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his mouth shuts instantly, the harsh words dying in his throat as he realizes he almost unleashed it on you. not some drunk fratboy—you.

his expression falters, caught somewhere between guilt and surprise, like he’s embarrassed to have let you see even a flicker of that edge.

“sorry!” you apologize. you’re looking for your friend who invited you to come here after she left you to make out with some boy who smelled like hotdog water. she’s supposed to be your ride home tonight and you’re not enjoying the smell of evaporated sweat anymore.

suguru takes note of your soberness as he looks at you. no signs of flushed cheeks or a drunk squint. he realizes that he might have been staring at you longer than needed so he clears his throat and speaks. “s’fine.”

what the fuck was that? s s’fine? you fucking idiot.

internally panicking that he might’ve come off too cold, suguru cusses himself out in his head. smooth. real smooth.

he can already feel the blush creeping up his neck, the shame mixing all too easily with something much worse—want.

he’s trying hard not to dwell on the way you look tonight. the tiny skirt that stops just below your plump ass. the way your thighs press together when you shift your weight. or worse—the way that little squeal you let out when you bumped into him sounded dangerously close to the moan you made the other night when you were…

he swallows hard. fuck. not the time.

“did you guys see meimei anywhere? she’s supposed to be my ride tonight.” you ask them once choso finally managed to drag nanami by suguru’s side out the porch, the other two catching up aswell.  

suguru’s still forming words to speak but shoko is quick to answer, waving a thumb finger towards her back. 

“i think i saw her go upstairs with that toji dude.” she slurred as she tried to step forward, leaning too much instead. satoru tries straightening her up and smiles drunkenly.

suguru watches your brows knit together in frustration, guessing that you knew that your friend wouldn’t be able to drive you back now. he also watches you mutter out a discouraged thanks to the group and start to walk back into the house. satoru nudges his shoulder, pointing his white head to your fleeting figure.

“come ride with us.” suguru says, a little too loud and a little too demanding. 

shoko winces at his tone before slapping a hand on her face to stop herself from laughing at her friend. satoru, whose arm is still draped on shoko, hears his friend try to cover her laugh, making him snicker as well.

suguru glares at his friends but stops his mouth from cursing them, waiting for your response. you turn back to the man with hopeful eyes and start to walk back to the group.

“are you sure?” you ask him. you looked at him like he was some kind of knight in shining armor, ready to save you from this junk house. this made suguru feel something bubbly in his stomach. manly moths, perhaps.

he’s so lost in your eyes that choso had to swoop in for his friend before you notice how suguru’s face is starting to get red.

“yeah, i can drive you back. you and suguru live in the same building, right?” he asks you with a friendly smile.

“uhh… yeah, we’re in the same building” you answer, smiling back at the man who’s nanami clinging on to. 

suguru settles on keeping everything he wants to say locked in his head. it’s driving him insane—the way every step toward the car is filled with your laughter, your voice threading so easily into his friends’ conversation, while he’s stuck walking beside you in silence, planning what he might say when you’re finally alone again.

but talking to you now? it’s torture.

because all he can think about is last night.

the sound of you through the thin dorm walls, soft and frustrated, trying to get yourself off. the way you sighed when your fingers didn’t quite get you there.

like you needed more.

like you needed someone else.

his jaw tightens, breath shallow, eyes locked on the ground like it might cool him off.

as you reach the car, it’s already been decided: blacked-out nanami stays slumped in the back, and shoko’s half-dead body is draped across the passenger seat. that leaves just enough room for two people beside nanami.

“wanna sit on my lap, y/n? i can sit on yours if that’s better,” shoko mumbles, giggling, eyelids at half-mast. you’re pretty sure you understood maybe three words out of all that.

“it’s too dangerous to do that in the front,” choso adds from the driver’s seat, voice flat. honestly, you kind of agree, you’re not risking getting vomited on tonight. before suguru can politely offer to find another ride, dipshit satoru decides to open his mouth. “why don’t you sit on sugu’s lap? it’s safer at the back,” he offers.

your energy spikes—subtle, unnoticed by anyone. it wouldn’t hurt to sit on a hunk, right? especially him.

