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imaginedisish · 5 months ago

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Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself.

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time.

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night.

Or so you thought.

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you.

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?”

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?”

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth.

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.”

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head.

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him.

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game.

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy.

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks.

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest.

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you.

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask.

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer.

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again.

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.”

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop.

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can��t bring yourself to tell him why.

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone.

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask.

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?”

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes.

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.”

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people.

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks.

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks.

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly.

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say.

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below.

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on.

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts.

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.”

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts.

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties.

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs.

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you.

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips.

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit.

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly.

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing.

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles.

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst.

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish.

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming.

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop.

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp.

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release.

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice.

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit.

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist.

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

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moonlightrafe · 8 months ago

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The Albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

#aegon targaryen #aegon II targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon II targaryen x reader #aegon II x you #tom glynn carney #aegon targaryen drabble #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon ii #aegon ii drabble #Aegon fluff #dad!aegon #aegon x strong!reader #house of the dragon #hotd #aegon targaryen fluff #aegon ii targaryen fluff #king aegon

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heeliopheelia · 11 months ago

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least.

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now.

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully.

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it.

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there.

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you.

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again.

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him.

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further.

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.”

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment.

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you.

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough.

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?”

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead.

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly.

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips.

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut.

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly.

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly.

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered.

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace.

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on.

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles.

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe.

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck.

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him.

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry.

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body.

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound.

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?”

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom.

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers.

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles.

You feel awful.

Jake feels even worse.

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting.

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.”

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible.

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago.

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand.

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl.

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?”

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him.

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well.

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more.

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair.

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest.

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago.

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again.

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers.

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago.

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

permanent taglist + taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @seongclb @iamnotalicia

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milawritess · 1 month ago

Text

Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow — Gojo Satoru

pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: crushed by the pressure of his work, Satoru and the reader's relationship begins to spiral. You do everything you can to make him happy, but you fear it's not enough. Maybe it never was. After a miscalculation that could have resulted in innocent lives being lost, the situation takes a turn for the worse.

Word count: 17k+ (I'm sorry in advance)

genre: heavy angst with happy ending

warnings: heavy angst, swearing, reader is a motherly figure to Megumi but their relationship is a bit strained, mentions of depression and self-doubt, reader is a sorcerer, fighting, insecurity, arguments, and breakups (?), descriptions of gore, mentions of sexual intercourse (mdni), depictions of a complicated and untraditional relationship, reader gets hurt, hardly edited/proofread (oops), gojo is fed up and mean :(

a/n: this is the first and longest thing I've ever posted on here lol. I felt like there was a lack of sorcerer!reader, so I played around with that concept a little bit. other than potentially shitty writing (sorry for any typos or grammatical errors), I truly hope you enjoy <3

sequel & blurbs

“Get out.”

The hash sentiment lingers, hanging heavily in the air.

“Well, hello to you too.”

He hears your feet shuffle across the floor as you stumble to take your shoes and coat off. “I just came to check on you.”

“And I’m fine,” he responds without moving, one arm up, draping over his aching eyes. He lies on the living room couch, one lanky leg propped up at an angle.

“You’re clearly not fine,” you respond, seeming unphased. “Have you eaten anything?” You ask, waiting for a response that never comes. “Okay, I’ll make your favorite ramen.”

He feels the side of the couch dip, your hand settling on his chest. Your fingers were greedy like you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with the fabric or caressing his taut muscles. Your voice is gentler when you speak this time. “Do you want an ice pack? Some tea?”

You two have done this dance before. You come home to find him exhausted, overworked with a migraine that could tranquilize an elephant. And just like always, you carefully slip his shoes off and unbutton the sleek black jacket to his uniform. It’s hard for him to stay mad about anything when you’re this kind, this caring.

“Satoru, please say something.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Your voice was so gentle. So sweet, saccharine, and so fucking patient. A voice you only ever reserved for him and for his ears only. A gentle whisper carried in a gentle breeze. It was his favorite sound.

But not tonight.

So you try something else. Sweet kisses along the corner of his lips. You’re even bold enough to move his arm, the arm he was using to desperately block out any light or simulation. You kiss his eyelids, his forehead, and cheeks—feather-light. Your hand slides up his chest before reaching his face. You caress your thumb under his closed eyes, and your other hand finds his hair, gently massaging his temple. He has all of you. Every bit.

“Let me take care of you.” If it were any other night, your breath fanning his neck would have shattered him; goosebumps would have wrecked his body, he’d shiver, and everything in him would ease, and all of his stress would slip away into nothingness. He never had to be the strongest with you. You would render him down to nothing but a simple man with just a few words. “You don’t look too good, honey. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” For a woman so strong in your own right, a woman of unyielding dignity and poise and unwavering determination to succeed, this is his favorite side of you.

But not tonight.

When his hand clasps your wrist, he feels your whole body freeze against his. Maybe you were surprised. Maybe you predicted this and were preparing yourself but-

The tongue-lashing dies in his throat when he opens his eyes. Just a peak to your face makes him falter. You were pouting. Worried. “I’m fine.” it’s harsher than you deserve but kinder than the thoughts swirling through his head a second ago.

He’s agitated. Stuck in the same old system that continues to fuck him over—his students over.

And yet, you just looked too beautiful.

You pull away, finally taking the hint. Then, you stand, fully removing yourself from him and stepping away. Your body heat quickly disappears from where you once sat, and he quivers. The room was quiet once again.

The room remained quiet even as you placed a hot bowl of ramen on the table beside him, a glass of water, and two pills.

You slept alone that night.

You remember when you first met Megumi.

“Who the hell are you?”

You never would have expected that to be the the words from a child you had just met. You raised a brow. “Well, aren’t you a fucking, brat?”

You were different back then—colder, angrier. You were similar in that sense.

Oddly enough, maybe that’s what gravitated him to you.

You’re not sure when it happened, but gradually, the harsh edges of you began to… change. Not entirely softened, as thorns remained, but you bloomed, red petals and all. You grew softer, kinder, more patient—and finally—your heart had made space for others. The fear of loss remained, but you had never cared for someone so fragile. No one had ever cried for you, reached for you with small chubby fingers, or depended on you as he once had. You never had someone in your life that needed to be nurtured, protected, and guided.

He was just a boy.

Over time, you realized that if you remained unchanged, perhaps he would never grow into the man he needed to be. You’re not sure why he picked you, why he looked up to you of all people, but he did. He found comfort in you and followed you like a little duckling with a little waddle and permanent scowl.

There wasn't a rhyme or reason. He chose you, and you chose him.

Soon enough, you were waking him up for school, running your hands through his messy, dark locks. You were making him bento boxes, running to parent-teacher conferences, and having hard but meaningful conversations with him in his room about his troubling behavior.

Then you were hugging him as he cried, as he revealed the same dark thoughts you once had about yourself.

