say anything as you dabbed the cloth over his shirt, trying to get the egg out. 

“You asked me to,” he answered, already sounding defensive. 

“When did you get to London?”

“I arrived in the UK a few days ago, but I just got to London yesterday.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” You stretched out the material of his shirt, trying not to notice his tanned skin underneath or the fact that he had a v-line that disappeared into the hem of his grey sweats. 

“I did tell you,” he chuckled. “When you called me last night.”

“I called you?” Your eyebrows pinched together, trying to focus on the yolk stain but the timeline of events slowly being put together was a bit distracting. The frustration that you couldn’t remember any of it but Lando could was being taken out on his shirt. “Why would I call you?”

“I don’t know, but it was right after I commented on your post.”

You remembered posting the three pictures, but didn’t remember any notifications that followed, “What did you say?”

“That you looked good in orange.”

“Why did you-” you cut yourself off, annoyed for a handful of reasons and you threw the towel on the counter beside you. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t care!” You forced yourself to smile, wanting to make the best out of this situation but Lando saw right through it. You backed up, glancing between his eyes and the stain on his shirt, “You should throw it on the wash.”

“Oh if anyone needs to do laundry, it's you,” Lando laughed, “I saw the pile of clothes in the bedroom. Have you done any washing since you’ve been here?”

He was in the bedroom with you?

Lando meant it as a joke, trying to poke fun of the mess you made in his home, but the instant he saw the panic sink in, he knew he said the wrong thing. 

“Woah, hey don’t worry, nothing happened last night,” Lando quickly assured you. Still, your heart was racing and it only intensified when he stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulders, “I promise, Y/N, nothing happened. I didn’t even sleep in the room, I wouldn’t do that, you were drunk. I like you but I’m not- I wouldn’t have dared try anything,” he painfully swallowed at the thought that you might not believe him. “I gave you the jumper and those cleaning wipe things, you changed in the bathroom, I laid with you for like five minutes until you passed out and then I left. I slept out here. I promise.”

You still felt uneasy at the idea of Lando being with you when you were in such a vulnerable state. You had no control of your actions, no memory, just his word that nothing happened and you wanted to believe him, but you weren’t an idiot. You were a girl and you needed your walls to be up, it was the unfortunate world you were brought into. 

You had heard horror stories of friends thinking they could trust the guys they were with only to be proven wrong in the worst ways.

You shook Lando’s hands off of you, putting space between your bodies again.

Lando watched as you turned your back on him to try and go back to making your breakfast. He noticed your fingers trembling as you grabbed another egg and cracked it into the bowl. A couple shells landed with the yolk and you swore under your breath. 

He approached you hesitantly and when he put his hand on your back you flinched and tried to step away from him again. 

“Don’t-” you tensed. “Please, Lando just don’t touch me right now.”

He held his hands up defensively and glanced at the eggs, “I was just going to say I can do this. Go take a shower or go back to bed for a bit, let me make breakfast.”

“Breakfast in bed isn’t going to make me trust your word,” you said. Your stomach twisted, but not in the butterfly kind of way. It was the kind of knot that made you feel physically sick. “You don’t get it, Lando, this probably isn’t something you’ve ever had to worry about. But I don’t remember anything from last night and I’m just supposed to believe that you didn’t do something? I didn’t even know you were in the city until right now, I can’t-” you shook your head. “I want to believe you, really, but when I woke up this morning I thought I was alone in this flat so already this is not off to a good start.”

You grabbed a fork from the drawer and tried to fish out the broken shell, ignoring Lando just watching you. When it was clear that you were too anxious and on edge to try and make breakfast, you dropped the fork to the sink and declared you were giving up. You didn’t even let Lando get another word in before you walked down the hall towards the room, slamming the door after you. 

You peeled the quadrant hoodie off of you and threw it in the corner of the room. You felt gross and even if he really hadn’t done anything, there was a sickeningly crawling feeling that spread through your body. 

A shower was the first step to get rid of it. Rid yourself of last night, of the wedding, of everything that was said or done within the last twenty four hours. You turned on the water and stepped in, letting your senses drown in the steam and scalding hot water.

You rubbed your hands over your face, taking in a few deep breaths before reaching for the bar of soap. 

The longer you stood there, the more you thought about how you might have overreacted. 

You had every reason to be paranoid. Every person who woke up in that same scenario would be, but it was Lando. 

Lando wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or betray you. He wouldn’t take advantage of you. The worst he might do is take a photo of you blackout drunk and use it as black mail, but he would never, ever put you in an unsafe position.

Even in your drunken state, you must have known that. Why else would you have called him? You weren’t someone who ever went home with a stranger or had one night stands with a person whose name you would forget in the morning, but you called Lando. 

He was the one you wanted to be with at the end of the night. 

You didn’t know what time you left the wedding, but you could imagine it was late. It wouldn’t have surprised you to know that Lando didn’t hesitate before grabbing his keys to drive to you because he’d rather take you home than let you get in a car with a stranger. He was letting you stay at his flat for christ sakes, this man would do anything for you. 

He was wholesomely trying to work his way up your driver ranking, slowly, cautiously, all while gaining more and more of your trust as the days went on. He wanted you to like him. He wouldn’t jeopardise your friendship by any means. 

Also, he’d have 19 drivers on the grid to answer to if he ever did try anything. And some team principals. And your other brothers. 

Lando liked you and there had been a few blurred lines within the last couple weeks, but he wouldn’t dare cross one like this.

When you finished showering, you were a bit more clear headed than you were after your alarming first few minutes of being awake. You took your time washing your face but decided to let your hair air-dry. His hoodie in the corner of the room wasn’t one you reached for, but it didn’t cause you to tense up when you looked at it. 

You put on a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt instead and after telling yourself one more time that Lando was someone you could trust, you walked out of the room. 

His back was towards you as he sang along to whatever song was playing on his phone. He had cleaned up the mess that was on the floor and changed shirts so there was no trace of the egg you had thrown at him.

He didn’t hear you leave the bedroom, too engrossed in putting the finishing touches on breakfast. He had pulled out everything he could from the fridge to make a few omelettes. You saw two plates each with toast already on them and from the smell of it, it seemed like he was about done.

Lando then heard your quiet footsteps as you approached and he glanced over his shoulder to give you a shy smile, “Hey, sit down, breakfast is about ready.”

But you didn’t sit. Instead, you walked right up to him and slid your arms around his waist to hug him from behind. You pressed your cheek to his back and let out a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

He hesitated. You weren't usually one to make any sort of move like this towards him, but then rested his hand over yours and chuckled softly. He could feel your hair dampen his shirt and he was a little constricted in his movements as he tried to finish cooking, but he didn’t care. 

You were hugging him. That’s the only thing that mattered.  

“I’m not going to apologise for reacting the way I did,” you whispered. “But I know now that you wouldn’t ever-”

“I kissed the top of your head,” Lando interjected. You could feel his body tense as he inhaled a sharp breath.

You lifted your head from his back right as Lando turned to face you. You could see the guilt painted all over his face. He looked as though he was confessing to a crime.

"You-" there was no memory of that exchange. "You did what?"

“You asked me to help you with the zipper on your dress and I did but then I kissed the top of your head and I know I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry,” Lando admitted. “And then you told me that it counted as one of my twelve seconds, which I think is a little dramatic, but I’m still sorry."

"Lando, if all you did was kiss the top of my head, I think we're fine," you assured him, your words were followed by a light hearted laugh, but he still wanted to apologize.

"I didn’t even think about how you would react this morning seeing me and I understand now why you acted the way you did, I wouldn’t trust any person who was in my house if I woke up after a night out either." He didn't even want to put himself in your shoes. "I promise, next time you call me at midnight to pick you up I will take you straight home and I’ll walk you to the door but I won’t come inside because-”

“Next time?” your eyebrows furrowed together. Granted, that was not the most important part of his little ramble, but it was the part that stood out. “You think there’s going to be a next time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Lando answered too confidently. “Because you know I’ll drop anything for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. All you could do was look up at him, trying to tell if he was being truthful or not. 

You laughed it off, “No you wouldn’t.”

All Lando did was raise his eyebrows. He wasn’t going to try and convince you he was being honest, he was going to let you believe what you wanted to believe. He turned and grabbed the handle of the pan to slide the omelette onto a plate before handing it to you.

You took it without exchanging another word and went and sat down at the dining room table. Lando joined a minute later with his own plate and added salt and pepper to his. You grabbed a forkful and waited for it to cool off before eating it, pleasantly surprised at how it tasted. 

You thought you were a better cook than Lando, but you might just be wrong.

“So,” you quickly swallowed, “If we were to date, who would do the cooking in the relationship?”

“Don’t,” Lando barely looked at you before he stood up to grab a few glasses of water.

You put your fork down and stared after him, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t tease that,” He clarified with a faint laugh. “Don’t tease a relationship.”

“It’s a hypothetical question, I’m not teasing anything.”

Lando rolled his eyes as he sat back down, sliding you one of the glasses. He took a large sip before finally answering, “Fine. Hypothetically, we would both cook.”

“And the cleaning?”

He took a quick look around the flat. He didn’t have to say anything, you got the hint. You had stuff thrown everywhere. Shoes, jackets, empty bottles of sparkling water. You didn’t pack much for this trip but surprisingly, none of it was in the suitcase anymore or properly put away. This wasn’t your flat but you sure made yourself at home.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, you’ll do the cleaning.”

“Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically,” you agreed. 

Lando took a few more bites before he kept going with this topic, “Would you come to the races?”

“I already do.”

“As my girlfriend,” he added, speaking with his mouthful. “Not as Charles’ sister.” He took another bite and then finished with, “Hypothetically.”

You inhaled a breath, leaning against the back of the chair. You avoided his eyes as you picked at the food on your plate. 

It wasn’t a genuine question but at the same time, you both knew it was. Calling it a hypothetical was a safety net. Something to fall back on if one of you said something that the other didn’t agree with. Or worse, if you both said all the right answers. 

“I think it would be like shared custody,” you eventually said with a hint of a smile. You kept the tone playful, but still answered as truthfully as you could, “One race with Ferrari, the next with McLaren and I’d keep going back and forth.”

Lando rolled his eyes and scoffed, “I don’t want to share you.”

“Hypothetically,” you included at the end of that sentence because he seemed to forget that this scenario wasn't real.

Lando’s eyebrow twitched as he took a sip of water, not agreeing to that final word. Hinting at the fact that maybe he was telling the truth in that sense. He didn’t want to share you.

He didn’t want you to hang out in the Ferrari garage. He didn’t want to see you flirting with Carlos. He didn’t want you spending your nights in hotels or air bnb’s away from him. He would never say that out loud, knowing how possessive it would sound. But what you didn’t know wouldn’t kill either of you. 

“Hypothetically, I’d be able to kiss my girlfriend for more than twelve seconds,” Lando said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. 

You pointed your fork at him, “You mean eleven?”

“Oh so you are counting the head kiss from last night?”

“Yes.”

He nodded with a sigh, “I understand.”

That’s how the rest of breakfast went, trading hypothetical questions that held a bit more truth to them than either of you were willing to admit. He finished eating before you did, but sat at the table and waited for you to finish. He laughed when he pointed out you had spinach stuck in your teeth, but he quickly stopped laughing when you threw half of your toast at him. 

When your plate was empty, Lando grabbed it and made a comment about how he would do the cleaning, remember? You followed him to the kitchen and tried to help him with the dishes but he just playfully pushed you away. When you tried to remind him that he cleaned up after you made pizza that first night and it was only fair that you help this time, he pretended to be deaf. 

Lando held out his arm to block you from grabbing the used pans and when you tried to step around him on the other side he just backed up and kept backing up until you were fully out of the kitchen. 

“Sit down,” he demanded, trying to sound as stern as possible as he pointed at the couch. 

And just because he was really cute when he tried to sound intimidating, you held your hands up in surrender and sat down on the couch. You watched him clean for a bit but then you spotted your phone on the coffee table, surprisingly not dead. 

You answered Charles’ text asking how the wedding was and Arthur’s message asking for a life update because you had accidentally ignored the his last four calls. You texted him and promised that you’d call him later, not even annoyed that he was checking in on you so much. You were lucky to have such protective and caring brothers. 

You didn’t let yourself think about how livid Charles would be if he knew where you were right now. 

There was nothing on social media about you being spotted with Lando, so you were in the clear for the time being. But if you left the flat with him, surely people would find out.

“What are you doing today?” You asked, looking up from your phone screen to see him finishing up. He wiped his hands on his sweats and had to think about it for a second. 

“Whatever you’re doing,” he landed on. 

He walked to the back of the couch and leaned forward, dipping his head next to yours. You had to crane your neck to meet his gaze and you were momentarily caught off guard by the way the sunlight seeping through the window hit the side of his face, more specifically showcasing the stunning array of colours in his eyes. 

“Tu as de beaux yeux,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. Lando gave you a look of confusion before you realised that you had complimented him in French. Maybe that was for the better. If you had complimented him in a language he understood, he’d hold it against you forever. 

But it was true. He had beautiful eyes. 

“What did you just say?” Lando asked quietly. 

“I said you smell like eggs.”

Lando rolled his eyes and tugged on your hair, knowing that you were not only lying, but trying to be annoying as well. 