“that’s fine with me,” you reply, maybe too cheerfully, flashing suguru a smile you hope lands somewhere between casual and cute.

he looks like he’s about to choke and thank satoru all at once. you watch his mouth open, then close, no words forming. it’s kind of adorable, seeing him speechless for once.

“alright, everything’s settled then,” is all he manages to say as everyone starts climbing into their seats.

you settle onto suguru’s lap, trying not to combust. you’ve been crushing on your next-door neighbor ever since you caught him coming home at the same time as you. he was sweaty, probably just back from the gym, and you still remember the way the sheen on his biceps made you lose track of your thoughts. you even had to mentally slap yourself when you found out your blockmate, shoko, was close friends with him and actually introduced the two of you. the universe really was out to get you.

the first challenge was closing the door. suguru shifted beneath you, lifting his hips and dragging you with him as he scooted forward to shut the door. the motion slid you deeper into his lap, your skirt bunching up around your waist. now, only the thin fabric of your panties and the soft press of his sweatpants separated you from his bulging cock.

his breath hitched, barely audible, but you felt it, warm against your neck. your pulse was loud in your ears, heat curling low in your belly. you were hyperaware of everything: the soft hum of the engine, the muffled voices up front, the weight of his hands settling on your hips like he wasn’t even thinking about it. 

neither of you moved, like you were both daring the other to break first. like you’d both forgotten there were other people in the car… until a laugh from satoru snapped the moment in half, leaving only the thrum of want, heavy and unspoken.

the car rolled forward and the tension didn’t ease. if anything, it thickened. his hands stayed where they were. your body stayed where it had landed, pressed snugly against him. neither of you said anything, and you weren’t sure if it was just you imagining things, or if he was too polite to ask you to shift off.

you tried not to breathe too hard. you tried not to think about how warm he was under you. you definitely tried not to think about how his cock felt beneath you, or how much of your skin your skirt wasn’t covering.

and then the car jolted.

choso hit a bump too fast, and the whole vehicle lurched. you gasped as your body ground hard into his, your thighs tightening around his as you struggled not to fall forward. his grip on your hips tightened instantly, firm and sudden.

for a second, it felt like the world stopped.

then, soft—so soft you almost missed it—he exhaled your name like it hurt to say.

and just as the heat built again, the universe decided it had enough fun.

“mmn… fuckin’ hell,” nanami mumbled beside you, suddenly stirring from his blackout. “who hit me with a truck?”

you flinched slightly, instinctively trying to shift off suguru’s lap, but his hand caught your waist for just a second too long before letting go. heat surged across your face. suguru looked away, jaw tense, as nanami blinked around like he had no idea what year it was.

“we didn’t crash, right?” nanami asked, rubbing his temples.

“nah, just a bump. you’re good,” satoru said from the other side, barely suppressing a laugh. “go back to sleep, sleeping beauty.”

“fuck off,” nanami muttered, slumping sideways, right into satoru who let out a wheeze and started complaining about how heavy he was.

shoko snored softly in the front. choso didn’t say a word, eyes locked on the road like he was pretending his blind ass didn’t hit a hump too fast.

you exhaled slowly, trying to settle your heartbeat as you adjusted your skirt, finally able to sit up straighter. the moment between you and suguru had dissipated, at least, on the surface.

but under the quiet buzz of the car, and nanami’s groaning, and satoru’s complaining, something still lingered. the press of his hands. the sound of your name on his breath. the tension hadn’t vanished, it had just gone quiet, waiting for its next chance.

the rest of the ride passed in a haze of low conversation, drunken groans, and the occasional sharp turn from choso that made everyone lean just a little too close. you tried not to think about suguru’s thigh pressed against yours or the way he hadn’t looked at you since nanami woke up. tried not to think about how he still hadn’t let go right away.

eventually, the car slowed in front of your dorm building. choso put it in park with a heavy sigh, like the drive had drained the last bit of his will to live. shoko was still knocked out cold, mouth open, a soft snore vibrating in the quiet.