You wished this world wasn’t so cruel, so dark. You hope that in a different life, he would have grown into a normal kid, with hopes and dreams and a list of things he wanted to do and go out and experience. You didn’t want him to be shackled to a world that’s left you so scarred.

You fought for any sense of normality you could give him. If that meant confronting the higher-ups, so be it. At times, you even confronted Satoru.

He was just a boy.

Fire never harmed you; it never dared to scorch your skin. You commanded and held domination over nearly every flicker of heat. He was so small when you met him; you remember the first time you saw his small form shiver in the cold. It made you anxious. Despite buying him the heaviest winter coat you could find, you were beside yourself, always wondering—is he warm enough?

But, long were the days of you bundling him up in his jacket, tying his shoes, and tugging beanies over his dark hair and red ears. Long were the days of you clasping his little hands in yours to bring them warmth when the air grew too bitter. He grew older, smarter, wiser, and stronger. The boy that used to cling to your skirt after a hard day at school now stood inches taller than you.

You knew that one day he’d leave you, and you were okay with that. Seeing him so ready for the world made you happy. You worried—of course you still worried—but you were so proud. He was hesitant, unsure at times, and sometimes even looked back to you for assurance.

You were always there, smiling, ushering him along.

You can do it. I believe in you.

You grew up together, you think. Sometimes, you wondered if he ever paid for your shortcomings, or if he remembered your failures as a caregiver, but just like you did him, he’d assure you with a soft nudge and a gentle smile.

He knows you did the best you could with what you had.

He was just a boy.

Your boy.

He wasn’t yours, but you loved him like he was. Only as he grew did you realize the lines you had crossed.

He doesn’t remember his mother, but you’re sure he remembered her smile, perhaps her touch, or the sound of her laughter. You never meant to impose on her memory.

When it happened, he had just gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu High, and Satoru took him on his first official mission. You no longer had the means of pushing this off; you couldn’t beg Satoru or the higher-ups for another month, another week, another day. Megumi wasn’t a normal kid. He was a sorcerer and needed to start fulfilling his duties and mastering his technique.

“You can’t avoid the inevitable. You can’t protect him forever,” Satoru had once told you.

You knew he was right.

You stayed home that day, anxious and worried, but you knew Megumi would be alright. Satoru was with him. Even if the tall man was a bit harder on Megumi than you, you knew he’d keep him safe.

However, your worst fears came to fruition. Megumi wasn’t the same after that mission.

You remember. Satoru’s eyes were stern that night while Megumi's eyes never left the floor as he made his way to his room.

You remember thinking—what could I do to make my boys happy again?

After all, they were your everything, the reason you stood here now with a full heart. Things were newer for you and Satoru then, but he kissed you that night, warm, large hands gently holding your cheeks. He missed you a little bit extra that day. You were nervous, hesitant to fall into the sanctuary of his embrace, but it was only a matter of time until you were fully, devotedly his.

“Are you okay?” You had asked, only for him to nod his head.

“Yeah. Of course, I am, angel. Megumi is shaken up, but he’ll be alright too.”

You made Megumi’s favorite dinner that night—the same beefsteak he’s raved about since he was only six. Well, he never raved, but you perfectly remember the first time you made it, which happened to be the first time he tried it. He could barely get his chin over the table to scope his food into his mouth. He wasn’t good with chopsticks yet, so he used a little fork, which he held in his tiny fist. His little eyebrows raised before dipping down, creasing at the inner corners as he concentrated on the flavor. He murmured it’s good, and you remember being so proud of yourself. That was one of the first times you felt that you were doing something right by him. You made the same dish on occasion, and time only helped you perfect the recipe.

Megumi never came out of his room that night. The lights were off when you knocked. Even after hearing no response, you had cracked open the door, poking your head inside.

“Gumiii,” you stepped into his room. He was on his bed, groaning as you flicked the light on. He turned his back to you. “I made your favoriteee.”

You had sat on the edge of his bed, a hot plate of food in your hands. “C’mon, it’s the beefsteak you like. Nice and warm.”

“‘m not hungry,” he had grumbled.

You sighed. “The mission must have been unpleasant.” He remained still. “I’m sorry, Gumi. Satoru said you did well! I’m proud of you—” he flinched from your touch, snapping his arm away from your reach. You froze, having felt the coldness of his rejection. “If you don’t want to talk about the mission, how was your first day at your new school?” You asked. “Do you have any classmates you like?”

“Just quit it already…” he had murmured. “I’m not in the mood.”

Your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. My first mission was tough too, and you already know I wasn’t great at making friends either–” you winced, biting your tongue. This was coming out all wrong. “… are you okay, Megumi?”

“I’m fine!” He clipped, pushing himself upright in bed. “Just leave me alone and stop acting like you’re my mom already!”

You remembered—and just the memory of that night shambled your heart. You could never forget the hurt those words caused and how you couldn’t show it.

You had smiled wearily. Then, you placed his dinner on his desk. “…you’re right,” you echoed. “I’m not her, never could be. I’m sorry if I imposed. I never meant to.”

You never spoke of the incident, but you remembered that things were tense between Satoru and Megumi for a short while after that. You told Satoru to drop it, but you had a feeling the poor boy received a tongue-lashing from Satoru. You were never sure, though, and you could never prove it.

You just remembered feeling cracks in the foundation of the home you never knew you had so carefully crafted, brick by brick. Some of the warmth was gone—a warmth you never knew was quite there until it wasn’t.

Little by little, you pulled back. Megumi moved into the student dorms shortly after, and he needed you less and less. You no longer made him bento boxes or his favorite beefsteak. You bit your tongue with the lectures: Megumi, that’s not nice, or Megumi, you need to have more faith in yourself. You can do it.

Though the bitter bite of cold never entirely touched you, heated by an unquenchable fame, you pulled back your hand when you reached for him. He left you seared—burned.

You still worried. You never knew if you were giving him too much or not enough. So, you left most of the mentoring to Satoru now. It’s been a few months since the incident, and now you only ever speak to him if he approached you first.

That's why you were happy when you spotted him in town. You offered him a small, shy wave. He unexpectedly approached you and asked how you were and what you’d been up to. However, the most unexpected part was when he asked if you were busy. You shook your head, and it was impossible to hide you beam when he offered to get you hot chocolate from the same coffee shop you used to take him to after school in the colder months.

However, it seemed you weren’t the only one confused by Satoru’s recent behavior.

“Huh?”

“Gojo didn’t want me going on my mission,” Megumi reiterated.

You blink a few times, tapping your fingers against the styrofoam cup in your hands. “Huh. He’s never done that before.”

“He doesn’t think I’m ready. He took the mission himself.”

“He said that? That he doesn’t think you’re ready?”

“Well… not exactly.” He scowls slightly, looking down at the cup of hot chocolate. “But he damn well implied it.”

“Gumi,” you frown at the boy. He doesn’t make eye contact with you; he looks forward now, gazing out the window and watching the fresh snow coat the ground.

He was upset.

“He could’ve at least taken me with him.”

For a moment, you see that same little boy you met over ten years ago and that same dejected look on his face after being let down one too many times. It breaks your heart.