“I have a proposition for you,” he then said, clasping his fingers together over the back of the couch. “We can do whatever you want today, if you let me plan what we do tomorrow.”

“What makes you think I want to hang out with you tomorrow?”

“Hypothetically, my girlfriend should always want to hang out with me.”

Your eyes widened for a second at the mock arrogance as you turned back to your phone, “Someone’s a little full of themselves today, hey?”

Lando snatched your phone out of your hands and tossed it onto the loveseat, ensuring he’d have your full attention as he jumped over the back of the couch to sit next to you. You expected some banter to follow after that comment, but when you met his eyes you could see a deep weight of concern in them.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line last night,” Lando said quietly.

“By kissing my head?” You asked and Lando nodded. He was so sweet. You reached forward and rested your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I like to think your intentions were good.”

Of course they were. He made sure you had changed out of your dress and washed your face before crawling into bed. He got you a glass of water. You still couldn’t get over the fact that he picked you up from the wedding in the first place.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you told him. It was genuine appreciation. Usually you were on your own. Sometimes if you were with Charles or Arthur during a night out, they’d walk you to your room but they’d make a joke about how you were an idiot for drinking so much. They wouldn’t stay longer than they needed to. 

“I like taking care of you.”

You rolled your eyes, covering half of your face with your hand as you rested your elbow on the back of the couch, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

Because then you’d really start to like him. Because then you’d rethink your no dating drivers rule. Because then all of these hypotheticals would turn into the real thing. It was bad enough that he already made you feel uncharacteristically giddy in his presence and that he had a calming aura that pulled you to him when it was just the two of you alone.

You pulled your eyes from his and inhaled a deep breath, reaching for the remote to turn the tv on, “You just can’t.”

Lando couldn’t say things like that because what started as meaningless flirting was now starting to sound real. He was only supposed to work his way up your driver standings, not work his way into your life, your thoughts, your heart. He had to tone it down before it got any worse.

But deep down, you feared it might already be too late. 

masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia @alesainz @fandomxs1 if i missed some people im so sorry

[katzenmas]

I CRAVE A PART THREE OF CREEP TATTOO ARTIST READER PLEASEEEE

(IF NOT THATS FINE I REALLY WANNA BE MOOTS THOUGH)

LILYY HELLO I WAS LITERALLY JUSY READING YOUR FIC AJSHNSHDHA I'M SCREAMING!!! MDNI: Smut, pervert!reader, dub-con, afab reader, ghoap x reader, johnny is also a pervert i can not help myself, sub simon Two days after Simon's tattoo was done and he changed his second skin he found himself unable to fall asleep. His mind was preoccupied with the tattoo artist. He tried to get himself to believe that he did not like her lingering touches in places where her hands should not have been, but he wasn't a man that was too keen on lying, even to himself.

So that's how he found himself entering the shop again the next evening. He saw you, tattooing a man's upper thigh. his eyes darted to your left hand that was casually gripping the blue eyed man's bulge through his boxers and the shit eating grin on his face told Simon that he was quite enjoying the touch.

your eyes snapped up to him and a smile broke out on your face. your foot left the paddle and the tattoo gun stopped whirring in your hand.

"Johnny, I'd like you to meet mister stiffy, otherwise known as the newbie that decided to get a full sleeve" the man-johnny let out an amused laugh and raked his eyes over simon, something glinting in the icy blues.

"What can I help you with?" The smile on your lips looked sweet, but your hungry eyes made Simon feel as if he was being watched by a predator, his cock twitching at the thought in his pants.

"Need some more second skin" he grumbled out, hoping the excuse was believable enough. you nodded your head over to a built-in cabinet in the wall and Simon got the clue.

"It should be right next to the cherry flavored lube" Johnny called out and Simon thought he was joking, until he opened the cabinet and was greeted by what seemed like a small sex shop right next to the second skin he needed.

it had everything. There were different kinds of lubes, condoms, handcuffs, edible underwear and a leather muzzle. it looked so out of place that it rendered simon motionless as he studied the muzzle with curious eyes. his fingers brushed against the leather straps as he tried to imagine what you used this for, who you used it on.

" Does that interest you?" Simon's breath hitched. you were behind him, your chin almost touching his shoulder as you leaned down over his crouched form and looked at the muzzle. Simon looked back at you, his eyes burning as they momentarily darted down to look at your lips.

that seemed to be your undoing. you slotted your lips over his and simon closed his eyes. you tasted sweet as you moved your mouth over his, your hands clutched at his shoulders and you moved simon closer towards you.

A cough got Simon to pull away. He looked over to the chair where Johnny was sitting, waiting for you to return and finish his tattoo. Instead of annoyance, Simon found the man's gaze to be burning with hunger.

"ya gonna finish this or are ye givin' me a show so i cannae forget 'bout the pain?'' Johnny's scottish accent paired with your hands on his body had Simon aching in his jeans, the pressure bordering on painful so he shifted. your gaze fell back on him and you cupped simon through his pants.

"want to be a good boy for us?" The speed with which Simon nodded his head was almost embarrassing. you could've asked him to assassinate the queen and he'd do it if it meant your hands were still palming his cock.

you smiled and clutched at simon's shirt as you led him over to the chairs. your lips found his again as you sat down on one of the chairs and brought his head down to continue the kiss, deft fingers tugging on his short strands as your tongue did wicked things to him.

Simon tried to grind against your core, feel something so he could relieve the pressure on his cock but you tutted and broke the kiss. faux disappointment shone in your eyes as you pushed down on his shoulders and got him to kneel in front of you, face to face with your spread thighs.

"stupid puppy, you have to be good for us and then you can get your reward." you chided and slowly slid your pants off, leaving in your gray panties that had a wet spot at the front. Simon felt his mouth water.

" go on puppy, we’re waitin’ " johnny was behind simon, leaving kisses on the side of his neck.

Simon kissed you through your underwear first, then he hooked his fingers through the flimsy garment and ripped. Before you could chew him out over the ruined pair of panties his nose was buried in your cunt. Tongue wildly lapping at your folds, teeth nibbling at your swollen clit. The soft sounds that left your mouth were egging him on, made him slip one finger into your tight cunt while he sucked on your clit.

With a cry you arched your back off the chair and gushed all over Simon, but he was not letting up. He cleaned you up through the aftershocks of your orgasm, each shudder and whine going straight to his weeping cock. Through the haze of it all he looked up at you with his honey brown eyes and bit down on your thigh, hard.

Only to get yanked away by his neck the second his teeth make contact with your soft skin. Johnny’s hand was rough and unforgiving on Simon, the fury in his icy eyes made Simon shiver.

“ Mutts like you don’t get tae bite what’s mine” Johnny seethed and suddenly there was a wight over Simon's face and leather was biting into his skin. Johnny fucking muzzled him.

“Ya ken yer goin’ tae get away with that? Stupid untrained mutt, cannae even eat pussy without bitin’ “ Johnny’s hands were as fast as his words as he undid Simon’s jeans and pulled his weeping cock out, the red sticky wetness gathering on his swollen red tip made the scot laugh.

“Like a bitch in heat” You said from your place up on the chair as you watched Simon with a cruel smile. - I'M SORRY I SWEAR THEY WILL FUCK IF I DO WRITE A PART 4 I JUST HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WANT THEM TO DO IT 😭

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I'd hate myself if I didn't do something for Valentine's day so we're going to pretend it's not the day after!!! 🎀🎀

If nobody else is gonna bring back smoking during sex then goddamn it I will

STAINED RED

Valentines day with Daryl Dixon, your own way.

Happy Valentines Day - D.D

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You hummed to yourself as your hands brushed and curled your hair, making sure it looked just right for the night ahead. It was Valentine's day and you so badly wanted to celebrate it with Daryl, which is why you had planned the romantic night the day that Eugene had made the announcement that the holiday was in a week. It gave you enough time to find and decide on what to get him, stumbling upon a department store on one of your secret runs.

The first half of his gift was a red button-up to match the other half, which was the skimpy party dress you had on, one you knew would drive him insane. You also made him a card with crayons, considering the two of you didn't talk much about gifts.

Standing in front of the full body mirror, running your hands down your sides as you turned around, checking yourself out. The way the dress hugged your hips, complimented by the heels you had on, fuck you turning yourself on.

The oven timer went off downstairs, and you quickly dragged some lipstick over your plush lips, a dark red in contrast to the lighter fabric. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you carefully went down the stairs, grabbing the oven mitt and opening the oven, poking the meat with a knife.

Daryl was supposed to be coming any minute, agreeing to get ready at Carol's house so the two of you would keep your clothes on.

The table was already set and the scent from some of the candles set a warm ambiance, the added smell of cooked venison. You cut the meat into slices, plating the thick pieces next to some mixed vegetables and a scoop of mashed potatoes, topped with brown gravy.

You poured two cups of wine and tuned the ratty radio until it landed on a smooth jazz station. As you did that, the front door creaked open and you turned to see Daryl, heart pounding as he looked so damn good in red. "Hot damn girl" He whispered breathlessly, closing the door behind him as he stepped forward, placing a hand on your waist as his eyes raked your whole body. "Could say the same for you, handsome" You giggled and Daryl's heartbeat stopped for a second, your smile standing out much more with the lipstick. "What'cha hidin?" Your eyes flickered down to his one hand behind his back. He smirked and revealed a large black bag.

He handed it to you silently, watching your face contort as you opened it and were hit with an intense smell of weed, the smell immediately filling the room. "Where did you-?" You walked over to the counter and pulled a sticky bud out, heels clacking as you fished around for something to smoke with. "I still wanted ta get ya some flowers, but I found flower instead" Daryl eyed the plates of food but moved his gaze up to your figure, licking his lips as he once again drank in the sight of you in that dress.

The feeling of rolling the bud pieces into a thin piece of paper was one you truly missed, dragging your tongue across the edge and pinching it shut, turning to Daryl with the newly rolled joint hanging from your lips. He fished out the lighter that he always kept on him and held your hip as he held it, watching you take a deep, long pull before plucking it out your mouth, coming close to Daryl as if to kiss him, blowing the smoke past his parted lips then holding the joint up to them.

"The food is getting cold" You whispered, watching him take a long drag of his own before pulling the joint away, the dining room becoming hazy with smoke. "Microwave 'em real quick" Daryl mumbled, taking another hit before you snatched it out his mouth, sticking it in your own and turning to heat the food up. "Sit down, Dixon" You slammed the microwave door shut and started it for a few minutes, heels clicking as you walked over to Daryl and straddled his lap, taking a finally hit before dropping the butt onto the floor, stomping it out as you pulled Daryl by his collar and clashed your lips together, exhaling the smoke into his mouth along with the air, kissing his jaw and neck as he coughed. "Ya smearin' yer lipstick" Daryl cleared his throat as you looked at him, dark lipstick in fact smeared onto your cheek. It was worth it, considering Daryl's skin was littered in red kiss marks.

You gave him one final kiss, going to retrieve the plates of food out the microwave. As the weed was really starting to flow through your system, your stomach rumbled as the smell of meat filled the air again, not strong enough to over power the joint.

Daryl wondered how he got so lucky with you each time he ate your food, the taste even better with his heightened senses. "M'gon marry you" He spoke around a mouthful of potatoes, staring at you with lidded reddening eyes. You leaned your head against your hand as you ran your heel up his shin. "Dude, we're like, already married" You laughed while finishing off your vegetables, stuffing a piece of venison into your mouth. Your heel kicked his shin, trailing up it a few time before Daryl reached and blindly yanked it, lurching you forward into the table and knocking over the forgotten wine glasses.

“This was supposed to be romantic” You pounded your fists on the table, not actually angry. Daryl shrugged, teeth pulling at a tougher piece of meat. “Still romantic just in our own way. Ya did real good gorgeous” He leaned back in the chair as he winked at you, undoing the first few buttons of that sinful shirt. You suddenly remembered you didn’t have on any underwear, cunt starting to throb. “M’gonna roll another” You gathered the fallen cups and your empty plate as you did, taking Daryl’s and snagging his last piece. He couldn’t argue, not with the way your legs moved and your hips swayed.

Daryl ran a hand through his hair, much curlier and softer since he took a really long shower before coming here, even adding some cologne Carol had mysteriously given him. He thought you hadn’t noticed it, but you did, and you wanted to smell him up close and personally. You become absolutely feral when your man was smelling and looking clean.

You came back with a much bulker and longer joint, once again straddling Daryl’s lap as he brought the lighter to the end, and a hand to your hip.

He watched your blood red lips as they took a deep and somehow sensual pull, so long that a chunk of burnt ash fell from the end, you quickly swatting it out the way so it didn’t land on your husband. You coughed as Daryl plucked the joint from you and brought it to his own lips, eyes lingering on the lipstick stain forming around the filter. He knew there were similar stains forming on his skin, especially as you kissed and sucked at his neck, grinding your hips down in the process.

Daryl leaned his head back as he continued taking drags from the joint, groaning softly as you lavashed his throat, hands drowning in his soft hair. You could feel his bulge right in between your dripping folds, and ground down hair, moaning as your clit rubbed against him. His free hand rested on your hip, roaming up your waist and travel down the swell of your ass, feeling how your tight dress had rode up to reveal your bare cheeks. “Got dessert already waitin’ fer me?” He picked his head up, bringing the joint to your lips as he lifted you onto the table, kneeling in front of you as you spread your legs, which he threw over his shoulders.