“alright,” satoru whispered dramatically, nudging nanami awake again. “lovebirds, this is your stop.”

you rolled your eyes and moved to gather your things. suguru slipped out first, reaching back for you. his hand was warm when it closed around yours—gentle, but firm enough that your breath caught. he helped you down like it meant nothing, like you both hadn’t spent the last ten minutes thinking about what it felt like to be that close.

his fingers lingered. yours almost gripped back.

the building was quiet, only the low buzz of vending machines and the flicker of a dying hallway light filling the space between you. you walked side by side toward your doors—neighbors, nothing more, but every inch between your bodies felt like a dare.

you stopped in front of your door and reached into your bag. once. twice. a third time, more frantic now.

“shit,” you whispered. “no, no, no… i left my key.”

you jiggled the handle anyway, as if hoping your door would suddenly decide to forgive you.

suguru was quiet. you glanced up to find him watching you, jaw tight, brows drawn slightly like he was working through something.

then his eyes flicked to his door. just one step away.

his voice was low when it came, almost strangled.

“you can stay in my room.”

you blinked, heart stuttering. had you heard him right?

he dragged a hand through his hair, gaze darting to the floor, to the vending machine, anywhere but you. “just… just for tonight.”

his fingers fumbled with the key in his pocket, knuckles stiff like he didn’t trust himself to do anything else with them. he wasn’t breathing right. neither were you.

your throat dried, knowing that once you entered that door, whatever line the two of you had been pretending not to toe would disappear completely.

your voice caught somewhere behind your tongue. your fingers twitched at your sides, unsure if they should grab the hem of your skirt or reach for him instead. he wasn’t moving, but he didn’t need to, his silence screamed louder than anything. waiting…

“are you sure?” you asked, barely above a whisper, not trusting yourself to say more.

his lips parted like he wanted to answer, like he had an answer, but instead, he just unlocked his door with a shaky click and stepped aside, holding it open for you.

you hesitated.

just one step.

just one step and this would no longer be a crush, a tension, a thing to swallow and hide.

you met his eyes one more time.

he looked at you like he was already touching you.

and then—

a voice from the hallway behind you

“yo, y/n!—did you leave your keys in the car?”

satoru.

~

a/n: part 3 is posted!

the way your breath hitches whenever you play with your pretty pussy- oh, he could only imagine how you look right now with your hands slipped under your soaked panties, fingers pumping in and out of you as you desperately try to chase your high when he’s just in the other room more than ready to take over for you.

the first time he heard you try to get yourself off was when he just got out of the shower. body was still wet and his towel hung loosely on his toned hips. suguru sat on his bed, about to type a reply for satoru’s text when his ears suddenly picked up small whimpers coming from the thin layer of wood separating your rooms.

suguru wasn’t stupid, he knows that college students fuck around alot in their dorms but hearing his long time crush moan in pleasure kicks slightly at his heart, however he’d be lying if he said that his dick didn’t twitched beneath his towel whenever you let out a filthy mewl.

but as every pleasurable heave you let out grew louder and faster, suguru’s self restraint and morality slowly slipped. he found himself acting like a pervert when he pressed his back onto the wall, trying to hear more of you.

as he leaned the back of his head on the light wall and closed his eyes to try hyphening his senses, suguru noticed that there were no other moans or grunts that seeped through the barrier except yours. heat instantly rushed to his cheeks when he realized that you weren’t having sex.

you were fucking your fingers.

and you’re still doing it now too. with every failed attempt of you chasing your high, suguru succeeds on milking his cock. his dick should’ve been limp by now but your fucking moans work like magic, bringing it back to life as if he didn’t just beat his meat for the fourth time.

you let out one fat whine, making his hips rut into his pillow. if only he has the confidence to barge into your door and slap your fingers away to replace it with his cock but, fuck. he’s always blushing around you whenever you talk to him and it just annoys the shit out of his ego.

because of his lack of confidence, all he can do now is drown out your cries of frustration while he tosses and turns on his bed with a badly beaten cock in his pants, sending a reply to satoru's forgotten text before lulling himself to sleep. gogo jojo:

you strip out of your clothes, try to convince yourself you’re just taking a quick rinse before bed. but everything you do feels like a slow seduction. lifting your shirt, slipping out of your skirt. you peel your panties down and you swear your thighs twitch from the memory of his lap underneath them.

you stand under the spray longer than needed, palms flat against the tile, forehead resting between your arms. it’s not helping. you’re too keyed up, too wound tight.

by the time you get out, towel wrapped around your chest, the ache has become a throb.