“If Satoru took the mission and went alone, I’m sure it’s for a good reason.”

He wants to say more but opts for something quick and sweet. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You have to do something. Quick. Anything to make him a bit happier. “I have a mission later in Osaka. I’ll be catching the 2 pm train. Wanna come? I could use the extra help.”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, you presume, but he nods. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Great! And just so you know, we’ll probably be dealing with a grade one or two.”

He pauses momentarily before calmly asking, “And you need help with that?”

“Uh, yeah. Any help is much appreciated. Plus, I haven’t seen you much recently.” You smile brightly, and he turns his head, eyes finding the ground, looking a little bashful.

“About that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off. “You’ve been busy with school, and I know that.”

“But that’s not–”

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you smile again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and gently squeeze his hand. “I get it.”

He gives you a look, a small disgruntled scowl. He wanted to say more.

“Alrighty then.” You stand, stretching from sitting in the chair. “I’ll buy you another hot chocolate for the road. We should probably start getting ready to leave.”

The mission goes well. An abandoned warehouse in Osaka conjured up a nasty looking grade three, but Megumi held his own just fine—like you expected. He’s grown much stronger and more sure of himself. You’re proud. Seeing how far he’s come certainly puts a smile on your face. He’s not a little boy anymore, you realized. He’s growing into a fine young man.

Urg. Stop getting emotional.

However, after stopping for a later dinner, you both arrived home late, around nine or so.

“You did good tonight, Megumi,” you tell him for the nth time.

He rolls his eyes, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. “You’ve told me that already.”

“I know, I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of you. You’re getting so much stronger.”

Instead of brushing you off like all the other times, he sighs before offering a forced “thanks.”

“Alrighty then. Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you and the others sometime tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Get back home safe.”

You nod, smiling. You make sure to watch him as he goes, making sure he gets inside before turning around. He’s capable of taking care of himself, but some habits never grow old. Making sure he gets inside anywhere safely has always been something you’ve prioritized, whether he was going to a friend's house, school, or boarding the train.

You loved him like your own, but you knew he wasn't. After all, it was only a few months ago now that he reminded you that he wasn't yours.

You’re not my mom.

It hurt—it still does—but you never held it against him. You still loved him nevertheless. Your relationship might have shifted but it doesn’t negate the fact that you care for him and would gladly give your life if it meant keeping him safe.

Then, there was Kugisaki and Itadori—two others slowly weaseling their way into your heart. They’ve helped Megumi so much; he might be too proud to admit it, but they’ve helped him come out of his shell; they were his friends, and you knew they had each other backs.

You sigh, a translucent cloud of white floating up and above your head. Just like always, your thoughts shift to blue eyes. Satoru. You’ve missed him today. No calls or obnoxious spam texts. It’s not unusual per se, especially when he gets busy. Regardless, you missed him.

But, something is bothering you. He wasn't communicating with you and he usually tells you these things. Even if he didn't have the time to tell you something right away, he'd eventually find a moment to talk to you. This time around, he didn’t. He didn't tell you he was leaving or about the whole ordeal with Megumi.

He just got up and left. You woke to a cold bed and an empty house. No text message, no note with a silly doodle. When you called him in the morning, it went right to voicemail. Eventually, when you pull up your shared text messages to check for anything new, you only saw the message you sent him from the day before. At a loss, you type out a quick message. You didn't think it would make things better, but at least it was something.

I hope you have a good day today :)

It was all you could really muster up after last night. He seemed so agitated, and so fed up. You blamed it on stress; he isn’t usually like that. Usually, his touch was careful, calculated as if you were fixed of glass. You missed his lame jokes and mischievous grins when he was up to no good. You weren't offered any of that last night. Or the night before. Even the night before that.

You’re starting to worry.

He always bounces back so quickly. The only thing that typically gets him this mad are the higher-ups. Which, in Megumi's case, makes sense. You can see why Gojo would intervene if they gave him a dangerous mission.

But why didn’t he take Megumi with him, at least?

Hm.. maybe it was beyond Megumi's skill set. Would the elders be stupid enough to set him up? They did it to you long ago, but they wouldn’t be bold enough to do it to the boy with the ten shadows technique, would they?

Or maybe Satoru… just doesn’t want to be near you?

Urg. You roll your eyes at your own selfish thoughts. Satoru wouldn’t do something like that. He’s already overworked as it is. Maybe you should make him something. A nice dinner? Or maybe he needed a pick-me-up? Kikufuku? You’re sure you could find the recipe online.

You're torn, so you decide to make both. Maybe you'll even put on a nice dress.

You decide to call him, and after a few rings, he answers. “Hey, honey,” you say sweetly, happy he even bothered to answer your call. "I was wondering when you’d be home tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner.”

He’s quiet again—too quiet. “Dinner? Tonight?”

“Yeah, you’ve been so busy lately. I figured you’d like that.”

He hums into the phone, sounding a bit lighter. “Dinner does sound nice…”

Your smile widens. You could hear the underlying stress in his tone; it was flatter than usual, but at least he was trying. “... I’ll even put on your favorite dress?”

He chuckles a bit. “Tempting, but I’ll probably have to leave after dinner.”

“Oh,” you murmur, wincing slightly at the rejection. Maybe you’ve gotten too spoiled—too accustomed to him pushing off his responsibilities all for the sake of spending a few more moments with you. Were you being too greedy? “Are you okay? They’re not stretching you too thin, are they?”

He sighs in a carefree tone. “I'm doing fine. Same old thing, just a different day,” is all he offers, but you can tell he’s withholding.

“I can help, y’know,” you offer gently. “If you have too many missions, I can take a few off your plate.”

“Nah,” he tells you a bit arrogantly. “It’s better if I handle it.”

Now you’re really starting to feel the distance. He usually reserves the softer parts of him for you. You suppose he just didn’t have the patience to do so right now. “You, uh, got into it with the higher-ups I heard,” you mention, trying to keep the conversation going but approaching from a different angle. “Megumi was telling me you even took his mission. I think he was a bit upset you didn’t take him with you. How come you never told me?”

“How come you never told me you were going to Osaka? Or the fact that you took him with you?”

Your stomach twists, unease bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like where this was heading. “I– it’s never bothered you before,” you manage, though your voice falters, dying down into nothing but a whisper. “And it’s not like you’ve been… wanting to speak to me recently. I haven't had the time to tell you much of anything," your trail off, your voice slowly fading before you begin again. "Did I do something to make you mad?”

The silence that follows is unbearable—longer than you ever imagined it could be. “Satoru… Please just talk to me.”

“I gotta go,” his tone is cold, clipped, and final.

There’s a click as he hangs up, and the silence becomes deafening and threateningly absolute.

You realize you miss the way he used to look at you. Not the way he'd gaze at you, but in the way he would gaze into you, as though you were ever the only thing that ever really mattered.