A wanton moan came from your chest as Daryl’s tongue was on you instantly, your hand gripping his hair as the other held the joint, occasionally tossing your head back and hitting it, releasing the smoke with a deep pleasured groan. Your whole body buzzed with warmth and fire as Daryl’s tongue worked between your folds, slipping into your hole before pulling out and moving to lap at your clit once more. His own cock throbbed and pulsated in his pants, the taste of your cunt so much sweeter on his high tastebuds.

He licked and slurped at your folds as if he hadn’t eaten minutes prior, tongue coming up to your clit only to suction his lips around it, beginning to suck as his fingers came to tease your folds.

You whimpered as the thick digits slid in, roach of a joint pinched tightly between your fingers. Your eyes rolled back as Daryl started to thrust and curl his fingers slowly but steadily, sending fire through your body. It felt so good but you just needed more, yanking Daryl’s head back. “Bend me over this goddamn table” You said more breathlessly than intended, jerking slightly when Daryl pulled his fingers out and rose to his feet, hovering over you and pressed his cock against your still stimulated cunt. “Yes ma’am” He whispered deep from his chest as he softly kissed you, pushing you to lean further back as he freed his hard cock, groaning into each other’s mouth when the tip slapped against your clit. His hand dragged the head between your folds, not wasting anytime as he fully rammed himself inside, your jaw going slack as it knocked the wind out you.

Daryl readjusted your legs on his hips, slowly rocking before quickly building speed, a deep moan in your chest as his cock easily thrusted into your sweet spot, each one getting increasingly quicker. “Oh God baby just like that” You dropped your head down to shut your eyes, but they caught on where Daryl was sliding in and out of you. He leaned his head against yours to watch as well, hands groping your waist. “M’gonna fuck yer brain out” You bit your lips and gripped the back of his neck. “That’s all I want you to do”

At those words, he pulled away from you suddenly, throbbing cunt clenching desperately around nothing until Daryl flipped you onto your stomch, collecting your curled hair into a sloppy hand held ponytail and yanking you back onto his cock, sliding so so much deeper than before, resuming his pace at higher velocity, moans beginning to uncontrollably fall from your smeared lips. “My lil valentine all nice ‘nd stuffed, gonna give ya lottas cum, kay?” Daryl’s words were going straight to his dick and into your cunt, eyes rolling into the back of your goddamn skull when he yanked you back by the hair, hand releasing the strands only to wrap around your throat, each strangle gasp and cry vibrated under his palm. He really could snap your delicate neck, not that he would but fuck if you wouldn’t let him.

He leaned down so that you could be flush against his chest, other hand grabbing your hip and occasionally sliding up to the bunched up fabric of your dress. He kept his hand comfortably tight around you, kissing and licking your bare shoulders. His hips sped up as he continued marking your skin, groping you hip as the hand around your throat tighten. You knew he was close, and you were almost off the edge yourself, so close, so close until you were toppling over, broken and choked moans coming from your lips. Daryl’s hips slowed to a stop, and he moved to release your throat but was stopped by your hand. “What happened to ‘lotts of cum’? I want my guts scrambled all night, Mr.Dixon” You turned to him and pouted, clenching around his still hard cock. He hummed, before pulling out and once again flipping you over, only you yelped as he fell down onto the seat with you in his grasp, fully seating you down onto his cock. “Ride me, gorgeous” Daryl gripped your hips, smiling up at you as curls fell into his face. His cheeks, jaw and lips all adorned dark red smooch marks, along with his neck and the hickies sucked into the skin.

Your man was just too fucking fine, gripping his face and licking into his mouth, beginning to bounce as he happily allowed you entrance, tongues pressing against one another as you slid your finger tips into his hair, heels firmly on the ground as your hips increased their pace. You pulled away from Daryl, a string of saliva still connecting your lips before your head lulled to the side, hand eagerly tugging your straps off and grabbing your tits, lewding moaning as you squeezed and pinched your nipples, grinding down and bouncing harder down.

One of your hands slid down and began rubbing circles in your clit. With the hand still rolling your boob, you grabbed Daryl’s face and shove it between your squishy tits, wildly moaning as you stimulated your whole cunt, cock hitting such a soft and sensitive spot inside you. “Love when ya take control ta get wha’ ya want” Daryl mumbled into the soft skin of your breasts, bringing the one your fingers pulled at into his mouth, feeling the way you convulsed around him, moaning as your hips stuttered and head dropped against Daryl’s shoulder. Your hand pulled from your sensitive cunt, however you stayed seat on Daryl’s cock.

It was quiet for a few moments, before your lips were trailing the side of his jaw. “Still not done, woman?” Daryl ran his hands up your side, rolling his hips up into you. “Nope. Carry me into the bedroom. Bring my weed” You giggled against him, legs wrapping around him when he rose to his feet, cock still buried deep inside. “Happy Valentines day m’beloved” He whispered taking only a few steps before pinning you against a wall, unleashing an attack on your neck as he started to move his hips, smiling softly against your skin as he did. You were in for a long, long night.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

© norman-fucking-reedus 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, or adpated to any other platform. You may translate my works with my asked and given consent.

[emotionoitme]

human, for a minute

part three of about a girl

read part two here

carmy berzatto x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of a stalker, mutual pining feels, crying, carmen in denial, a hint of steaminess

wc: 4.7k

a/n: angst chapter!!!!! i hope i make u all cry >:) please leave me a comment to let me know what you think! <3 i’ll be posting a spotify playlist link on my page for the series soon. if you’re enjoying the story stay tuned for one more part!

shame - human, for a minute

the phone rings again, for what seems to be the fiftieth time, blaring through the restaurant in a piercing shrill. clamor of utensils and dishware, the occasional shout of instruction breaking the static noise. the man feels a headache creeping on, trying to force himself to not check the clock again. it hadn’t been long since he last checked it, and he knew he would regret it the moment he did. his eyes dart upwards. it’s 1:35. 

she wasn't supposed to come in until 3, scheduled to close that night, he reminds himself. in that moment he craved the sense of peace she brought to the environment, the noticeable ease in dinner services within the past five months of her employment reasserting her essentiality. orders were smoother, customers were happier, shifts seemed shorter. he also found it thoroughly grounding to be able to look up from his work, through the expo window and watch her for just a moment, not that he would admit to it. he had dropped her off at home on his way to the restaurant that morning, watching her walk up her complex stairs clad in a white shirt and a pair of hanes, both borrowed, and noticeably oversized. 

he cuts back to his task at hand, setting a plate down, drizzling a sauce over the surface, not checking the clock. 

he thinks back to when he had gently woken her hours earlier. slipping out of bed at the sound of his alarm, hand groggily coming to rub his face, making his way to the bathroom. he practically forgot she was there in his tired haze, the memories of the night flooding back to him when he returned to the bedroom, staring at her sleeping form. his heart inexplicably ached at the sight as he gently opened his dresser drawers, beginning to get ready for work. he dresses, mentally rattling off things that need to be done at the restaurant, running his hands through his unruly bed head. he brushes his teeth, locates his keys and wallet, and puts on his socks all before making his way back over to the sleeping girl. 

he wanted to leave her there, come back home and find her waiting there just for him. the man checked the time on his phone, nearing 7 o’clock. he leans over the bed, placing a hand on her side and lightly rubbing. she shifts, blinking awake, meeting his eyes. 

“hey,” he greets softly, brushing her hair behind her ear, resting his hand on her for a moment. she sleepily smiles, eyes bleary. 

“morning,” she responds quietly, looking him over, “you gotta go?” 

he nods, internalizing his disappointment, removing his hand from her hair. 

“okay,” she responds, rubbing her eyes, “i’ll get up.” she slowly sits up, holding the blanket to her bare chest, trying to blink away the sleepiness. carmy notices the slight sway in her seated form, eyes heavy, watching a small shiver pass over her. 

“you can stay,” he tells her, “go back to sleep if you want.”

she looks up to his standing form, tempted to accept his offer, wanting nothing more than to stay cozied up in a bed that smells like him. she rationalizes the situation, though, tying her hair up out of her face. she wasn’t going to overstay her welcome, telling herself, he’s just trying to be nice. 

“you’re not scared of me snooping through your stuff?” she asks, eyebrow raising a bit. he lets out a laugh, slightly taken aback by her question. 

“would you?” he asks. 

she thinks for a moment, head tilting.

“probably not…but you would never know if i did,” she answers, grinning. he smiles in amusement, quickly raking his eyes over her face, trailing down to her collarbones, shoulders, exposed back. 

“do you think you could take me home?” she asks, “on your way to work?”

“yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course.” to which she smiles in response. 

she goes to get out of bed when she remembers her nudity concealed by the sheet, pausing, embarrassment evident on her face. he smiles at her hesitation, the girl acting as if he hadn’t seen her stark naked the night before. she turns to him, “can i also borrow something to wear home?” she asks, “please? i wanna get back in bed.” 

in that moment he couldn’t fathom saying no to her, immediately grabbing her a few things she could choose from, her selecting a plain white shirt and a pair of his checkered boxers. she gets out of bed, skin raised in goosebumps from the chill morning, slipping his shirt over her head, then walking past carmen to the living room, searching for her discarded panties. the man watched her, entranced, surprised at how viscerally affected he was at the sight. he loved the way she looked in his clothes, debating telling her to keep them forever. 

he tries to ignore the implications of their time together, as he stands over the finished plate, phone on the wall still ringing. 

“hands!” he calls, moving away from the dish, wiping his hands on the rag draped over his shoulder.

fuck, he thinks, what am i doing?

everything had been moving so fast— having told himself prior he wouldn’t pursue her at all, let alone invite her to stay the night wrapped in his arms, mind completely clouded with the thought of her. he thinks to his initial intention, a quick hookup, something to help him let off some steam, alleviate the pressure that built within him the second he laid eyes on her. it didn’t alleviate anything, though, finding himself stuck on the thought of her more now than ever. 

“fuck, can i get some hands, please?” carmen yells out, already busied by the next task, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight. 

it was like he was trying to quit a drug by injecting it directly into his veins, incessantly tortured by his inner dilemma surrounding her. it was apparent to many that the restaurant required her help, especially amidst a rush much like the one happening now. he knew this. knew that she couldn’t continue to work here if the two of them were to grow closer than they already had, their current relationship being a major conflict of interest, to say the least. 

gotta put an end to it, he tells himself, chest tightening at the thought. he shakes this away, takes a deep breath and refocuses himself on his work. he glances up at the clock again. an hour left. he rips his eyes away, mentally chastising himself. 

i have to tell her today, the thought creating a sinking in his stomach. 

—

she flings open the heavy metal door, quickly finding safety inside, heart rapidly beating from her rushed pace. she lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. she walks further inside, opening a locker and setting her bag down, zoning out for a second, deeply perturbed by what she had experienced on her commute. 

“hey, welcome in,” she hears a chipper voice, turning to see sydney. 

“hey. thanks chef,” she responds softly, taking a moment to process the simple greeting, tying her hair back out of her face. the girl, heavy in thought, slowly makes her way to the front of store, passing by carmen’s office, his door ajar. 

“hey, chef,” she hears him call out to her. she pauses, turning to the seated man. 

“hi,” she gently greets, attempting to silence the waver in her tone. she pauses, looking at him, debating to tell him what happened. 

“you okay?” he asks, concern on his face. she decides to shake it off, wanting to get through this shift without any tears, go home, crawl under her covers and never come out again. 

“yeah,” she nods, “i’m okay.”

carmen keeps the same expression, tilting his head slightly, not fully believing her. she looks away from him, feeling as if by locking eyes she would bare her soul. he narrows his gaze, studying the girl, and she feels herself cracking. 

“i’ll tell you later,” she compromises, crossing her arms.  

“okay,” he accepts, nodding, eyeing her form before she turns to walk to the front of house.

the man feels a slight churn in his stomach, wondering if she would beat him to the conversation he wanted to initiate. except she had looked pale, almost like she had seen a ghost. he rubs his hand over his face, leaning back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. 

the dinner shift that night was hectic beyond belief. broken dishes, incorrect tickets, increased waiting times— the kitchen was tense, carmen rounding off orders, sydney bustling back and forth between stations to assist. the usual rhythm the dinner crew seemed to fall into proved to be virtually nonexistent. the young woman at the front blamed herself for his, her head completely out of it tonight. she had punched in orders wrong, mixed up drink requests, misplaced seating sections. she brought her hand up to rub her forehead, trying to fix an error she had entered into their system, brain pulsing with a headache. she refused to check the clock, knowing she must be only four or five hours in at this point. her brain felt foggy, clouded by the jarring things that had been said to her on her walk to work.

i’ll get some cold water and go take a breath in the back, she thinks, trying to mentally encourage herself through the shift. she quickly walks to the back, trying to be as fast as she can, squeezing through the kitchen and darting for the back room. her body feels hot, panicked, as she nears the last turn.

“corner!” she hears all too late, slamming face first into a firm chest, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs for a moment. 

“shit!” he curses, tightly grabbing her hips on instinct to steady her. she lets out a labored breath, bringing her head up to her forehead, pounding even harder. she looks up to meet carmy’s gaze, embarrassment on her face.