you dry off, slip into a loose camisole dress and nothing else, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders. the fabric clings to your skin as you climb into bed, and you tell yourself you’re just going to lie down and sleep it off.

but your thighs rub together again, and the friction sends a jolt straight to your core.

you bite your lip, eyes shut, your hand slipping beneath the covers like it has a mind of its own.

you try to ignore the heat gathering between your legs. you try to ignore the memory of his hands on your waist, the way he lifted you like you weighed nothing, the subtle grind of his hips beneath you.

but you can’t.

your fingers slide beneath your dress and down, brushing over the damp heat already pooling there. you sigh—soft, shaky—and press your palm against your core.

your hips twitch. it’s too much. it’s not enough.

you push your hand into your panties, middle finger gliding between your folds. already slick. already pulsing.

your breath hitches.

you bite the inside of your cheek and close your eyes, painting suguru in the darkness behind your lids—his sharp jaw, his dark hair falling over his brow, the hungry way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

you circle your clit, slow and aching, and your breath catches again.

he’d touch you like this, wouldn’t he?

carefully, deliberately—like you’d break if he didn’t take his time.

you let your hips rise to meet your hand as you slip a finger inside, moaning softly at the stretch, imagining it’s him—long fingers, warm hands, knuckles curling just right.

your other hand grips the sheets.

you think about how his breath would ghost over your neck. how he’d groan when he felt how wet you were. how he wouldn’t stop with just his fingers.

you pump your hand faster, your thighs trembling, your toes curling beneath the covers.

“fuck—” you gasp, your voice audible, your hips rocking up.

you imagine him whispering your name again, rough and low, right into your ear. imagine him saying please, like he needs you to fall apart for him.

your back arches.

your moan escapes before you can bite it down… and you’re hoping he hears it enough.

~

suguru knows he’s fucked the second he closes his door.

he leans against it, jaw tight, fists clenched, his forehead hitting the wood with a dull thunk. the ghost of your body is still pressed to his lap—his thighs remember the weight of you, his hands remember the curve of your waist, and his cock… well, his cock hasn’t forgotten a damn thing.

he exhales hard through his nose, trying to will it all away. he’s not a fucking teenager. he’s an adult. he can control himself.

except he can’t.

not when he hears your voice in his head, that soft, breathy "are you sure?" replaying like a loop. not when he remembers how you looked at him—like you wanted to say yes. like you would have, if that idiot hadn’t shouted your name from down the hall.

he peels off his hoodie, dragging a hand through his hair before grabbing a clean shirt from the chair. his heart’s still hammering. and he’s about to do the mature thing, really—was gonna brush his teeth, maybe splash some water on his face, sleep it off like a normal human.

but then—

a sound.

faint. barely there. but so familiar it makes his entire body freeze.

a soft sigh. high-pitched. choked off.

your voice.

his head turns toward the wall.

and then he hears it again. a broken moan, muffled by drywall and poor insulation, but real.

he goes still. every muscle taut, breath caught in his throat like it’s stuck behind his ribs.

his brain tries to reason, maybe she dropped something. maybe she stubbed her toe.

but then you moan again. longer. this one doesn’t sound like pain.

suguru’s jaw locks. his fists clench at his sides, nails biting into his palm.

he shouldn’t listen.

he shouldn’t be standing here, two feet from his bed, ear tilted slightly toward the paper-thin wall that separates his room from yours.

but he can’t move.

because he knows exactly what that sound is.

and the worst part?

he recognizes it.

he remembers it. that same exact sound—when he heard you trying to keep quiet last night.

you didn’t succeed that night either.

a low curse slips past his lips.

he scrubs a hand over his mouth, as if he can force his body to settle, but it’s useless. the image of you, touching yourself alone, frustrated, wet and needy just a few feet away—it’s driving him insane.

especially when he knows you were just on his lap twenty minutes ago.

and then—fuck.

he hears it.

his name.

your breathy voice whispering it, strained and soft like you’re trying not to let it out. but it slips anyway.

his cock throbs in his pants, so hard it’s painful.

he’s had enough.

suguru pushes off the wall and stalks to his door without thinking and walking to yours. no plan, no logic. just the heavy thrum of need in his chest and a voice in his head screaming she wants this too.