After your last conversation with him, you were unsteady. You hated how you stayed in bed for hours, analyzing everything he's said to you recently, dissecting his every action. You hated how needy you suddenly felt, even while laying there, in his bed, in his clothes. He paused just a second too long before answering you now, as if he had to must up the courage and energy to do so. His laugh no longer came out easily. Others might miss it, but you never could. It was still rambunctious, taking up a whole room, but to you, it felt forced, brittle even. You've known Satoru at his best, and you've also known him at his worst.

When he looks at you now, you wonder if he's really seeing you. Painfully, you realize you haven't seen him; not without his eyeband on at least. Last night you did, for the first time in a while, but he seemed agitated.

The worst part was that you didn't know how to bring yourself to confront him. You struggled, unsure which pretty words and cadence would unluck the distance between you two.

Did something happen on one of his missions? Was he stressed? Had the higher-ups pushed him too far, testing his patience?

Or was it you? Was this somehow your fault?

Did you scare him away? Have you said too much, cared too deeply, loved too loudly?

You weren't sure, but you had to try something.

You were grateful you were cooking him dinner tonight on your day off. It was the least you could do, and you adored taking care of him. You choose hot pot, something you and Satoru have tried at home before. It took over a few hours to prepare, but it was worth it. You made two broths, you sliced up shabu-shabu and wagyu beef and even went to the extent of watching a video to make a dipping sauce. Unfortunately, you forgot one of the ingredients for the kikufuku mochi and didn’t want to risk making something he didn’t entirely like. Luckily, you had spare time to run down to the kikufuku store right before it closed. Of course, you grabbed all his favorite, two boxfuls, in fact. He was a big guy, so you hoped you had more than enough food for him to indulge.

You and Satoru were together. Though he never outright asked you to be his, you knew. It was an unspoken thing, and you were content with that. For as goofy and eccentric as that man could be, it was rather surprising how he was never outright with what he was actually feeling.

He was damn good at showing it, though. In more ways than one.

You feel it in the way he’d always reach for you after a nightmare. Shaking, needy hands tightly clasping at your waste, fearful of you disappearing and slipping to a place where he could not reach you. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow. Please. His face would nuzzle into your neck, sharply inhaling your scent. You’d hold him, whispering endless promises. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Or it's okay. Breathe, my love. I’m with you.

You feel it on the nights he’d pin you beneath him, his grunts and moans echoing in your ears as he fills you so completely. He’d beg, no demand you—tell me you’re mine. Only mine.

And, of course, you’d eagerly nod, overwhelmed with the pleasure only he could strum out of you so perfectly. ‘m yours. All of me—yours.

You feel it in his protective gaze, his eagerness to hold you in the life vest of his arms. You felt it late into the night, damp bodies pressed against one another; low lighting, quiet laughter, and secrets revealed. His dreams, his wishes, his what ifs—the parts of him that no one knew or considered. Or when he handed you a silver key with a handsome and cheshire grin. What do you say? He was lovely, every bit of him, especially his gentle and selfless heart that you would never take for granted like the rest of the world seemed to.

You feel it when he comes home from overseas and how his strong arms hold onto you just a bit longer, a bit tighter. You feel it with how he smiles into your neck or that one time at the airport when he lifted you up and spun you around, uncaring who saw.

You feel it in the way that it was unspoken. You feel it in his cursed energy and how it perfectly intertwined with yours, reaching for you, comforting you when his hands could not. You especially feel it in the necklace he gifted you—the one your fingers were playing with now: a silver chain with cerulean sapphires, the same breathtaking shade of his eyes. His cursed energy, carefully imbued into the stones, was like carrying a piece of him with you—always, wherever you may go, and it rests directly above your beating heart.

He might not voice it, but you feel it. He loved you. And you certainly loved him.

So when had it become so hard to reach him? Why does he seem so intangible all of a sudden? Something deep and unsettling blooms in your stomach.

And now that you think about it…

When was the last time you two did any of that? When was the last time his careful hands caressed you?

Only Satoru could make you this worried or make you feel this displaced. A sense of panic strikes you, and you pull out your phone to text him when you realize he’s thirty minutes late. Usually, that wouldn’t bother you, but–

After only three rings, you're sent to voicemail. When you check his location, he’s at the high school. Should you check on him? Or would that make him… mad?

He toru! Dinners ready. When do you think you’ll be home? Miss you.

You bite your lip. He quickly read your message, but those three little bubbles never show up.

Nothing. Just nothing.

Maybe he’s staying up late writing the report for his latest mission?

“eek!” Your phone pings, and after a round of hot potato, you see he’s texted you back.

Only to be met with more disappointment.

Dealing with something urgent. Don’t wait up.

You frown, knowing you should drop it, but you can’t.

Satoru…

He’s typing faster now. What?

You pause, thumbs hovering over letters you hesitate to type. What’s going on? You’ve been off lately.

I’m fine. Just busy.

Do you want me to bring you dinner to the High School?

Those three bubbles appear and disappear more times than you can count. No. I said don’t wait up.

You know I don't sleep well without you.

He responds in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Your patience is wearing thin for the first time since this ordeal started. Are you saying you won’t be coming home tonight?

You’re offered no response. He doesn’t even open your message. For the second night, you lay in a cold bed. Except, Satoru doesn’t come home.

Only he could fracture you so completely.

During your next mission, you brought the whole trio along. According to the report you were handed, you were only dealing with a grade three, but there was also an Infestation in the area. You could use the backup.

You had initially asked Megumi, but once Yuji caught wind, he was adamant that he tagged along, and, according to Nobara she had nothing else better to do.

“Are you guys sure? It’s your day off.”

Yuji shrugs, both arms up, hands up and behind his head. “Yeah, I’m game.”

“Me too,” Nobara voices with a small glint in her eyes. “I got something new I want to try out anyway. We didn’t get to go on a mission last week as it is.”

You paused. "Huh? Gojo didn’t take you on any?”

“Nah,” Yuji shakes his head. “I think he’s been busy or something.” He looks at Kugisaki. “Hasn’t Gojo-Sensei seemed a little… off?”

Nobara nods. “Uh yeah. He hasn’t been himself at all. We figured you’d know something,” Nobara says, curious eyes scanning you.

“Huh… I’m not sure. We haven’t gotten around to talking lately.”

Megumi hums, though it sounds more suspicious than his usual passive tone.

Though they weren’t necessarily your students, you figured there was no harm in taking them. You've done it before and having them around was always like a breath of fresh air—reminding you of why Satoru dedicates himself so fully to his cause and being a teacher. They give you a reason to get stronger and keep fighting. You loved these kids and all their bickering.

Except, this mission doesn’t go anything like you had expected. The report was wrong—a grade two was ambling through the abandoned schoolhouse. That was fine; the four of you were more than enough to kill it. The infestation was a bit overwhelming, but you had their backs, and they were nothing but pesky small curses lower than a grade four.

Everything went well when the ambush happens. You all saw it: right in front of your eyes, a grade one emerging from the shadows, born into something nasty. It's skin oozed a sickly black slime that clung to its misshapen body. Its face—or lack there of—was dark and amorphous, split by a jagged maw that stretched impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp serrated teeth, ready to cut and slash through flesh like a meat grinder. Other that is daunting appearance, the only other notable thing about it was its speed.