“corner, chef?” he asks, brow creased, letting his hands linger for a moment before letting go of her. 

“i’m sorry, chef,” she breathes out, tears brimming at her eyes, a waver in her tone. the frustration on his face is replaced by a look of concern, bringing his hand to touch her arm. 

“hey,” he says softly, “you alright?” 

she takes a deep breath, knot heavy at the back of her throat. 

“i’m alright,” she answers gently, “i just need a second.”  

he softly says her name, deeply searching her eyes as if they would present to him all her troubles. 

“i just don’t wanna think about it right now,” she whispers, lip beginning to tremble. 

“okay, sweetheart, that’s fine,” he reassures her, the name slipping off his tongue unintentionally. she wants to cry, dive into his arms hearing his soft tone, quickly wiping a tear before it can slip down her face. 

“why don’t you go sit in the office, huh? take a breather,” he suggests. 

she nods, looking down to her shoes. he gives her arm a soft pat before removing it altogether, walking past her to the kitchen. the sight of her anguish was admittedly difficult for carmen to see, his mind rattling with possibilities of what could be upsetting her so badly. he waited in anticipation for closing time, trying to keep a close eye on the girl throughout the night, who seemed to be falling back into rhythm after her short break. the last three hours of business wrapped up quickly, staff numbers dwindling more and more as the night progressed. carmy spent the last thirty minutes of the night in his confined office, sorting through licenses and finalizing next week’s schedule into the system. he turns the computer off, closing his eyes for a moment to alleviate the strain he felt, reveling in the quiet. rising from the chair and stretching, he walks through the small office door, turning the corner to come into the kitchen. his eyes land on her, wiping the pristine flat top with a dry rag. she looks up at the movement, hard gaze softening at the sight of him. 

“hey,” she greets softly, “i’m all done. just finishing the counters.”

“looks great, thank you,” he returns, nodding. she gives a small smile at the praise but he can still notice a heaviness upon her demeanor, eyes more dull than they usually are. 

“i’m, uh, just gonna smoke,” he continues, “then i’ll take you home, alright?”

she nods. “thank you,” meeting his gaze, drifting her eyes over his incredibly handsome face. she doesn’t make any small talk, drying the last wet spot and walking to the back to toss the dirty towel in a hamper. carmen walks back into his office, removing his apron and pulling his wallet, keys, cigarettes from the drawer. he then switches off the small desk lamp, coating the room in thick darkness. he emerges towards the glow of the kitchen fluorescents, the girl washing her hands, drying them, and walking to retrieve her belongings out of a locker. they silently make their way outside, carmy turning off the lights behind them and shutting the back door. they both revel in the fresh air of the cool night, a sense of serenity in the silence that engulfed the alleyway. he hears her take a deep breath, fishing a cigarette from his carton and placing it in between his lips. he shoves his hand into his pocket, finding only his wallet and keys. he checks his other one, then the back pockets. 

“fuck,” he swears, head falling back against the metal door, nerves pricking with inclination. he turns to the non-smoker in a glimpse of yielding hope, “you got a light?” he asks. she stares forward, fixated on the same point, leaning against the same door. it takes her a second for her to meet his eyes in a glance, her response delayed 

“lighter? uh, yeah i think,” she answers, beginning to dig through her bag. she pulls out a bright blue bic, and he chuckles in relief. she hands it to the man, his fingers sliding over hers as he takes it from her. carmy ignites the flame, bringing it to the tip of the cigarette and deeply inhaling, a noticeable tension subsiding within him. he goes to hand the lighter back to her.

“keep it,” she tells him, bumping her shoulder against his lightly. he smiles, pocketing the blue object. 

“thank you,” he responds, genuinely, taking another long drag. the two share a beat of silence, the girl unmoving from her position, shoulder flush against his. a breeze sweeps through the street, calm after the storm. 

he clears his throat. 

“so you, uh, gonna tell me what happened?” his tone soft, keeping his eyes trained forward. he feels her deeply inhale, mentally preparing himself for the worst. she thinks for a moment, piecing together her explanation. a cloud of smoke seeps through the alleyway from carmen. 

“you know how i used to work at ricky’s?” she starts. he glances at her, nodding. “well, um,” she continues, “there was this regular that we had, some older guy. he was always there during my shifts,” she hesitates, “and, uh, he turned out to be kind of a creep.”  

carmen turns to her, watching her closely now. 

“like, he would wait for outside for me until i was off and try to talk to me,” she explains, voice beginning to strain, “and, uh, he got my phone number somehow? and started sending me these terrible messages.” the man holds her in an unwavering gaze, his jaw tightening. he takes a drag of his cigarette, watching her. 

“so, i got a new number,” she clarifies, “and uh, a new job,” glancing at him, “and everything stopped.” her eyes start to brim with tears. 

“okay,” he encourages, eyebrows deeply furrowed, but tone soft and sweet. he stubs his cigarette out, tossing it. she takes a shaky breath. 

“and then this morning i was walking here,” quickly bringing her hand up to wipe a stray tear, “and this truck pulled up next to me,” her throat grows tight and hot, “and it was him, carmy,” she lets out in a sob. he instinctively pulls her into his arms, wrapping around her tightly, resting his head on hers. his gaze was fixated behind the girl on the ground, a hot wave of anger burning beneath his skin. 

“what happened?” he asks, an urgency in his words. 

she buries her face into his chest, slightly shaking, tears soaking his white shirt. 

“he said all these…horrible things to me,” she sobs out, grabbing onto him as if he were her lifeline. he puts his hand on her hip, pulling back slightly to look at her, worry spread over his features, tears pouring down her cheeks, face flushed. 

“hey,” he says in a concerned tone, her puffy eyes coming to meet his. carmen tightens the arm around her back, whispering her name, “what did he say to you, baby?” he really never means to call her that, it just slips out. 

she bites back a sob, wishing she could melt into the man— escape from everything, remain engulfed in the soothing warmth of his safety forever. 

“i can’t, carmy,” she cries, shaking her head. he feels a pit in his stomach, anxiety prickling through his body. 

“okay,” he concedes, nodding, “that’s okay, you don’t have to right now.” he scans her face, bringing a hand to her cheek and gently wiping the tears from her eyes. 

“you don’t have anything to worry about now,” he tells her, voice low, “i’m gonna take care of you, okay? that fucko isn’t gonna come anywhere near you,” he asserts, gripping her tightly. 

“okay,” she whispers, the weightless feeling of the tremendous fear alleviating in her chest. 

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he asks her, watching the girl shut her eyes, nodding, a few stray tears rolling down her cheek and sliding off her jaw, bringing her sleeves up to dry them. carmy keeps his hand wrapped around her hip, turning to slowly walk her to the car. he felt an overwhelming possessiveness clouding his rationality— an unyielding urge to do whatever he can to protect her, the thought of another man even looking at her wrong electrifying him with anger. they arrive at the passenger’s side, carmy opening the door for her and helping her into the car as she mutters a soft thanks. he closes her door, letting out a deep sigh, plagued by indecision, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the dark car window. the answer would be incredibly simple had he chosen to go with his heart, but carmen was reluctant in trusting something that had previously brought him only distraction and turmoil. he’s gonna be logical about this, he decides, reassuring himself no good boss should be fucking around with his young employees. he wanted to be a good man to her, too, feeling undeserving of her attention, her loving gaze. he makes his way to the driver’s door, getting into the car. he starts the ignition, pulling out of the alleyway into the street, turning in the direction of her apartment. the short ride was quiet, the exception of a few spare sniffles sounding from the girl. a soft melody played on the radio, drowning out the hum of the road. he glances to her, the girl’s gaze fixed on the passing surroundings outside her window. he turns down the music, slightly. 

“you did good today,” he praises, impressed by her resilience. she lets out a scoff. 

“i cried in your office for like ten minutes straight,” she responds, watching the light of the moving street lamps bleed together. 

“i know,” his voice gentle, low, “i’m still proud of ‘ya,” he tells the sulking girl. she finds herself start to smile very softly at this, the man’s words warming the chill she had felt since being approached by the strange man. he slowly pulls up to her complex, shifting the gear into park, the girl undoing her seatbelt. 

“carm,” she calls, directing the man’s attention to her, eyes expectantly meeting hers. she feels at a bit lost for words, unsure of how to express the tremendous gratitude she felt for him, how to express to him how much she feels she needs him. so instead she just leans forward, throwing her arms around the man, burying her head into his neck. he lets out a breath at the unexpected touch, wrapping his arms around her, bringing a hand up to grasp the back of her neck. 

“thank you,” she whispers into him, “for everything.” 

his heart clenches, a deep ache growing in his chest. 

“you shouldn’t thank me,” he softly responds, holding her close to him, feeling entirely unworthy of the gratitude, knowing soon enough he would have to hurt her— end things completely. 

she pulls back, bringing her forehead to his, closing her eyes. 

“come inside?” she asks him, breath gracing his lips, “please,” she pleads. 

carmen’s eyes flutter shut, sliding his hand from the back of her neck to the side, grabbing, savoring her sweet scent. he feels something ignite within him touching her like this, nose brushing against hers. he wants so badly to lean forward, engulf her lips in his, taste her. he lets out a groan, forcing himself to pull away from her, dropping his hand from her neck. he sighs, hesitating for a moment, fighting against every urge within him. 

“i, uh… i can’t,” he tells her, drawing his gaze away from her, towards the illumination of his headlamps on the asphalt. she presses her hands onto the center console, turning and leaning over it to the man. she brings a hand to his face, pulling him in slightly, dipping her head into his neck to gently pepper kisses along his skin. her hand slides to his firm chest, pressing into him. his head falls back, clenching his jaw, rationality crumbling rapidly beneath her lips. 

“please, carmy,” she prays into his skin, “come make me feel better,” biting to leave a small mark. he feels hot from the inside out, blood rushes through him, a growing pulse beneath his pants. he takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, focus on anything but the feeling of her against him. he says her name, sternly, the girl pulling away at his tone, meeting his gaze. he shuts his eyes tightly, running a hand over his face. 

i guess it’s now or never. 

“we, uh… we can’t,” he sighs, pausing, piecing his words together. “we can’t do this anymore.” 

her expression remains flat, brows slightly furrowed. 

“do what?” she asks carefully, sitting back in her seat, away from him. he just looks at her, implication in his silence. her brows set further, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. the look in her eyes is almost disbelief, a gnawing forms deep within carmen’s stomach. she shakes her head, slightly.

“where is this coming from?” she asks, voice quiet. he can’t bring himself to meet her eyes in the moment. 

“i don’t want this to go… too far,” he hesitates, throwing her a quick glance, “I don't-,” pushing his hair back, taking a breath. she brings her hand to rest on his, moving closer. 

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, locking eyes with her, finding serenity in the depths of her irises, his shoulders noticeably untensing, leaning further in towards her when he doesn’t mean to. she scoots closer, her hands cold on his, falling deeply into his cerulean gaze. he selfishly pulls her into him, once more, strong arm coming to wrap around her, holding her against him, her arms coming to clutch his shirt. he smells her sweet perfume, deeply inhaling, feeling almost human for a moment. she pulls back just slightly, her cheek brushing against his, coming to rest her forehead against his once more, almost as if it would ease the pain. she shuts her eyes, inching impossibly closer, eager to feel him pressed against her. 

“i don’t want you to either,” she whispers, tears burning behind her tightly shut eyes. his hand comes up to the base of her neck, carding his fingers up through her hair, softly grabbing. she sighs against his lips, yearning. 

so close. 

hearts pounding, skin hot, faces flush. 

fuck it. 

she leans forward, finally pressing her lips against his— warm, plump, so incredibly soft— the two moaning in tandem at the sensation. it’s almost overwhelming for carmen, his breath hitching at the contact, selfishly letting himself melt into her, the best thing he’s ever had on his lips. he knows this will blur lines between them even more, complicate, hurt, but he didn’t care, their kisses soft and slow, electrifying nerves. he grabs her hair, tighter, pulling her closer to him, gently sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. she accepts it, kissing him deeply, letting out a whimper, grabbing whatever she can of him, desperate to fully feel him against her. her hands fall onto the muscle of his bicep, squeezing, the pressure of his lips hot against hers, marveling at the intensity of the kiss. teeth clash, tongues embrace, pulling, grabbing, each exchanging a small piece of their soul through the heat of their lips. his free hand grabs her waist, slow, hot kisses increasing in ferocity, his mind feeling completely numb to any previous objection. she sucks his lip, lightly, the man groaning deeply, the sensation of her mouth greater than anything he’d ever experienced. he deepens the kiss. her core aches, wanting to hoist herself up, slide in between him and the steering wheel, have him take her right in his car. but she pulled away with a final few kisses, the two breathing heavily, car windows fogging with condensation. he frowns at the loss of contact, opening his eyes, meeting her face, lips swollen, eyes low. 

“you’re right,” she admits, quietly. he looks at her in confusion, needing to feel her again. she bites her lip, a few tears growing in her eyes. “we need to stop,” a whisper. 

his lungs tighten, pit in his stomach. he shouldn’t have kissed her back, he thinks, head spinning. 

she wipes an escaped tear, leaning forward to hug him once more, savoring the feeling of him, safe and solid. he doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds her tightly, for what he knows to be the last time. she sniffles, coming back to kiss his cheek, then pulling away completely, grabbing her bag off the floor of his car. 