he’s standing outside your door.

not knocking.

not calling your name.

just… there, caught in the low hum of your quiet, broken moans bleeding through the wood like they’re meant for him. every muscle in his body’s drawn tight, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s trying to squeeze the restraint back into himself.

he shouldn't be here.

should turn around, pretend he didn't hear anything, pretend he doesn’t want anything.

but he doesn’t move.

just stares at the door like it's some kind of threshold, like if he crosses it, he won’t come back the same.

he exhales slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

then his hand lifts—hesitating just an inch from the doorknob. his fingertips graze it. rest there. heat coiled low in his stomach, pounding louder than reason.

he doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he finally presses down.

but it turns.

unlocked.

his breath catches.

the door eases open, quiet on its hinges, revealing the soft spill of light from your bathroom and the shape of you in bed—caught mid-movement, limbs tangled in the sheets, chest rising and falling like you’ve been trying not to fall apart.

then your eyes snap up.

and fuck.

you look like a dream barely held together. like he could breathe too hard and unravel you completely.

you freeze when you see him—but you don’t cover up.

you just stare, lips parted, flushed and wanting, your hand still between your thighs.

and he can’t move.

can’t breathe.

you whisper his name like it’s something sacred.

suguru steps inside and closes the door without a sound.

you don't move at first.

neither does he.

the room feels too still, like it’s holding its breath for you. the air is thick with everything that didn’t happen earlier—everything that almost did. and now he’s here, framed in your doorway like a goddamn storm about to break loose.

“you left it unlocked,” he says again, voice gravelled at the edges, like it’s physically hurting him to keep calm.

you swallow. your body’s already aching—still hot, still wound tight from where you left off—and now he’s just standing there, watching you like he’s deciding if he can survive touching you.

“...i thought i did” you saysoftly, breath shallow.

his jaw flexes. his fingers twitch. but he still doesn’t move.

so you do.

you don’t even realize you’re moving until your feet touch the floor.

the air in the room feels different now—charged, like it's humming beneath your skin. suguru’s still standing there in the doorway, his breathing unsteady, hair loose around his shoulders, jaw tight.

his eyes rake over you.

you’re still in the same thin camisole dress, the hem barely covering anything, one strap already half-off your shoulder from how restless you’d been. his gaze darkens when he sees it.

“you were doing that on purpose, weren’t you?” he says, voice low, like it’s coming from the base of his throat.

your lips part. “what?”

he steps inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the distance like a wave pulling you under. “lying in there, making those sounds. moaning my name.”

“i wasn’t trying to—”

“but you knew i could hear you.”

he stops just short of touching you. his eyes flicker from your mouth, to your neck, to the slip of strap on your shoulder. “you wanted me to come.”

you should lie. you should deny it.

but all you can manage is a whisper.

“and you did..”

that’s all it takes.

in a heartbeat, he grabs you—his hands hot on your hips as he pins you back to the wall with a thud, mouth crashing against yours like he’s been holding back for far too long.

you gasp, fingers fisting in his shirt as he kisses you rough, messy, hungry. like he needs this—needs you—more than air. 

he pulls away, but you try to catch his lips again. he forgives you the first time but pulls away again, this time cupping your jaw.

he’s staring at you—like he’s trying to burn the sight into his memory. your camisole straps have fallen completely now, leaving your chest bare, your dress slipping up from your thighs, your breath shallow as his hands find your waist.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. “always knew you were trouble.”

before you can answer, he drops to his knees.

you gasp, back arching slightly as his hands slide down the backs of your thighs, coaxing your legs apart. you adjust you dress straps back in place again, giving him more access down. he’s kneeling between them like it’s reverent—like he’s about to worship—and when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, you nearly melt against the wall.

“suguru—” your voice is breathless, already trembling.

“i’ve been thinking about this all night,” he murmurs, voice hot against your skin. “you, squirming in that tiny skirt. then you moaning through the wall like you wanted me to hear. you don’t know what you did to me.”

his lips press kisses just above your knees, the inside of your thighs, everywhere but where you need him most.

when he finally licks a slow, firm stripe up your slit, you cry out.

he hums like he’s satisfied with your reaction, hands gripping your thighs tighter as he buries his face between them. his tongue is soft and wet, curling perfectly over your clit before dipping down again, slow and purposeful.

you fist your hands in his hair.

it’s too good—the way his mouth moves like he knows exactly how to make you fall apart, like he’s memorized the sound of every breathy whimper you make.

and then he flattens his tongue and sucks.

your hips jerk, thighs trembling around his head.