You told the kids to back down, but it was already too late. They were already involved, stuck in the heat of battle and fighting as a seamless unite. They were more than capable of standing on their own.

But you needed them out of here. Your obligation was to protect them no matter how eager they were to help. However, before you could think of your next move, the curse made one last self-preserving attack. It opened in wide jaws, releasing several red beamed energy blast aimed directly at stone pillars.

You had no time to think, only react. In an instant, you surged forward towards the trio, faster than their eyes could react. Grunting, you knocked them back, glass shattering as you kicked them through a window. You felt the impact ripple through your body, fully knowing you knocked the wind out of Megumi and Yuji. However, they recovered quickly, their instincts sharp enough to catch Nobara–

Right in time before the building collapsed.

The building groaned like a wounded beast, its entire frame buckling from lack of support. Stone walls crumbled into clouds of dust and debris, windows shattered in explosive bursts, steel beams twisted and snaped with sickening shrieks. The ground trembled violently as the structure gave way, collapsing into a chaotic heap of concrete, rubble, and smoke, swallowing everything beneath. Including you.

You survived. Reinforcing your body with cursed energy made you strong enough to withstand the impact, and your heavenly restriction certainly helped. Nevertheless, you still took on quite a bit of damage from the tons of metal and concrete.

You woke up under the rubble with a startling gasp, choking on the dust. Were you out for a few seconds? Minutes? You were unsure, but the only thing pushing you to stand was the panic coated in Megumi’s voice. He was calling for you, and so were the others. You could hear the strain in their voices, the utter distraught. You healed your broken leg and the gash on the corner of your forehead, ceasing your gushing blood. You gathered yourself and your strength before pushing. They found you quickly after that, noticing a heap of rubble moving. They ran, rushing to help you push back concrete that threatened to suffocate you. You never did like tight spaces.

Thankfully, you were alright. The kids were safe as well.

However, the curse had escaped. Megumi was visibly shaken, his fingernail cracked, bruised, and bleeding from digging urgently through the rubble to find you.

Everyone was on edge. It wasn't their fault you didn't react quickly enough. You were more than capable; maybe that's why the failure stung so much.

You let yourself down. You let them down.

You were spiraling into a dark place quickly. The guilt threatened to swallow you whole. Gojo was still nowhere to be seen. You didn't have the strength to call him. You’re not sure what you could even say. You’ve fucked up before, but never to this extent. Not to where a whole building collapsed.

“Good morning. A tragic incident occurred last night when an abandoned school collapsed around 7 pm. Authorities are currently investigating the cause, and preliminary reports suggest that the collapse could have been due to a structural weakness—one of the many reasons why the school was abandoned in the first place. We will continue to monitor the situation as more information becomes available–"

Megumi gently grabs your phone and locks your screen. Wordlessly, he shakes his head before pocketing your device. You’re too exhausted to ask for it back.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sensei?” Yuji's voice was soft, the first voice to break the ice. You look up from your hands, unsure how long you’ve been lost in thought. You force a small smile as you gaze at the three kids. You were sitting across from them in the waiting area outside the council room.

“I’m alright. Are you guys?"

“We’re all fine,” Megumi cuts in quickly. “We’re– we’re more than okay.”

“That's good,” you trail off. “That's really good.”

Uncertainty hung dangerously in the air. What happened now? You were okay, but for how long?

You knew you were in for a lashing with all the collateral damage you caused. It was supposed to be a simple mission. This wasn't supposed to happen. You four were fine, but did anyone else get hurt?

You flinch at your own thought. You don't think you could live with yourself if innocent lives were lost.

“Sensei?” Yuji's soft, unsure voice cuts in once more. When your eyes make contact, he smiles brightly. You can tell it’s forced. “After this, wanna go get something to eat? There’s this great sandwich shop down the street!”

“Y–yeah!” Nobara sits up straight after being less than conspicuously nudged by Yuji. “It’s pretty good. We went the other day–”

The council room door creaked open. The higher-ups were waiting, shrouded in shadows and faces hidden. Even if you couldn't see them, the tension was palpable. Even without seeing them directly, you could sense their anger, smell it as it rolled off of them in a quiet, unspoken fury. You glance at the kids once more, this time with a gentle, reassuring smile curling at your lips.

Everything would be okay.

Everything was, in fact, not okay.

The air was heavy as you entered your office. Your limbs ached, your head throbbed, and every breath felt like dragging glass through your lungs. You had thought the worst of it was over, and slowly, you felt your body begin to shut down, but only when there were no prying eyes to see how you compensated for your injuries. Even after using RCT, you had a limp—your bones were mended but not quite right. Your head was no longer bleeding—but still, you weren't quite right.

You dismiss it as exhaustion; after all, you had just learned RCT not too long ago. Maybe you missed something. However, this wasn’t anything you couldn't handle on your own. You could see Shoko, but why bother her? You’ve endured far worse. Dealing with a sore body and a headache for the next few days wasn’t out of your jurisdiction.

When you open the door, a flickering lamplight reveals a tall frame standing by your desk. Even before your eyes dance upon his sharp and still silhouette, the air shifts—your soul already knows he is there. Satoru.

But, his eyes never meet yours; you weren’t blessed enough to see them, a bright blue illuminating in the absence of light. His eyes were covered with a familiar dark cloth. However, you didn’t need to see them to know that the usual warmth they held as he gazed upon you was gone. In its place was a coldness that turned your stomach.

“Satoru–”

“I know,” he says, voice clipped as he turns to face you. “I read the reports.” Your heart sinks as he haphazardly tosses the report down to your desk.

You’re exhausted, unsure of where to even begin. So many questions floated in your weary mind. Where were you? When did you get here? Please, don’t be mad at me.

It’s funny how all your dignity, poise, and strength to endure are gone with him. You already took one berating from the elders, and you’re not sure you could handle another.

Not from him.

“But, I want to hear it from you.” He stepped closer, his height making him all the more domineering. “What happened out there? And how the hell are my students caught up in all of this?”

“The report was wrong. It was a grade two, not three, but we handled that just fine. We cleared out the area and completed the mission, but we were ambushed. A grade one appeared, destroyed the pillars, and–” You hesitate, unable to form the words. “Well, you know what happened.” He’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. “I–I did everything I could, Satoru. The students were fine, but the curse got away.”

“Everything you could?" His voice echoes. "I don’t need excuses. Certainly not from you. You endangered them—all of them. They’re not even your students!” He snapped, his voice rising in a way you’ve never heard before.

You bite back the lump forming in your throat. “I thought you, out of anyone, would understand the circumstances.”

“...Understand?” He utters back, a quiet fury rolling off him in waves.

“I made sure that–”

“You failed,” he snaps, voice laced with malice. “Enough. Just stop it. You were reckless and went behind my back, and you let a pathetic grade one get the best of you.”

Your chest tightened, crumbling at the weight of his tone. “Went behind your back? I did no such thing.”