“thanks for the ride,” she tells him quietly, opening the door, locking eyes with him, the two with a mutual look of pain behind their gaze. he just nods, not trusting his voice. she steps out into the summer night, taking a deep breath, turning back to him. 

“goodnight, carm,” shutting the car door and walking to the stairs of her complex. once her back is to him, she lets the salty tears stream down her face, knot in her throat, face hot with embarrassment, heart clenching inexplicably. she knew this would happen, so why did it hurt so bad? 

it was never supposed to go this far, but it did. 

small fragments of heart scattering behind her like crumbled porcelain, leading back to the idling car where he sat, numb. 

fuck, he curses himself as soon as the door shuts. he tries taking deep breaths to calm himself, to no avail, the space of the car now feeling confined as if it were closing in on him. 

“fuck!” he yells, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. it was supposed to be the right decision— things were never supposed to go so far. so why did it feel like his heart was shattering beneath the weight of his ribs? 

he watches her trudge up the stairs, her shoulders visibly shaking. 

—

i really hope you liked it! final part coming soon, and will be a long one! <3

thank you for your continued support on this series!! :)

part 4 - under the moon

[stvharrngton]

going to be annoying and req this w steeb also ily baby <3

❛ show me how much you missed me. ❜

anything for u 🥰

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (m receiving), mean/dom!steve

prompt: “show me how much you missed me” from this (x) list

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke

“I miss him.”

Regret consumed you as soon as those words left your mouth. A drunken confession to Robin, who, unfortunately for you, was best friends with your ex-fling.

You were never really something, never exclusive, never together for real. It’s not that you didn’t like each other like that, you did, you really did. It just never worked out that way, you both opted for fooling around with each other, and each other’s feelings, than making anything serious.

You had mutually called it quits, he had said it was for the best. But your feelings hadn’t changed, they never would and too much vodka mixed with the way you missed having his hands on your body and his lips on your neck resulted in the ungodly confession in the dead of the night in someone’s backyard.

So Robin told Steve immediately when she saw him the next day. Of course she would, how you ever would have expected her to keep that big of secret, she would never know.

Steve couldn’t wait to see you with this hoard of brand new information. Robin had tried warning him you were drunk when you confessed but Steve knew that drunk words were sober thoughts.

When Steve found you at the same party on Friday night, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist whilst you attempted to pour yourself a second drink, dragging you upstairs and into a bedroom.

He spun you around with you back colliding with the wooden door, the lock clicking behind you.

“Steve?” What are you—“ His lips were on yours in a flash.

It was hot, heated and surprising? Your eyes widened at the unexpected contact. Hands held in suspense at your sides, you slowly melted into the kiss as Steve’s tongue came out to lick at your bottom lip.

A pretty little sigh left your lips as the boy finally pulled away from you, your eyelids fluttering back open to see Steve’s big brown orbs staring back at you. His eyes scanning your features for something, anything.

“You miss me?” was all he said, fingers lingering on your face.

You averted your gaze, cursing Robin under your breath. Your lips moved to speak but no words came out. You didn’t know what you wanted the outcome to be, unsure whether to answer yes or no.

“Cat got your tongue?” Steve fired a second question at you now, eyebrows raised in suspense. His hands travelled down to your waist, fingers clutching at the material of your dress, eyes raking over your figure.

Steve knew what he wanted your answer to be. Cause Steve really wanted to kiss you again, wanted to feel your soft skin beneath his fingertips, to have you begging and writhing beneath him.

“Do you miss me?” He asked for the third and final time, finger hooking underneath your chin and bringing your gaze to meet his own.

“I—yeah,” you muttered, breath hitching in your throat at the way he was looking at you. Steve’s eyes were darkening by the second, tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

“Yeah?” Steve breathed, as you nodded in response.

He walked you over to the bed slowly, halting when the backs of your legs hit the frame. Steve towered over you, his face leaning into yours, his lips brushing against your own softly.

“Wanna show me how much you missed me?” He breathed into your kiss, “Gonna get on your knees f’me, pretty girl?”

Steve’s voice was like velvet. Sexy and rough with his words going straight to your core. You nodded, blinking your big doe eyes up at him. His lips curled up into a smirk as he pinched your chin between his thumb and finger. The boy always had you in some sort of trance. He’d say jump and you’d ask how high, every damn time.

He moved to kiss you again, his own hands fumbling with his belt and the zipper on his jeans, maneuvering until you had switched places, Steve planted firmly on the mattress with his jeans halfway down his thighs.

Steve watched with heavy eyes as you bent down on your knees, taking your place between his legs, his stiffening cock aching beneath its confines. He felt the heat prickle at his skin as you pulled his jeans the rest of the way down, exposing his meaty thighs for your lips to kiss at.

“Shit,” he groaned softly, leaning back on his palms. Your dainty fingers ghosted over the bulge in his boxers, featherlight just how Steve liked.

Soon enough Steve’s boxers joined his jeans around his ankles. Cock free and hard, begging to be licked and sucked. Steve hissed as the cool air hit his length, bottom lip coming between his teeth as your fingers wrapped around the base.

You licked a flat stripe up the underside of his cock, tongue stopping to swirl around the tip. Steve scooped your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, your soft strands held loosely between his fingertips as you wrapped your lips around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” Steve moaned as your head began to bob up and down on his cock, “look so pretty suckin’ on my cock.”

You hummed around his length as his words sent a shiver down your spine. The vibrations made Steve’s cock twitch in your warm mouth, an unsanctimonious moan escaping his lips.

The noise made all the heat rise to your cheeks, your lashes fluttering up at the boy as you tried, as subtly as you could, to move your fingers south, between the skirt of your dress. Tongue slurping and sliding over the length of Steve’s cock, spit dribbling from your lips down the shaft in hope he wouldn’t notice.

But he did. He always did.

“Are you touching yourself down there, sweetheart?” He questioned, eyes now completely glazed over with lust, his cheeks rosy and a curl of his hair hanging across his forehead, “I hope you’re not.”

Your fingers halted their movements as you released Steve’s heavy cock with a pop from your lips, so you could splutter out your reply.

“No! I wasn’t Steve, I promise— I—“

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, hooking his index finger underneath your chin, bringing your gaze to him, “you really missed me that bad, huh?”

He was cruel with it, teasing and taunting. The smirk on his lips made you feel hot under the collar, your dress suddenly feeling too small and tight. You simply nodded up at the boy, your eyes wide, wet and pleading.

“And I promise I’ll fuck you good later, hard and deep, just the way you like it,” Steve began, thumb pulling at your bottom lip, “but I need you to get that pretty little mouth of yours back on my cock.”

You whimpered as you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding as you wrapped your lips around Steve’s length once more. Tongue swirling all around, taking him in inch by inch until the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat, over and over.

Steve groaned as his eyes rolled back, lips parted and jaw slack. Your mouth felt too good wrapped around him, nice and warm and wet only pushing Steve closer and closer to his orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he whined, “just like that. Sucking my cock so fuckin’ good.”

His words kept you going, pushing you further and further. Your free hand came up to cup Steve’s balls, heavy in your hand as his thighs began to tense, his bottom lip tucked nicely between his teeth.

“Fuck, yes,” Steve whimpered, a strained sound tumbling from his lips as your mouth sped up, “gonna take all my cum, pretty girl? You’re gonna swallow every last drop, yeah? Like a Good. Fucking. Girl.”

And with that, Steve hit his limit. Climax racking his body, pleasure rolling throughout him as spurts of hot cum decorated your mouth and the back of your throat. Pretty little moans and gasps escaping his lips as his eyes were screwed shut. Mumbling fuckfuckfuck and renditions of oh, baby, please being whispered into the air.

Steve came to after a minute, regaining all clarity after the remnants of his orgasm fled his body. He let his fingers skirt down the side of your cheek, moving to lightly wrap around your throat as he felt you swallow his seed.

“There’s a good girl.”

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 9 - left its seeds while I was sleeping

“Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence.” -The Sound of Silence by Disturbed

Masterlist Part 8

It was the lack of air in her lungs that woke Jazz up, gasping for air and fingers desperately trying to find a beating pulse at her neck. 

With a sigh of relief, Jazz rested her palm against the beat, counting as it started to settle into a resting pace again. 

Another nightmare. 

Back in Danny’s memorial Jazz had converted from a maintenance access space, she had slept there one Christmas weekend as she learned her little brother would truly never have a peaceful afterlife. The darkness was an old friend, like a worn blanket from childhood that you would hide under because you believed the monsters wouldn’t get you then- embraced her as she was and sheltered her as she mourned her lost humanity and childhood until there were no more tears to cry. 

Nonetheless, it couldn’t shelter her from the dreams of death, the echo of Danny’s death scream ghostly wail ricocheting in her skull like the worst sort of pinball game she could ever have the misfortune of playing. 

It was no longer Danny’s death or theirs that haunted her with dogged determination, but Jason’s. 

(The same man she found herself missing more with each passing day that she didn’t wake in his arms.)

It was horrifically detailed, the nightmares, because Jazz’s imagination painted with vivid color even in sleep. The details Lady Gotham had shared with her were few and far between, considering she didn’t care for talking about her favorite bird’s murder. 

(Beaten, betrayed… waiting for his dad to reach him in time.)

(Only the darkness would ever know how much Jazz cried for a younger Jason, who only wanted his mother’s love, died for it.)

(It spoke to her own childhood, wanting her parents to love her and care for her.)

(What a pair they were.)

Jazz threw off her blankets and got dressed for the day, hair brushed back into a low ponytail and Bracelets hidden under loose sleeves and a glamor. The metal was cool against her warm skin, a comfortable weight on her forearms as she went about her morning in silence, forcing the nightmare back into a box for her never to think about. 

Danny emerged only a few minutes after Jazz began making breakfast for them, yawning and raking a scarred hand through his messy hair as he tried to wake up. Her little brother was completely healed from his traumatic experience physically, but she worried about him mentally. Though he was much happier compared to when she first dragged him bleeding and screaming to Gotham, which could also be due to the fact that he has a new Haunt and isn’t vilified by the city as Phantom. 

Even if it came at the cost of life, Danny loved being a vigilante.

The signs were there in the little things most of all.

 The pride in his voice when he introduced himself as Phantom, delivered puns and witty one-liners with his wicked sense of humor for all to see, thrived in the sense of duty he wrought in Protecting others, even complete strangers. Danny was a hero, but he didn’t need that distinction to want to help, he only wanted to not be hunted for his spooky nature. 

Jazz would shoulder that burden for him, take up another mantle if it meant giving Danny a chance to be happy with his existence. Ancients only knew how far she would go for him. 

One slash, two, three

Blood is on your hands already. 

Fourth, fifth slash

Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash. 

So what if Jazz had a bond with the darkness? So what if she woke up with no air in her lungs, searching for a pulse? 

There was nothing else for her to fight for, no greater purpose she could find then to be at Danny’s side through the ups and downs. Jazz had already given up so much, both willingly and unknowingly, to take the crown, to be more than a presence on the sidelines- she was more than a Liminal, Jazz was the damn Regent. 

(She ignored the grating reminder of the title being temporary.)

It was only until Jazz watched Danny walk through the door of his school, that it dawned on her what she was feeling….

Jazz was becoming depressed. 

-——-———–

With the subtlety of Jack Fenton barreling through a wall, Jazz threw herself into work- both Vigilante and Regent- to ignore the realization and subsequent horror that she was falling into a deep depression.

And it was largely because of Danny. 

Ancients, Jazz wanted nothing more than to confront these feelings head on, much like she encouraged her little brother too, but she couldn’t even find where to begin. 

She supposed she could find someone to talk to about all this, in a professional manner, but her options were limited. 

Spectra was the only ghost with counseling experience, but Jazz would only be leaving a conversation with her worse than when she began. 

Frostbite would be of little help with something so human, considering he was an ancient ghost Yeti. 

Human. That was it. 

Jazz hadn’t considered a human psychiatrist, since most of her health needs thus far were physical and treated by the Yeti tribe, thanks to her ecto-contamination and proto-core. 

What if she found a human doctor to see? Jazz had no reason to discuss anything  ecto related, only human adjacent, so she could very well find one that suited her and her needs. 

Well, that might be a challenge in Gotham. 

The Watchtower was host to nearly every possible hero who were to attend Batman’s urgent briefing, many lingering around and questioning what the Bat could’ve had in store for so many of them to be present. 

Robin, Red Hood, and Red Robin were counted among the numbers of those present, though only Red Robin had the fully depth of what they were about to be privy to, having been one of three people to sort through the Ghost Files (as they were dubbed by the Batkids). 

Robin had demanded to be included, citing his prior experience with The Regent in Crime Alley as reason enough. 

(He would not admit that he had been petrified by the vigilante, the death aura freezing him down to his bones.)

Red Hood was there at the request of his younger brother (Tim), Oracle and Batman, though he had yet to understand why. 

“Red Robin, begin the presentation.” Batman ordered gruffly as he entered the large meeting hall, Superman and Wonder Woman at his heels, the other heroes trickling in soon after. 

Red Robin nodded, took a deep breath and started the presentation slideshow. 