“stay still,” he growls against your cunt, the vibration making your knees buckle. “i’ve barely started.”

he circles your clit again and again, pausing only to slide one thick finger inside you—then two. it’s all too much, too good, the pressure curling low and tight and impossible to ignore.

you’re panting now, moaning louder, your body shaking as you ride the edge.

and then he growls, low and filthy:

“cum for me, baby. let me taste it.”

you fall apart instantly.

your body tightens, trembling, thighs clamping around his head as your orgasm hits—loud and blinding, your cry echoing down the hall as you soak his mouth and fingers. he doesn't stop—not until you’re whimpering from the sensitivity, trying to squirm away.

only then does he stand again.

his mouth is wet, lips shiny with you, and when he kisses you, you taste yourself on his tongue. it’s filthy and soft and so intimate it makes your chest ache.

“i should’ve done that the first time i saw you,” he says, and you barely get the breath to laugh.

before you can recover, he lifts you again—effortless, like he’s been waiting to get his hands on you this way. your legs wrap around him instinctively, arms around his neck, and this time, he doesn’t bother to slow down.

he slides down his sweats and lines himself up, groaning as he rubs the head of his cock through your soaked folds. you’re still slick and pulsing from the orgasm, so when he pushes in—thick and deep and all at once—it knocks the breath from your lungs.

“shit,” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re perfect—fuck, so tight”

you gasp. “don’t stop—please, don’t stop—”

and he doesn’t.

he fucks you hard against the wall, his hips slamming up into yours with heavy, filthy rhythm. the slap of skin fills the space around you—along with your moans and his breathless grunts, the soft creak of the wall behind you as he thrusts deeper, harder, every movement hitting that perfect spot inside.

you’re unraveling all over again—sensitive and overstimulated, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure builds fast and wild.

“you close again?” he growls.

you nod frantically, unable to form words. your mouth is open, eyes glassy, clinging to him like you’re drowning in the feeling.

he kisses you once—hard—and mutters, “then cum with me. i wanna feel it when i fill you up.”

that’s all it takes.

your second orgasm crashes through you like a wave—hot and dizzying, making you cry out as you squeeze around him.

and that—that—is what sends him over the edge.

he groans deep in his chest, hips jerking one last time before he spills into you—hot and thick, the warmth flooding you in thick pulses. his forehead drops to your shoulder, both of you panting, boneless, trembling.

you cling to each other for a long moment, both struggling to catch your breath, your heartbeat still pounding in your ears. his cock stays buried deep inside you, softening slowly, but neither of you move.

then he pulls back to look at you.

hair messy, lips kiss-bitten, and still inside you—he smirks.

“…think that made up for satoru ruining the moment earlier?”

you snort, head falling back against the wall with a soft laugh. “yeah. you could say that.”

he chuckles, finally sliding out of you carefully, lowering you gently to the floor.

you wobble immediately.

“shit—my legs,” you mutter, grabbing his arm for balance.

he steadies you, grinning smugly. “guess i did a good job then.”

“you’re so annoying.”

“and yet,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “you let me ruin you anyway.”

you glare at him, half-playful. “you’re gonna be impossible after this.”

“i was impossible before this,” he says, shrugging, cocky.

you roll your eyes and try to take a step. your legs give a very unsteady wobble.

“…okay, maybe you have a point,” you mumble, holding onto his arm tighter.

he laughs and scoops you up again without asking, carrying you bridal-style like you weigh nothing.

“let’s clean you up,” he says, heading toward his room. “then round two. but on a bed this time.”

“round two?”

he smirks. “sweetheart, i’ve waited months for this. we’re not stopping at one.”

you groan—but your smile says otherwise.

after all, you did moan his name through a dorm wall on purpose.

fair’s fair.

a/n: AAAA finally finished it!!! sorry for the long wait. this girly had to survive engineering midterms lol. hope u guys liked the ending <33