The string lights were somewhere in the middle. Those warm, glowing ones that you’ve turned on that hang above your bed, because you want there to be enough lighting to see what he’ll do to you but you don’t want so much to where you’re under inspection by those beautiful eyes of his. Also, you look pretty damn hot under dim warm lighting.

The sheets were neatly made, your gigantic Costco teddy bear stashed off to the corner of the room somewhere, and the rest of it all was tidy. You tidied up for this. Why? And why were you so nervous? And, again, was this dress-slash-lingerie too romantic? And was the candle you lit at the bedside table also too romantic?

Oh goddd of course it was. You rush over to it and pick it up, blow it out like it’s the opposite of your birthday, and then shove it back into the drawer somewhere, the scent of ashy smoke tickling at your nose.

It wasn’t your idea. It was Gojo’s. He said something about how he could never fully focus on the sex when he was taking you against some corner of the house because he was always worried your mom was gonna pop out of nowhere and catch the two of you fucking. Like with each time he came inside of you, he was being conditioned like a dog to only nut when he has the feeling of fear in his veins. His words, not yours. And so he suggested: Why not at night? Just sneak me in.

It was hot. The idea of sneaking a dude inside the house. The windows set off the alarm, so you learned how to turn it off both on your mom’s phone and also at the windows without her noticing. Maybe you had the skills to run a heist of sorts, with the way you’ve thought this whole thing through.

And honestly, the idea of him in your bed was, well, kind of a silly one at first because it’s a very effeminate bed to picture a grown ass man to be in first of all, but also nice, because you’re so used to the two of you having sex standing up or on surfaces close to the nearest closet or exit such that if your mom unexpectedly came home, there was an easy escape plan. There was no easy escape plan for Gojo if the two of you were to get caught in your room, other than perhaps jump off the roof and risk breaking an ankle.

But, still, you said yes. Yes to the idea of sneaking him in at night.

Problem was, it’s been about a month since he’s seen you. You couldn’t really visit often since you had finals last week, but now you’re home for spring break and that meant a lot more time on your hands than you knew what to do with. A sentiment you shared with Gojo, to which he responded with, just do me?

Everytime you came home and saw him, it felt brand new all over again. Which was an exciting feeling for your girl down south, but not so great for your brain. Because every time you saw him after a long break of being away at some far, far away land (college), it felt like he was a stranger all over again. And you didn’t know how to act in front of him. Second-guessing things like candles and string lights and vanilla perfume and–okay, the more you look in the mirror, the more it just looks like romantic lingerie.

You take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves, and the universe couldn’t even afford that for you, because you hear scattered pounding noises at your window, which entirely startles you. You rush over to your window and open the blinds, just to jolt when the sight of a small pebble thwacks at the glass that would otherwise have hit you right between your eyes if not for the protection.

You see Gojo standing on the lawn of your house at the dead of night, only barely illuminated by the front door light of your house, and his lengthy shadow is casted across the driveway. He’s holding some loose pebbles in his hand, of which he stole from the garden clearly, and has his other hand shoved in the pocket of his gray sweatpants. He looks as he always does. Casually gorgeous. Like it took him ten minutes to get ready and look like that while you were fussing with your hair for the better part of the past couple hours just to get it to sit right.

You open the window by pushing it to the side, not without struggle due to how ungreased the panes were, and then lean over it to shoot a death glare at him. “Pebbles?? Really?? You’re throwing pebbles at my window??” you whisper-hiss at him.

He raises an arm up into the sky lazily. “Cinderella! Let down your hair,” he whisper-shouts.

“It’s Rapunzel, you idiot.”

“Oh. Well, will ya let me in?”

You glance off into the neighborhood, the darkness you find being unsettling. It was also eerily quiet, which the neighborhood always was at night to be fair, but tonight, the silence felt unwelcomed.