Slide #1: Ghosts, Fenton Family, GIW, Anti-Ecto Acts, The Regent and the Phantom

Despite the absurdity of the first slide, no one felt like laughing. Especially when it is in a meeting with the Batman, the Dark Knight and two (?) of his children. Not to mention the existence of Deadman was well known to the Justice League. 

“Bloody Hell, Bats, took you long enough.” Constantine had no qualms about poking the man in question with a metaphorical stick, but he had fully expected this briefing to happen a week ago. 

“This briefing will be disclosing information granted to us by one of these Ghosts or Ecto-Entities as they are officially classified by the Ghost Investigation Ward or GIW. A serious breach of the Metahuman protection laws has been created and exploited by this government organization, which is responsible for drawing the Human world into the beginnings of an inter dimensional war with the Infinite Realms.” Batman spoke calmly, even if he was holding onto his demeanor by the skin of his teeth. 

(He was livid.)

(A dead child had to beg him not to send him to war.)

(A dead child was a Spirit of Protection.)

As expected, the heroes present were disgusted by the actions of the GIW, the diabolical Anti-Ecto Acts passed during Luther’s term. 

The worst reactions came during the Fenton Family portion. 

The Ghost Files had included so much info on them, Red Robin had to shorten the list of what he would include in the presentation. 

The first picture was of the members themselves, posing in front of a brick building with a neon sign of ‘Fentonworks’ glaring annoyingly from the background, casting an off shade of pale green over the subjects. 

“The Fenton Family, manufacturers of the weapons sold to the GIW for the express purpose of hunting and capturing ghosts.” Batman began, “The two adults are Madeline and Jack Fenton, ecto-biologists whose prejudiced views on Ecto-Entites seem to be the founding behind the Acts and the GIW.” 

The man in the photo was large, a sturdy frame encased in an orange hazmat suit and bearing a wide grin on his face, with an arm around his wife and children. Madeline Fenton was a slight woman, standing at a possible five foot eight and wearing a hazmat suit like her spouse. 

The children were the next to be spoken of, “The boy is Daniel Fenton, the youngest, and according to the information given, he was killed in a lab accident at fourteen years old.” 

The gasps of horror intermingled with the muttered curses before the Dark Knight silenced them, “Daniel’s older sister, Jasmine, was the primary caregiver for most of his life and after discovering her parents dissecting the town’s protector, a ghost by the name of Phantom, in the same basement lab Daniel died in, Jasmine allowed the Regent to claim their souls so the violence done to Phantom would be avenged.” 

It had been quite the shock for Red Robin and Oracle to read that, both at the evidence of cruelty and inhumane experimentation done to a sentient being (a child who died and protected the town) and the admittance that the Regent killed the humans to avenge Phantom.

It wasn’t until Hood grimly smiled and said, “Good for them.” that something clicked. 

Phantom was killed by the Fentons and avenged by the Regent of the Ghost King. 

(Jason had never been avenged, not like this dead kid.)

There was one file, a video, that Tim refused to share with anyone. 

The death of Daniel Fenton. 

…and the rebirth.

Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t an idiot. He was born into a bloodline of brilliance, even if such wasn’t always used for the greater good. He had spent years fixing his parents failed inventions, doing the proper equations to figure out how something could work when in reality it had no business existing. 

(Designed to view a world unseen.)

He’d learned how to fly a jet and build one at fifteen out of sheer desperation, defeated the Ghost King in the same year…. And was almost killed fully by his parents. 

His vivisection scars had healed fully, his removed ribs having regrown, and he could transform without echoes of agony in his chest. 

(They had gotten far too close to his core.)

Point was, Danny knew there was something going on with his sister. She had been less talkative since their escape from Amity, but Jazz had been withdrawn since they took Jason to the Batcave. He had suspected that Jazz missed having someone to care for, considering that was the kind of person she’d been for as long as he could remember, but it didn’t seem quite right. There was something sadder in her eyes. 

Danny turned his focus back down to what he was doing, shoving the concern down to deal with later when he sees Jazz. Usually English was one of the classes he could relax in, considering he could now actually read the assigned books without worrying about ghost attacks eating into his sleep, but today Danny couldn’t focus on the teacher or the lesson. 

He’d had an idea for the ecto-comms, his own creation made from broken Fenton phones. His notebook, which was a mix of notes and half finished designs, was open to the original design of the comms. Danny had to account for Jazz’s helmet when he designed her set, but it was awkward at best to activate it when she needed to talk to him. 

Jazz needed armor to protect her vital organs even if her skin was incredibly durable. He’d seen some idiot unload a clip into Jazz’s back, not a single one had pierced her- that had been when she’d intercepted a smuggling ring from inside and had yet to summon her armor or sword. 

(The creepy head turn Jazz did to face the idiot was the stuff horror movies were made from.) 

(Danny was oddly proud.)

No, the armor was to protect against ghosts. Ecto-blasts would severely injure Jazz despite her liminalality, unlike Danny who could just go intangible or manipulate the ectoplasm in his body around the blast. 

“Did you hear about the Anti-Ecto Acts?” one of his classmates whispered from somewhere behind him, causing Danny to automatic tune his hearing into the conversation. 

“Yeah, that stuff is sick. Phantom is a pretty cool dude, even if he’s dead.” 

“He’s got puns for days, man.” 

“But still, ghosts?” 

“We got aliens, dude and you’re drawing the line at ghosts?” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

“Just read the whole article, man.” 

“It’s the daily planet.” 

“It’s Clark Kent and Lois Lane, dude, it’s worth the gag factor of metropolis.” 

Danny’s pencil snapped in uneven halves in his grip, confusing mix of emotions swirling in his chest. 

Anger-relief-cautious hope 

He’d given the Ghost Files to Batman as his last resort, believing in the hero and for his connection to Lady Gotham to sway him to give it a read through. Jazz had been adamant that if Phantom and the Ghost King was on that list, then she (as the Regent) would be too, though the two of them had argued against labeling Phantom as the Star King for the time being. Danny had grudgingly agreed to keep Phantom labeled as a Spirit of Protection, even if he went behind his sister’s back and gave Batman a list of his powers. 

(Danny still had nightmares of Dan.)

(He lost his parents, but he hadn’t lost his family.) (He had to remember that.) 

There were few things Jason would consider dear to him. 

His books, kept neat and orderly in his apartment. His vigilante alias, taken from his killer to be a force of change. His grave, as a reminder that he came back. He’d been surprised to see Joker removed from the rogue list, hopeful that it meant he was avenged the clown fucker was finally dead and gone. Dick had held him again when he finally broke down and mourned himself, relief in the fact his killer would never hurt another innocent. 

Never hurt his family again. 

Barbie had framed the autopsy report and given it to her dad, where it proudly rested on his desk as a reminder that the clown was knocked off by a blessed soul and his daughter would never be hurt by him again. 

The alley where his head remained mounted was a protected site in Crime Alley, enforced by both Red Hood and it’s people. A trophy for all of them to appreciate, because while they hadn’t been the ones to end him… they had survived to bare witness to the days free of Joker. 

Harley Quinn was free, the happiest woman in all of Gotham- no, the world! The demon who’d made her in his image so long ago was gone for good and nothing would bring him back. She was free of her ex, her origin story was finally finished. 

Jason counted the fact he was inadvertently avenged as the dearest part of what he was as equal parts man and shambling corpse. He was free of that burden. 

And he had the bone-deep instinct that he knew exactly who to show his appreciation to.

Part 10

[weemssapphic]

Hi! I love your stories! Could you write a story about Larissa Weems and a University Student reader? Something 18+. They do the deed in an art museum restroom and the reader gets caught by their classmates because they still have lipstick stains on their neck. Thanks :3

hello! thank you for the compliment! 🥰 so very sorry that this has been rotting in my inbox for an obscenely long amount of time, my brain for some reason really did not want me to get this done 😣 i hope it's at least halfway decent to make up for that!

thank you to @afeatherformills for the beta-read <3

warnings/content: nsfw, age gap (reader is 18+), cunnilingus/fingering (reader receiving), praise kink, marking kink

words: ~3k

Lipstick Stains

next chapter | series page

“I’ll meet you guys back here soon okay?”

“Sure, just text us when you’re done,” Robin replied, threading her fingers through Christin’s and turning to lead her into an exhibit on modern art. Cassandra offered you a smile and trailed behind them, leaving you to your own devices.

You weaved your way through the throngs of tourists crowding at the entrance, all still deciding which way to go. You’d been here often enough to know the floor plan by heart, knowing which exhibits would be the most crowded on Saturdays. You also knew that your favorite exhibit would be deliciously empty, as almost no one wandered that far back into the museum. 

You settled on a bench in front of an ancient Greek sculpture and pulled your sketchbook from your bag, thumbing through it until you found a blank page, and began to sketch, the world around you fading slowly until it was only static in the background.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?” A low voice in your left ear made you jump, your stomach dropping as if you’d just hit the peak of a roller coaster, your heart skipping a beat. In your art-induced daze, you hadn’t even heard anyone else enter the exhibit.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You twisted in your seat to find the source of the interruption: a statuesque blonde towering over your shoulder. A smirk graced her crimson lips as your eyes raked over her shapely form, pausing for a moment on their upward journey at her hips before moving higher and, finally, making eye contact.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, clenching your fingers tightly around your pencil as you worked to get your racing heartbeat under control.

“Larissa,” the woman introduced herself and you noticed that she spoke in a lilting English accent. Her voice had a soothing quality to it, calming you almost instantly.

Larissa. A beautiful name for a beautiful stranger. You smiled at that, heart fluttering at the smile you received in return.

“Y/N.” 

“Would you care for some company, Y/N?” Normally, you would say no to such a request, prioritizing your alone time over small talk with strangers. But something about her had you absolutely mesmerized and before you knew what you were doing, you were nodding and the woman was sitting down next to you. She was so close that you could smell her perfume - notes of jasmine and rose, floral and decidedly feminine.

“Keep working,” she encouraged, seeming to notice your hesitation as you watched her. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned reluctantly back to your sketch and traced along the paper. Now it was as if your entire body was prickling with electricity at this mysterious stranger’s presence, your nerves alive and burning.

You stole a glance to your left, marveling at how put-together she looked - silver curls done up in an elaborate updo, drawing attention to her long neck and the smooth planes of her rosy cheekbones, eyes the deepest shade of blue you’d ever seen, framed by mascara-coated lashes that brushed against her cheeks when she blinked, lips a bright shade of red, parted ever so slightly as she as she admired the statue you were sketching.

You wondered briefly if you should flip to a new page and start to sketch her when her eyes shifted over to you, trapping you in her gaze, and the world around you stilled. A heavy blush crept up your cheeks and you couldn’t take it anymore, dropping your gaze back to your sketchbook. 

“I have to admit I was surprised to see someone else back here, it’s my favorite exhibit and it’s not often I run into anyone here.” Larissa crossed her legs as she spoke, long legs that seemed to stretch on for miles, and you had trouble tearing your eyes away from them.

“Then I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner, I come here a lot. I like it back here, it’s quiet.”

“You’re here alone?” There was an edge to the woman’s voice, something darker swimming in her eyes as she leaned towards you.

“Uh, sort of? My friends are off somewhere, I’m not meeting them until later.” You squinted slightly, trying to discern the woman’s intentions, but she leaned back again, a satisfied smile gracing her lips, any edge she’d previously had dissipating in an instant.

Somewhere between outlining the Greek statue and your conversation with Larissa, you realized you’d begun to sketch her instead, the silhouette of her body slowly taking shape under the tip of your pencil.

“What are you working on?” Larissa tilted her head towards yours, her breath warm on your cheek as she peered at your drawing. The sudden invasion of your space made your cheeks heat and your pulse skyrocket. Her perfume was overwhelming now, it filled your nostrils and clouded your senses, making you dizzy.

You hesitated for a moment - after all, this woman was just a stranger, and being caught sketching her could end up very embarrassing for you. Something about her curiosity and openness, and your intoxication by her sudden proximity, won out though, and you pushed your sketchbook over for her to see. “Just an assignment for class. I’m an art major,” you supplied.

Larissa traced a long, manicured finger over the sketch, humming her appreciation, the vibrations clinging to the air between the two of you. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Larissa murmured, lips pulling into a smirk as she raised her gaze to meet yours. You were a kid with your hand caught in the cookie jar, until -

A warm hand on your thigh.

A quirk of a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

It was as if your ears were ringing and the air around you was thick and all you could do was wonder if Larissa felt it too.

Larissa’s eyes darkened as she hovered over you, lips parting as she waited for you to close the distance, your faces mere inches apart. You hesitated only for a second before crashing your lips into hers, whining at how Larissa’s tongue swiped almost instantly at your lower lip. Your sketchbook and pencil clattered to the floor as Larissa’s hands came to your waist and pulled you towards her, shifting you onto her lap to straddle her thighs. 

“Is this okay?” She murmured into your mouth between kisses, breath ghosting over your face.

“Yes,” you sighed, not caring that you sounded more than a little needy as you wrapped your arms around her neck, enjoying the feeling of her palms settling on your hips.

The kisses became hotter, more desperate, and you found yourself beginning to search for a bit of friction as you ground your pelvis onto Larissa’s thighs. She moaned into your mouth and dug the pads of her fingers into your hips, pushing you down onto her lap.