“They could have been hurt because of you!” You visibly flinch, his words carrying more weight than the debris that had buried you—broken bones and all.

“I’m recommending you be demoted to grade two.”

What?

“You can’t do that. Satoru, you can’t–”

“I can,” he said coldly. “and I will. You failed, and not only did you fail, you went behind my back and involved my students. Your recklessness caused this,” disdain coats his voice, and he sucks his teeth. “I was gone for two fucking seconds, and you damn near ruined everything. People could have died. My students could have been injured. So stop being a nuisance and just do as you're told from here on out.”

No.

No, no, no, no.

You fought for years to get to grade one. A woman with a name of no renown—this society was never in favor of you; the system was set up for you only to fail time and time again. For years, you were held at grade three, then grade two, all because of your name’s sake—all because you were a woman. You didn’t have the luxury of being as good as other sorcerers; you had the burden to be better.

Even now, at grade one, they continue to undermine you and undervalue you. You knew you didn’t have room to make mistakes, for they would tarnish every bit of good you have done. You thought Satoru understood that. You thought he viewed you as an equal, someone strong enough to stand by him. You thought he valued you, respected you.

You never thought a mistake, a stupid mistake, would lead to this.

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

“This has nothing to do with my rank. You don’t believe me. You don't trust me. After everything–”

Hearing his scornful laugh, your vision begins to blur. “Don’t make this personal. You fucked up, and now I have to clean up your mess.”

Your ears begin ringing. The pounding in your head becomes too much and threatens to crack your skull open once more.

“But it is, isn’t it?” You whisper. How could it not be personal with how he's been treating you for days? “You haven't been able to look at me in weeks. You speak to me as if I’ve become nothing but a burden to you—a nuisance. What did I do to deserve this?”

He remains silent, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he grits his teeth. Point proven.

Your heart painfully twists with each beat. “Do you even… care about me anymore?” You’re not sure why you say it, why the words slip past your lips, but they do.

He read the report and he hadn't even asked if you were okay. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but it makes your chest ache. You just wanted to go home, crawl in bed and hold him. However, you knew that wasn't in the cards right now.

“Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

Your voice finally wavers before him, cracking as you press on, desperate for him to understand—desperate to have him by your side as he has been for so many years.

“You’re casting me aside like I’m... worthless."

It was cruelty, a quiet and deafening insult for him to demote you of your status—but more specifically, your place beside him. That hurt runs deep, to the point that feelings of betrayal start seeping into your veins, poisoning you, antagonizing you. Belittling you. It was a sharp dagger you never expected—searing with a hatred that threatened to cripple you. This wasn’t just about your position. He was a man of unchallenged stature, of the highest status and regard, lowering you, demeaning you with his every word, every action.

When did things go so wrong?

Yet, even now, you question yourself. Were you being dramatic? Were you taking this too personally? Were you being selfish?

Because he was right. Every word he's said so far was right. You failed. You put them in danger.

You stand there, a hollow feeling growing in your chest. The sting of Satoru’s words cut deeper than any blade you’ve faced. His jaw tightened, his gaze hard as steel and cold as ice. “You gave me what I never asked for.”

“Don't you dare!” You snap, finger trembling as you point his way with an accusatory jab. “Don’t you dare pretend this is nothing. You know me better than anyone. How could I not take this personally? I’ve done nothing but stand by you, love you, trust you–”

“Like I said, I never asked for any of that,” he utters sharply, his carefully composed exterior shattering. “Whatever we were was nothing more than fucking convenience.”

Suddenly, he stops, freezing at the onslaught of his own lethal words. His next words seemed to die in his throat. The damage was done.

Exhausted, defeated, numb. His words hit you like a death blow. “... Convenience?” Echoing the very word that came from his lips—a sound you hardly recognize comes from your mouth, a small slip of the anguish tormenting and swelling in your body escapes.

The necklace around your neck, the very one he had given you, seemed to pulse against your skin, warm and alive. It carried a piece of him, a piece of you, a guiding hand in the absence of light: a thread, an anchor—a way home.

Suddenly, you hated it. Hated the way it sat so close to your heart, hated the warmth, his energy; you hated that, even now, his words cutting so deep, unraveling the fabric of your being, it comforted you, reaching for you.

You yanked it off, the chain snapping in two as you held it in your trembling hands.

He falters, his whole being frozen. “What are you doing?” he asked, quiet and tense, blanketed in uncertainty.

“I don’t want it,” you say, voice quivering, threatening to fail you at any moment. His energy—the only energy that blended so perfectly with yours—reached for you, and so did his trembling hands. Reflexively, you flinched away, retreating further into the room and further from him. “Don’t,” you shake your head. “Don’t touch me. Not with your hands, not with your energy. Don’t.”

Silent tears stream down your face. You are unable to look at him, and your breathing is shallow and unsteady. You open your hand, letting the necklace drop to the floor. The faint sound of metal hitting wood echoes in the suffocating silence of the room.

There’s a soft knock on the door. It creaks, slightly opening. “... Y/n sensei?” came an unsure voice.

You stiffen, and suddenly, you can sense them, three nervous students standing outside your door. Too caught up with Satoru, you had entirely missed them. You clear your throat and dry your cheeks with the back of your hand before turning to the door. You walk over, opening the door wide enough to see them.

“Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we just wanted to know if you still wanted to come out for dinner with us...”

Fuck. How much did they hear?

You take a breath, and it’s shakier than you anticipated. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. Let me grab my jacket, okay.”

Yuji only offers an unsure smile. Norbora has a hard time even looking at you, while Megumis's eyes are solid and unyielding, glaring right past you. His hands were in his pockets, balled into tight fists.

You don’t know what to do other than quickly turning. Within a few ushered strides, you were at your desk, grabbing your coat off your desk chair; you’re careful to avoid Gojo, who manages to plaster on that big fucking grin.

“Heard you guys were up to no good while I was away.”

“We were fine,” Megumi interjects before Yuji could open his mouth. “More than fine.”

“Y–yeah, everything ended up being just fine. Y/n-sensei made sure of that,” Nobara awkwardly adds, shifting her weight on her feet.

“Ah,” Gojo nods. “Well, make sure you get some rest tonight. We’ve got a long day tomorrow! You guys will be training with the second years!”

You hated how he could act as if everything was alright while you were fighting back tears. It was another jab, a suckerpunch to the gut.

You just needed to get out of there.

After dinner with the kids, you headed out on your own the following day. You went home, stuffing some clothes in a bag before spending the night at a cheap motel. Before getting with Satoru, you always floated from place to place, never truly settling. Those days, all you carried on you was your backpack. You didn’t have a home or many possessions you could call your own. You just had yourself.

I guess old habits die hard.

Megumi was the first to text you: I went to Gojo's house today and didn’t see you.

All good! I’ve been busy running errands.

Nobara text you sometime after.

Hey Sensei!! Let me know if you’re available today! Let’s go shopping!

You responded rather quickly. Sorry, I’m not around today. Maybe ask Maki? Or maybe Yuji and Megumi would like to tag along.