You glance down at Gojo, who has now abandoned the rocks off to the grassy part of the lawn and is looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

“Not through the front door,” you whisper, “that’s risky. Climb up here.”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

You watch his form disappear somewhere underneath the roof towards the garage door, and then next thing you know, he’s climbed up onto the wood paneling to then make it towards your window.

You step aside so he can squeeze through the barely sufficient amount of opening you’ve cracked open for him, ducking his head wildly under too because he was too big in general for most regular-human-sized things, and then he was standing in your room, visualized only by the warm string light lighting, and he dusts his hands off as he looks around the room.

“Damn, place looks nice,” he comments with a small huff as he catches his breath and dusts his hands off, then he turns to look at you, dragging his gaze downwards in a way that has your cheeks searing, “and you look really hot.”

“Thanks,” is all you can think to say before he grins and walks up to you, towering over you and there those nerves are again as his hands hold you by the waist and he pulls you towards him to kiss you, wasting no time at all in sliding his hands up to wrap your ribcage and prod his thumbs against the softness of your breasts through sheer fabric. You stand stiff, your arms only raising up slightly to make room for his hands with no contact, and then you gently push him away, breaking the kiss.

“I’m worried about getting caught,” you tell him candidly, placing both palms on his chest, warm through the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

His hands slide down to hold your waist again. “What?”

“I dunno. Like, what if my mom heard you outside the house just now. Or if Yuuji can sense your presence.”

He snorts. “What, like a dog? I mean, he’s not far off from one.”

You glare at him and then pull his hands off of you before crossing the room over to the door, checking for the umpteenth time that you put the door stopper underneath it as your own version of a lock, since the actual door didn’t have one. You hear Gojo sigh behind you, and when you turn around, he’s pacing around the room now.

“Being in here’s a lot different at 2am than it is at 2pm,” he comments at the foot of the bed before continuing his leisure stroll.

“You go inside my room when you’re babysitting??” you ask.

He shrugs. “‘Course I do. You look cute in your yearbook, by the way. Nice braces.”

Heat spreads to your cheeks. “I can’t believe you, trespassing on my private property.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never stolen any of your panties.”

“I wasn’t even worried about that.”

He stops by the foot of the bed again. “Oh. Well, in case, in the future someday, you do worry about it, then just don’t.”

He puts his hands in his pockets again and stares at you from across the room. He looks ethereal almost, with the backdrop of subtly moving lighting behind him across the wall, and you could say there was a hint of longing in his eyes with the way he was looking at you.

He jerks his head towards the surface of the bed. “C’mere.”

You shake your head slightly.

He finally crosses the room and stands in front of you, so close that you feel the warmth from him, and you look up at him with a beating heart. “It’s just me,” he says, and he takes your hand in his before placing your palm flat to his chest, “See? Just me. You remember me, don’t you?”

You melt, releasing the stiff breath you were holding in, and your arms slide past his shoulders, linking behind his neck as you pull him down to kiss you, feeling him smile against your lips as he holds you to him. He smells clean, of shampoo, like he just took a shower before coming here, and when you run your hand through the hair at the back of his head, you notice it was still a little damp.

He lifts you up suddenly by his palms under your ass, and you loosely wrap your legs around him as he carries you over to your bed, then drops you down onto it, from enough of a height where you bounce up and down a little with the springs, and suddenly he’s all you can see as he hovers over you in dim lighting.

“Um,” you squeak out when he kisses under your jaw, your hand curling to hold his shoulder as he trails his lips down your neck. “My bed is squeaky in some places, so, um, sorry. Might have to avoid those spots.”

He withdraws his lips from your skin to look at you, raises an eyebrow, then says, “you think of all the things I’d give a fuck about right now with you half naked underneath me, that it’d be a squeaking bed?”

You let out a huff of air. “It’s so that we’re quiet. So that my mom doesn’t hear.”

“Again,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hand snakes up the flimsy fabric of your dress, his eye watching the way you’re already shivering to his touch, “not exactly my biggest worry right now.”

.

.

.

.

.

[end of teaser]