You found a steady rhythm, rolling your hips and getting decent friction from the seam of your jeans, but it wasn’t enough, and it soon left you growling in frustration as the coil behind your navel wound tighter and tighter but found no release. 

Larissa let out a breathy chuckle and moved her lips to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe before whispering, “let me take care of that for you.”

She lifted you carefully off her lap and motioned for you to gather your things - of course you did as you were told, you couldn’t possibly refuse this woman - and then led you expertly down several hallways, avoiding crowds converging at different exhibits before stopping at the restrooms.

Larissa pulled you into one of the restrooms, swiftly locking the door behind you before latching her lips onto yours in a heated kiss and pushing you back into the sink. Larissa’s body pressed into yours, your hands pulling at her waist. Her tongue swiped at your lips, begging for entry, and you conceded, allowing her to explore the contours of your mouth. Her hands came up to thread themselves in your hair, tugging lightly as her fingernails scratched at your scalp. 

She pressed a plethora of open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, swirling her tongue along the skin there. As she got to your collarbone, she began to nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave a bruise, then soothing her tongue over the little red mark. Her head dipped into your cleavage, nibbling at the soft flesh barely exposed above your shirt, eliciting a low whine from your throat.

Larissa pulled back at the sound, peering up at you. No one had ever looked at you with such unadulterated hunger before, and it unnerved you. Your heart thundered aggressively against your ribcage, so loudly you were sure she could hear it as well. 

A fire had been started behind your navel and was radiating outward, setting your whole body ablaze. 

“Larissa…” A wetness pooled between the apex of your thighs and you clenched them together.

“You look absolutely divine,” Larissa growled before her lips hungrily crashed back into yours. Her hands settled on your waist, tugging you closer, though they didn’t stay there for long before they began to wander. Her left hand came up to cup your breast, giving it a squeeze through the fabric of your shirt as her right hand wandered down to your jeans, her slender fingers tracing the button in question. 

“May I?” She muttered against your lips, voice low and dripping with desire. You nodded into the kiss, your fingers coming to your pants to assist with the process.

With your jeans around your ankles, Larissa’s fingers grazed over your underwear and she let out a sinful moan at the wet patch she found there.

“All this for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet?” She looked at you with humor in her eyes, a smirk passing her lips as she began to kiss down your neck again, moving down your body and pulling your underwear down with her, allowing you to kick them off and to the side.

“Let me get a taste of you, darling, hmm? I bet you taste so good.”

Larissa swiped two fingers lightly through your folds, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the unexpected touch. She brought the digits to her mouth and slowly, obscenely swirled her tongue around them to taste your juices, moaning and gazing up at you through her eyelashes. You gulped audibly, trying to clench your thighs together to keep your arousal from dripping down your legs, but Larissa’s hands came to your knees to force your legs open.

“Ah-ah, let me see that pretty pussy of yours.” You blushed crimson at her words, trying to look away, but a hand on your arm made you look down. Larissa looked at you with such kind sincerity in her eyes. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, darling. You’re beautiful.” The words didn’t help with your blush, but you held her gaze this time and relished in her smile as she turned her attention back to the throbbing ache between your legs.

Heat pooled in your stomach as Larissa dragged her nails down your thighs, placing her tongue at your entrance and trailing it slowly towards your throbbing clit. Her tongue began to circle the sensitive nub and a pitiful whimper clawed its way out of your throat. You were so close already, your excitement beginning to trickle down the inside of your thighs.

Your cunt was aching, wanting - needing - more. You clutched at the sink behind you, white knuckled, pressing your hips forward, anything to get Larissa’s mouth closer, anything to get more.

Larissa hooked your calf over her shoulder to get a better angle, groaning as your pussy opened up for her. She placed her hands on your hips to hold you in place, her nails digging little half-moon crescents into the tender flesh there. Your entire body felt ablaze under her touch, you felt almost feverish as she flattened her tongue against your slit, lapping up the juices that flowed freely.

“Fuck - Larissa,” you groaned as you began to grind your hips into Larissa’s mouth, chest heaving.

One of Larissa’s hands left your hips and you gasped as cool fingers brushed against your center. The action only served to stoke the embers in the pit of your stomach and you moaned as a single digit sank into your hole halfway, pulled back out, then sank in again, further this time, slowly, all whilst her tongue ravished your clit.

A second finger soon followed and you met your hips in time with the thrusts of her fingers, unable to take your eyes off the goddess kneeling before you. A particularly loud moan fell from her lips and vibrated against your center, all but forcing you to slam your thighs shut around her head at the sensation.

“I-I’m s-so close,” you gasped, biting into your bottom lip to keep from crying out as Larissa picked up her pace inside of you, curling her fingers into the spongy spot that had you tensing up and seeing stars behind your eyes. Her tongue latched onto your clit, sucking feverishly as shockwaves began to rack your body.

“That’s it,” Larissa cooed, her lips brushing against the hood of your clit and causing your walls to clench around her fingers. “Be a good girl for me and come,” Larissa’s voice dropped several octaves as she dragged her fingers in and out of your cunt.

Maybe it was the “good girl” that did you in. Or maybe it was just the fact that Larissa was good, really, really good, at what she was doing. But come you did.

Your thrusts became more erratic as you rode Larissa’s face, reaching your high on her tongue as your world exploded around you, vulgar moans dripping from your lips. Larissa carried you through it, lapping up every drop of your essence that poured out of you, tongue flicking languidly at your clit to bring you gently back down to earth.

For a moment everything was still, your leg still hooked over Larissa’s shoulder as she held you in place. She pulled her fingers out of you, slowly and ever so gently, and you mewled at the loss of contact, which earned you a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Larissa cleaned you up with her tongue, taking her time to explore your inner thighs and your swollen sex. She peppered your mound with kisses, then the tender flesh of your belly, the swell of your breasts, your clavicle, your throat, your jaw - her lips hovered over yours for a moment before finally making contact, though this kiss was nothing like the rest. It was slow and sweet, tender even, and you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“You did so well for me,” she praised against your lips, her hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking the flushed skin there.

As you pulled on your now-ruined panties and your jeans, Larissa stood in front of the mirror, washing her hands, redoing her lipstick, and adjusting a few bobby pins that had come loose in her hair. 

“Will I see you again?” you murmured hesitantly, a bit pathetically, half-hoping that maybe she’d spare you the embarrassment of rejection and would pretend she didn’t hear you. 

To your surprise, she grinned and held her palm out to you. At your quizzical gaze, she chuckled and said “your phone.” 

You quickly handed her your phone and she added herself as a contact, before handing you back said phone and moving to the restroom door.

“Now, I really must get back to work, but do call me sometime.”

Larissa paused, eyes raking hungrily over your body. They stopped for a moment at your neck and a dark smirk crossed her face, a low hum of approval leaving her throat. 

You felt utterly exposed under her gaze, short of breath, thighs clenched together tightly with want. Your heart pounded in your chest at the nod Larissa gave you, cool, almost professional, and in an instant she was gone, the door closing behind her. You steadied yourself on the counter, avoiding your own gaze in the mirror as you caught your breath.

Maybe, if you had bothered to look at yourself in the mirror, you’d have seen the many lipstick stains down the column of your neck that had been left during your little rendezvous, no doubt the thing that had left Larissa smirking at you before leaving you high and dry. 

Alright, breathe. You’ll just find your friends, they’ll never realize you were gone. You checked your phone, 5:54pm. Shit, almost time to go. Without sparing yourself another glance (wrong move), you tucked your hair behind your ear, slung your bag over your shoulder and ran out of the restroom and straight into Cassandra. 

“Hey, what gives? We spent half the afternoon looking for you!” Her eyes narrowed accusingly, then traveled down your neck, widening comically as her jaw dropped. 

“Y/N, what were you doing in there?!” She shrieked. 

“W-what do you mean?” You stuttered, your beet-red face giving you away (as if the lipstick stains and blooming hickeys on your chest hadn’t already). 

“You’re covered in lipstick,” Cassandra hissed, not caring that several tourists were looking curiously at the pair of you as they passed.

“I’m… I’m what?” You pulled out your phone, turning on the front camera to examine yourself and groaning when you saw the marks dotting the front of your neck and chest. “Larissa,” you whined.

“Who’s Larissa? She the one who gave you those hickeys?” Robin and Christin chose that moment to sneak up on the two of you, Robin slinging an arm around your shoulder and grinning down at you. Your blush extended to the tips of your ears and you swatted her arm away, huffing in embarrassment.

“So I say we order pizza tonight and Y/N tells us alllll about her afternoon with Larissa,” Christin teased. 

You turned away from your friend’s laughter, looking distractedly across the main hall of the museum as you tried to cool your blush. A group of tourists passed the front desk and you looked past them, your gaze falling to a familiar tall blonde passing through the exit. Larissa looked up at that moment and your eyes locked from across the room. Red lips stretched into a devious smile, and just like that she ducked through the door, vanishing from sight.

[heich0e]

"That the last one?"

Kiyoomi slumps down torpidly into the chair at the end of the dining room table, nodding silently in reply to the question you'd posed. He looks tired, but not weary, a satisfied exhaustion making his eyes flutter as he rakes a hand through his curls.

"You didn't have to walk every single one of them out," you tease him, turning the music off that had been playing through the speakers in your home and setting your cellphone down on the edge of the table as you step towards him.

"They were my guests," Kiyoomi murmurs, his breath hitching ever so slightly as you sneak behind him and knead your thumbs into the muscle at the base of his neck, just above his shoulder blades. He sighs, his entire body slackening as you work the tips of your fingers into the knot beneath his skin, feeling it slowly begin to unfurl under your careful ministrations.

"I'm pretty sure the Miya twins know their way out by now," you remark, laughing lightly, knowing that the two brothers have stumbled out of your front door on their own two feet and own cognizance on more than enough occasions to merit taking on the task without a guide.

Kiyoomi tips his head back so he can look up at you, a little pout dragging down his bottom lip. "It's polite."

You smile, sneaking your hands up over his shoulders so that your palms can glide gently along the front of his shirt. As you dip down towards him, his eyes never stray from yours, even as you grow nearer.

Softly, you hum. "You're right. But you're also the birthday boy."

Kiyoomi's lashes flutter, and you see the way his gaze lowers to your lips just for a moment. You tilt your face towards his until your lips brush, the ghost of the kiss you know he really wants, a whisper in place of a scream. All too quickly, you pull away, and Kiyoomi groans as you step towards the opposite end of the table again.

"Did you have fun?" you ask him, plucking one of the last few unopened bottles of wine from the collection at the end of the table, and then two clean glasses to accompany it. Kiyoomi watches raptly as you make quick work of popping the cork, and then the slow trickle as you fill both glasses with a healthy pour.

"I did," Kiyoomi agrees quietly, his eyes trained to the steady flow of red wine from the bottle in your hands to the waiting glass below. A few years ago no one would have ever imagined that Kiyoomi would concur to a similar sentiment in this way. Just hours ago this home–his home, your home–had been filled to the brim, near bursting, with people. Every single one of them present to celebrate him. His friends. His family. You. But neither the crowd nor the invasion of his personal space that night were enough to unsettle him. Not even the mess that had been left behind seemed to dampen his spirits.

You smile to yourself as you realize it: realize just how much has changed in what feels like so little time. You love Kiyoomi now as much as you loved Kiyoomi then–the one who never would have allowed so many people to infiltrate his carefully guarded sanctuary, the one who scarcely let enough people close to him to fill a sofa let alone a home.

You turn to look at him, and aren't surprised to find him watching you again. You can't remember a time when you've searched for Kiyoomi's eyes in a room–whether crowded, empty, or somewhere in-between–and not found them already staring back at you. That's one thing that hasn't changed, and you're endlessly thankful for it.

You bring Kiyoomi his wine, setting the thin-stemmed glass in front of him as you lean against the edge of the table at his side. He watches as lift your own up to your lips, taking a sip, and his hand reaches to caress the warm skin of your thigh where the hem of your dress rests.

"You look pretty," he says quietly.

"Thank you, Kiyo," you reply, the same way you have each time he's told you the same thing that night.

"This is my favourite colour," he continues, pinching the hem of your dress delicately between his thumb and his pointer finger. You already know that too, of course, but hearing him say it still makes you feel good.

"That's why I wore it," your voice is breathy when you reply, your tongue peeking out to moisten your lips. You taste the wine that lingers on them as you do. "But I'm glad you like it."

Kiyoomi is still fiddling with the edge of fabric, his eyes glued to the skin that he reveals beneath it the further he eases the material up. He hasn't touched his wine, but his skin has begun to stain high along his cheeks not dissimilarly to the merlot waiting for his attention in his glass.

Finally he sighs, letting the hem slip from his fingertips, leaning forward and resting his cheek against your abdomen. Your fingers thread through his curls like second nature, holding him against you as the soft ringlets tickle the sensitive skin between your knuckles.

"Are you tired?" you ask him, though you're sure you already know.

He hums, nuzzling against you a bit more. Social events like this one do still take a lot out of him, regardless of the fact that he’s enjoyed himself. They make him a little needier–a little clingier–but you don't find that you mind it at all.