But guys suck :(

Then, there was Yuji: Hey, Sensei! Let me know if you want ramen! The gang and I got you since you covered for us the other night! I even got coupons!

You weren’t sure what to say. You always covered for their meals (no exceptions), but you knew they were just trying to be kind. You double-tapped and hearted the message.

You appreciated them more than anything, but frankly, it was a bit embarrassing. You never meant for them to overhear you and Satrou that night in your office, and you were never one for pity. If it were anyone else, you would have called them out and told them off. However, you wouldn’t dream of doing that to the kids. They were trying to support you in the only way they knew how, but it wasn’t their responsibility to worry about you.

Surprisingly, Shoko was the next person to contact you. You never stopped by my office. I’m assuming you’re alright?

Smiling gently, you responded. Yeah, no injuries to report.

A building collapsed on you.

You scoff, imagining her deadpan expression. Heavenly restriction, remember?

That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Yeesh. Just meet me at the bar you like downtown.

That’s where you are now, Shoko’s favorite bar, tossing back your third shot. ”Take it easy. I don’t feel like dragging you home tonight.”

“Ah. I’m alright, Shoko.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Neither do you with those bags under your eyes.”

She brings her drink to her lips, mumbling “touché” before taking a swig. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vivid memories pressed to the front of your mind of the building collapsing. “Satoru is demoting me. After the elders ripped into me, I found him waiting for me in my office.”

“He– what? Jeez,” she took another sip of sake. “Out of everything, I didn’t expect that.”

“I– we haven’t been doing too good. I’m not sure if there even is an us after last night.”

“Huh. He did seem a little out of it today.”

“Somehow, I kinda doubt that.” There’s a beat of silence, and you swirl the liquid in your cup.

“If it means anything, he asked me about you. Asked if you were alright.”

You smile a bit sardonically. If Satoru really wanted to find you, you knew he could, as he had the means to do so. From here, you were only about five miles away from his estate. It’s not like you were too for his eyes to see. Suddenly, that thought bothers you, and you find yourself almost subconsciously concealing your cursed energy.

“Is that why you texted me?”

She gives you a weird look. “Partially. I had my own concerns.”

“Like what?”

“If I’m being honest with you, you’re not great at RCT. I wanted to check and make sure everything was alright. It eventually catches up with you if you don’t do it correctly. I’ve seen it cause irreparable damage before.”

“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”

“You should come to my office tomorrow so I can check–”

“I think I’m gonna quit.”

“…what?”

“I mean, that’s what they really want, right?”

“If you do that, they’ll find the easiest excuse to label you as a traitor. A cursed user.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Since day one, they’ve been trying to paint me as a villain.”

“So don’t give them what they want,” Shoko bites back. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “Listen, I can’t stop you. You are going to do what you want to do at the end of the day, but you don’t need to do this. You made a mistake.”

“I’m just tired,” you tell her truthfully. “For months, I’ve been pretending, going through the motions. I've been miserable. Megumi hasn’t wanted me around much. He’s older now, and he doesn’t need me anymore–”

“Of course he does,” Shoko cuts you off. “He’s still a kid.”

“And I’m not his mother,” you retort bitterly. “Then, there’s Satoru. He’s been so distant. He used to always be in my corner and make everything better, but I don’t even have that now. Now, all of the jujutsu society thinks I’m a liability. He thinks I’m a liability. Maybe it’s why he’s grown to resent me so much.”

“Please. Just stop talking,” Shoko remarks, overwhelmed with how quickly you were talking. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of conversations like these, but at least she listened. “I’m here if you ever need anyone. And please, don’t let this fester. I would rather not lose another friend.” She takes a large gulp this time, finishing her drink before gesturing for a refill. “Tsk. Satoru is complicated—I get it—but he wouldn’t want you to leave. Neither would Megumi. That kid loves you. Maybe you and Gojo just need a break.”

A break? Ha. That was one way of putting it. However, it already felt much more like a breakup, and its permanence frightened you. Like many other things in your relationship, it was never voiced but certainly felt.

“Yeah,” you say softly, body buzzing as you down your fourth shot. “Maybe you’re right.”

You start walking home after having drinks with Shoko. It was a long walk, and you took your time. You weren’t in a rush to head home to potential chaos. The thought of staying at a hotel crossed your mind, but you had nothing to change into. Frankly, it didn’t matter where you went either. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep any better.

Though, it’s not like you were going back home to anything good. You were suspended without pay; you couldn’t go near the school grounds or exercise any curses—a stipulation you rolled your eyes at. If they thought just a few measly words would stop you from exercising a curse, they would be more idiotic than you thought.

Still, maybe it’s good to take some time off. Maybe you should stay at the hotel. If you were lucky, they’d have a washer and dryer.

Then, your phone starts to ring—a unique ringtone that a white-haired idiot assigned to his contact one day after you let him “borrow” your phone. He even changed his contact photo; years later, you never had the heart to change it.

Your heart aches when you see the contact photo of him, his goofy smile and gorgeous eyes peeking over his black shades. You answered hesitantly after a few rings.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy,” you hear, his voice light and cheery yet, lacking its usual spark. “Where are you? I know I missed dinner the other night so I picked up your favorite on my way home!”

Back to normal? Just like that?

You take a breath, reeling in your emotions. It wasn’t normal, per se, but you could tell he was trying, stepping cautiously over the ice he knew could shatter at any moment.

“I’m not home, right now.”

“Huuuh?” You can hear the slight whine in his voice, and you can imagine him pouting like a small child. You expect him to carry on with his theatrics, but he hesitates. “When do you think you’ll be home then?”

“Uh, I don’t really know,” you trail off, unable to keep up his faux mirth and bravado.

“Well, if you don’t want to sleep next to me tonight, I can just take the guest bedroom!” For a moment, he sounds hopeful.

Honestly, he’s just making your head spin.

“Honestly, I think it’s best if I stay out of the house for a little while, Gojo.”

There’s a beat of silence before you hear his nervous laughter. “Gojo?” he remarks dejectedly. “Can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

You were unsure what to say; you hadn’t even realized you initially referred to him by his last name until he pointed it out. You want to tell him sorry—for everything, but your tongue tenses in your mouth, and your throat threatens to close up. You hated it when he got like this, and typically, you’d do anything to make him smile again.

But you’re hurt, and he caused that hurt.

“I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” he adds quickly, unable to withstand your silence.

“What’s there to talk about?” You ask softly. “What done is done. I messed up.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It can’t be undone now. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your stomach drops your heart twists and aches. Was he going to officially end things with you? A bitter, more cruel half of you whispers—you weren’t even officially together to begin with. However, none of that even matters; he has too much of you, too many pieces of your frail heart in the palm of his hands. You were irrevocably his, but was he ever yours?

Just a few weeks ago, you thought you would have an entirely different answer than the one you have now. You're too afraid to face him or the truth. You were guilt-ridden, your pride and dignity torn to shreds. Hearing that he no longer wishes to be with you would be too much.

Honestly?