Kiyoomi pulls away after a few more moments of your comfort, reaching out for his neglected glass. He lifts it to his mouth, and as he swallows down a mouthful of the wine he finally lets his eyes sweep along his surroundings for the first time. You watch as his gaze traces the room while he swallows, admiring the delicate bob of his throat, and then he looks up at you again.

"There's a lot to clean up," he says, setting his glass back down atop the table. There's a drop of red wine clinging to the edge of his mouth, and you reach for him on sheer instinct, cupping his warm cheek in your hand and dragging your thumb along his lip to clean it off. Kiyoomi stares, inky eyes blown-wide and completely captivated, as you lift the digit up to your own mouth and lick it clean.

You can't help but smirk a little at how completely transparent his expression is to you now. How plainly you can see what he's thinking behind those ever-watching eyes.

"It's still your day, you know, birthday boy," you say to him, reaching behind you on the table until your fingers brush the unmistakable shape of the bottle of wine. You drag it towards you by the neck, the glass rumbling as it slides across the tabletop. As you lift it up, the bottle swings precariously in your grip. "That means you're allowed to make a mess."

Kiyoomi swallows, only this time theres no wine in his mouth. He reaches up and catches the base of the bottle as it sways idly before him, and you let him take it from your hand into his own. His eyes trail back to your dress–your pretty dress, his favourite colour dress–and yet again, you know exactly what the man in front of you is thinking, without him having to say a single word.

You and your dress would look even prettier in red.

[99hook]

Personal Photographer

Synopsis: he wants to vividly remember what you look like when you’re coming undone for him

18+ it’s nothing but smut and tooth aching sweet shit cause I couldn’t help myself lmao

Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, pet names, dirty talk, picture taking in the act (if that’s even a warning idk)

A/N:This is one of the ones you all collectively pitched concepts and ideas on and I just ran with it! Enjoy babes! Keep an eye out for your requests over the next few days and lmk if you wanna be tagged! 🫶🏼

Tyler always took pictures for you when you couldn’t be with him. Everywhere he went, he made sure he brought that camera and snapped some shots of places or things you would’ve loved to see. It was also a good way for him to remember where to take you when he gets some time off. At this point, he has certain places he wants you to see all across the country.

“You’ll love this place.” He shows you the picture of a beach he checked out. “The water was so clear and blue. I know you don’t wanna get in unless you can see what’s around you, so we’ll have to go there one day too.”

You smiled as you raked your fingers through his hair, and he mindlessly rubbed your legs that were stretched out across his lap. You leaned your head against his shoulder and placed a single kiss to it.

“Missed you so much.” You whispered against his skin. He glanced down at you, cheeks a tad bit rosier than usual before he pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pushed some hair off of your shoulder and placed a series of hot, wet kisses down the side of your neck before he set the camera down and picked you up, taking you to the bedroom.

“I’ll show you the rest later. We have lost time to make up for right now.”

He’d only been gone for five days but it felt like eternity for both of you. He really wanted to take things slow tonight, but there was a neediness taking over that he couldn’t control. As much as he wanted to make slow, sweet love, the look of you laying underneath him wearing nothing but his t-shirt and panties was simply driving him wild.

He hovered over you letting his eyes roam. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. You know that?”

The shade of your cheeks deepened and he smirked at how shy you still got when he complimented you. It was his goal to make sure you always knew how beautiful you are to him, and make sure you wholeheartedly believed it, too.

He leaned down and placed a tender kiss to your lips, letting them linger for a moment. He felt your hands roam his back, nails gently digging into his skin, and a sly smirk formed on his lips when he picked up on your own neediness for him. As always, it was mutual.

The tips of your noses brushed before your lips connected again, this time far more intense and fueled by the desperation for each other. One of his hands cupped your jaw while the other one roamed down to the hem of your (his) shirt, sliding up your thigh until he found a drenched spot on your panties.

You felt him smile against you and let a little chuckle slip. He already knew the affect he had on you but it was always appreciated when he could physically feel it without even trying.

Your breath hitched in your throat when he used his middle finger to push your panties aside. A sudden series of needy moans and short gasps were lost within his mouth when he started gliding the pad of that same finger up and down and collecting all those sweet juices just to use them as lubrication for when he does this.

Another smirk effortlessly plays on his lips when your nails dig into his back. He pushed his finger between your walls, up to the last knuckle and curled it against your g-spot slowly. He pulled back to watch you, one of his absolute favorite things to do.

His eyes intently studied your reactions as pride swelled within him. Just one finger and you were a moaning mess beneath him. He liked to play around with the rhythm to find what you liked best and by now he’s got the sequence down like second nature.

Three pumps against your sweet spot slowly, then five quicker, rougher ones. You spread your thighs as far as they’d go but involuntarily shut them around his hips when he started rubbing circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb. His mouth slightly fell open as he watched you, brows furrowed in concentration as he made a mental record to give you as many orgasms as you possibly wanted tonight.

“Fuck you’re so hot like this” his voice was filled with an edgy rasp that had your head spinning. “I can feel you tightening around me, you’re already so close you can probably taste it, can’t you baby?”

All you could do was nod eagerly as your mouth fell open and strained gasps and broken whimpers flew threw the air. You started squirming around, hips bucking to match the pumps of his finger and he felt the sudden warmth against his skin, and the way your walls throbbed around him.

“Oh fuck, Tyler I-“

“Mhm, record time” he muttered before he dipped down and latched his lips to your neck, sucking your skin roughly to add to the sensations of it all. “I can feel it babygirl” he muttered against you, “can feel you coming around my finger, fuck I can’t wait until it’s my cock your coming on”

Within seconds you were hit with a high that nearly blinded you. Tyler knew exactly how to ride you through it, and he made sure you were trembling until the very last second. He pulled back again to look at you, sliding his finger out and bringing it to your lips, tracing the wetness across your bottom one before he watched you open your mouth to invite it in.

You could’ve swore you saw that man internally lose it when your lips cupped around his finger and sucked your own juices clean off with a smirk. Within a split second he pulled that finger out and replaced it with his lips. A teeth clashing, tongue fighting type of kiss that sucked the air right out of your lungs.

Your panties were swiftly pulled all the way down to your ankles and you kicked them onto the floor while he raised your shirt up to your neck and leaned up on his knees, quickly sliding his sweats down to his thighs, along with his boxers and grabbing his hard shaft in his hand.

Your eyes fell to it, widening slightly. You’d seen it a trillion and one times but for some reason it always surprised you when it stood proudly. You were always certain you couldn’t take all of him but somehow you did.

The corner of his lips lifted at your reaction before he wrapped a hand underneath your thigh and pulled you down from the pillows you were propped up on. He tapped the tip against your clit three times, then eyed you as he slipped between your walls, but couldn’t help but let his own eyes roll when he felt you squeezing around him.

“Fuck.” He muttered underneath his breath, tipping his head back for a moment. He looked back down at you and the way your brows were knitted tightly together, a general response to his size that he always adored seeing.

He brought his hand up to cup your jaw, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip as he pushed all the way in, and when your mouth fell open, his thumb took the invitation in. You sucked on it, eyes on him doing your best not to close them. His lips parted and a look of pure euphoria washed over his face, but as soon as it was there, it vanished.

You could practically see the gears turning in his mind. An idea forms and he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before.

“Hold up, let me grab something real quick.” He pulls out of you and slides off the bed, leaving the room for a moment to return with his camera in hand and a boyish grin on his face.

You glanced down at it and then back up at him questionably.

“Will you let me do this? I promise nobody will ever see these. I would have to kill them if they did.”

He made his way back between your thighs and waited for your answer. There wasn’t a lot of uncertainty around it. You were just a little self conscious and he knew that, but this was a part of wanting you to realize how stunning you are.

“Okay.” You whispered, watching as his eyes lit up. He set the camera next to him and pushed back in, a little rougher this time. He was now on a mission to pull more reactions from you. He wanted to capture every single thing you did in these moments. Everything he made you feel.

He hiked your leg up, your ankle resting on his shoulder as he pulled out, almost fully, just to slam back into you with a force that had the headboard hitting the wall.

Once he picked up the pace and had you consistently moaning and whimpering beneath him, he grabbed the camera, never once slowing down as he held it up and snapped the pictures he was going to be looking at a lot when he was away from you.

“You’re so fucking hot right now gorgeous” he praises as he captures your blissed face, coupled with your shirt riding up to your neck and your breasts on full display for him. He took his hand and cupped one of them, snapping a picture of that.

Any sense of insecurity that you originally had was washed away in that moment. He was admiring your body while he simultaneously fucked into you. Some of the pictures were probably going to be blurry as he picked up the pace but those were going to be memorable anyway.

He angled the camera down to where his cock disappeared between your walls and gripped your hip with one hand, taking a picture of that too. Two, to be exact.

“You are a fucking masterpiece.”

You moaned to his praises and reached up for him. He placed the camera down and leaned down, holding your ankle against his shoulder as he rocked into you. You were an absolute mess of whines and moans and shortly you were going to be screaming his name and he knew it.

That’s exactly what he was aiming for.

He put all his focus into making you come harder than you ever have. He wanted to see everything he could possibly do to you. He wanted to make this something you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about next time he has to leave.

“You’re taking me so well, baby.” He praises. He reaches over and finds your hand, intertwining your fingers and pinning it over your head. His forehead presses against yours and he looks down between your sweaty bodies and watches his length disappear into you.

“That tight little pussy is squeezing my cock like your life depends on it.” He grits his teeth as he pulls his hips back and crashes back into you, earning a squeal to echo through the room. A sound he knows he hasn’t yet heard from you, and one he wishes he could hear forever.

“Like that?” He breathlessly starts to pant. All you can do his nod and hum a response. Any words you have ever learned in your life are long forgotten.

He picked up on your body language and switched the pace, pulling out to snap back in, hitting your sweet spot just right every single time.

His hand gave yours a squeeze when he felt your walls clench down around him and he knew then and there that you were on the edge of an all consuming orgasm and he wanted to make absolute certain that it was going to leave you in shambles.

“Look at me” he demanded as he pulled back and hovered above you. You felt his grip around your hand loosen and his fingers slip away before he cupped your jaw instead. “You wanna come?” He quirked a brow, watching as you nodded needily.

“Need to hear you say it. What do you want?” His hips snapped in and you swore you could feel it in your stomach.

“Yes! Fuck yes tyler!” You shouted, your voice strained and rasped.

“Yes what?” His tone grew deep and thick as he continued rocking into you, sending your mind far off from your own body.

“I want to come!” You cried out. “I’m so close, I need it! I need to come so fucking bad!”

“What’s stopping you?” A condescending edge lingered. “Need me to fuck you harder?” and before you could even respond, he dropped your leg off of his shoulder and rose up to his knees, wrapping his hands under your thighs and hiking them up to his waist to hit at an even deeper angle.

His thrusts sped up and his cock drove even deeper, hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had that caused tears to prick the corners of your eyes. You tried to look up at him but he was a blur and when you squeezed your eyes shut all you saw was a white, blinding light.

“That’s my girl. Taking all of me so fucking well.” He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly and your breasts bouncing from the impact and he knew it wasn’t going to be long for him either.

“Oh God!” You cried out. Your stomach was churning as a warmth spread rapidly through your veins and Tyler could see that you were seconds away from coming completely and utterly undone.

He quickly grabbed the camera and held it up, thrusts still strong as he tried with all his might to fight his own release. The moment he felt that warm sensation engulf him, your walls throbbing around him, he snapped a photo, probably his favorite one, for that matter.

You pressed your head hard against the pillows, back arching high off of mattress as he kept fucking into you, praising you as he helped you ride out that high.

“That’s it baby, thats what you needed.” He felt it himself, and he was able to give into it now. “Im about to fill you up, I want you dripping for me when you get up in the morning. Then ima fuck it all back into you.”

His thrusts got stronger yet sloppier. You felt his fingertips digging into the skin of your thighs as he watched you, still consumed by your own orgasm.

“Ima make sure you stay filled up with me when I’m home. Not gonna be a time my come isn’t dripping down these thighs.” He bends down and gives your inner thigh a series of kisses and a few bites in between, only adding to the euphoria you were succumbed in.

“And when im gone, you’re gonna remember this. Remember me fucking you how you deserve to be. ‘Cause I’ll be back to do it all over again.”

You could hardly comprehend him due to the ringing of your ears but you peered your eyes open and managed to catch his head tipping back, jaw clenched tight as he crashed into you three more times.

His hips stuttered then stilled, chest glistening with sweat and low groans buzzed through his throat as he did exactly what he said he was going to do.

It was then that you grabbed his camera, quickly sneaking a pic of him in that exact moment. His cock twitched and you felt the warmth fill you to the brim, watching as his chest heaved heavily and beads of sweat slid down from his collar bone to his torso.

He looked back down at you, clearly fucked out himself. His hair was sticking to his skin and lips parted and swollen, cheeks slightly rosy too.

He noticed the camera in your hands and pieced it all together through the brain fog.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece.” You whispered breathlessly, the corners of his mouth lightly twitched upwards. “I want that picture. Wanna remember that when you’re gone.”

He pulled out of you slowly and collapsed on top of you, holding his own weight with his elbows as he cradled your face. He placed two gentle kisses to your cheek before he pulled back with a dimpled grin.

“I won’t let you forget.”