You’re not sure how you’d react. If you’d sob, if you’d remain stoic, or if you’d flip a table and trash every one of your possessions. You’re at wit's end, and the level of fallout threatening to break free from you was immeasurable.

So, you finalize what you had been contemplating just five minutes ago. “I think I’m going to stay at a hotel, Gojo. I need space. Time to think.”

“I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” he says lowly, his voice reverberating through the phone. You shiver. “It doesn’t feel right.”

You hated this. You fucking hated this.

Your chest tightens, and your knees weaken. You wanted to give in. He always had that power over you. He ruled your heart so effortlessly. You yearned for him, your heart singing a million love songs, beckoning him back to you.

But you couldn’t. You were too mad. You felt cast aside as if you were nothing but an afterthought—after all these years. Yet again, you feel the foundation of your home cracking, and your knees go weak yet again. You take a shuddering breath right before repeating the exact words he threw at you just a few nights prior—words that so effortlessly dismantled your spirit. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

You’ve always had a habit of running. It was easier for you than most. You figured you’d go back to that cheap motel in Tokyo, but you were too restless. Too angry. Feelings of betrayal ran deep, and the guilt nipped away at you until there was only a void.

Before you could leave, though, you call a number you knew by heart. Stepping onto the train and holding your phone to your ear, it rings. For a moment, you assume he’s asleep. It was getting late, but after the fifth ring, the line clicked. A groggy voice peaks through.

“Sensei? What’s going on?”

“Megumi,” you breathe out. “Hi. Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Nozomi 1, departing from Tokyo and heading to Kyoto, will depart shortly. Please be careful of your footing while boarding. Please refrain from using mobile phone inside the train–“

“You’re leaving?” The tiredness in his voice is replaced by something else you can’t quite place.

“Only for a short while. It’s not like I’ll be working anytime soon,” you chuckled nervously. “But I just wanted to let you know. It didn’t feel right leaving without speaking to you first.”

“Oh,” is all he can muster up at first. “I– when will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” you answer him honestly. “A few days, maybe.”

“Well… Can we visit you? I’d go alone, but I think Yuji and Nobara would kill me if I did.”

Oh. You hadn’t expected that. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Um, yeah. When I figure out where I’m staying, I’ll let you know.”

He sounds worried. “You don’t know where you’re staying yet?”

You snicker. “Ha, this is, uh, kinda an impromptu thing.”

“… and you’re sure alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I just wanted to tell you.”

You can tell he’s not exactly satisfied, but he isn’t one to stop you. “Well, text me where you’ll be staying in a few hours. You should probably hang up now, though, and figure it out.”

You smile softly to yourself. He always was a kind boy—kinder than he’d ever reveal. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, Megumi.”

“Night.. I’ll call you later. Be safe.”

When you hang up, you feel a bit better.

The first night was hard—really hard. Sleeping away from Satoru was incredibly difficult, but so were his sharp words that relentlessly bounced around in your mind. You found no peace by your window, watching the last of that day's sunlight slipping away behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the dead trees covered in snow.

You could almost feel his presence, like the cast of your shadow on a wall—following you, mirroring your every move. Your phone never rang with his ringtone, your phone never buzzed with a new text. Yet you stared at the shadows for a bit longer, a bit more intensely, waiting for two blue eyes to illuminate the space. They never did.

Kyoto's stillness seemed to reflect your own, waiting for something to change, waiting for something dead and wilted to bloom once more.

However, even all the way over in Kyoto, bad luck seems to follow you like the plague. You were walking to a small corner market to grab something to eat when you felt the disturbance in the air—tasted it on your tongue. You hoped that surge of cursed energy wasn’t what you thought it was. You would have loved to be proven wrong, but your instincts were keen like a hound trained to hunt.

A curse womb opened right above a Kyoto High school.

You were definitely getting fired after this.

You knew a cursed object was most likely responsible for this. Considering it happened at a school, you were more than willing to bet a strong cursed object was placed there, most likely intended to ward off any other strong curses that might otherwise appear in the area. You assumed the seal broke, probably after hundreds of years of suppressing the power of the object. You’ve dealt with a case like that before.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Three stupid students—ghost hunting of all things—removed the seal. The decorated white cloth tightly wrapped around a black skull was torn, and its viscous cursed energy soared, tinting the sky black.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you hissed under your breath when you slammed open the classroom door. “This way, c’mon!” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Book it, and you stay by their side for as long as you can. You had to put up your veil, but only after they were far enough.

You got impatient, however, especially towards the kid who had been recording everything up until now, where you crushed his phone in your hand.

“Wha– hey! You're gonna pay for that!”

“What the hell is more important? Recording or your fucking lives? Shut up and run!”

The air suddenly cracks with a tension that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s here. You could feel it—the dark, oppressive presence creeping across the courtyard, lurking. You yourself could see it with your eyes, but you felt it.

Your senses were better than most. It was partially why you and Yuji got along and trained together so well. You were just like him when you were younger. Granted, he wasn’t born with cursed energy like you were, but your heavenly restrictions were nearly identical.

You stop running when you reach the edge of the courtyard, but those three kids carry on in a scram. Holding the cursed object in your hands, you raise the skull in the air. It takes a considerable amount of force, but you crush the skull, black dust coating your hand. There’s a hollow screech, and you hope that’s the end of it.

Of course, your bad luck persists.

Typically, destroying the cursed object that’s created a cursed womb kills it or at least nullifies it. The exception is when the curse is an S-grade; those wombs are damn near impenetrable.

Destroying the object seemed only to irritate the curse as it began crawling out of a bloody sac.

You hold up your fist, index, and pointer finger together, pointing to the sky along with your thumb. A crimson veil pours down, covering the entirety of the school. However, you sense three others within your veil just as you seal off the area.

“Yo, Y/n sensei!! What the hell are you doing here, loca!” A deep laugh echoes across the courtyard.

Christ. You knew that voice from anywhere.

You glance over your shoulder and see a few unexpected faces. Utahime and two other students—Miwa and Todo who looks way happier than he should be, considering the circumstances.

The newly born curse loomed menacingly overhead, its red eyes gleaming like coals in a dying fire. It was tall, with protruding joints that snapped into place. Its black and sleek hair extended beyond its long, contorted body. Its face was painted white and cracked as if crafted of aged porcelain. Its kimono was white, stained with splashes of red and black goo. You stood firmly in place, fire crackling at your fingertips, your breath steady but sharp in the cold night air. Todo and Miwa joined your side quickly, and Utahime offered you a firm nod from the sidelines. She was entrusting you with her students.

Quickly, the courtyard became a battlefield, filled with the crackle of burning energy and the hum of raw power.

The curse lunged, zipping through the air. You were faster, your body twisting and moving with fluid grace. You raised your hand to strike, a jet of flame bursting forward, crackling against the air. The curse shrieked as the fire seared its back, black smoke rising from its melted skin.

It recovered too quickly for your liking. It rolled through the flames like water through a sieve, reforming and lunging again, its claws gleaming.

Your senses were on fire—every shift in the air, every sound, every movement was magnified. You could hear the heartbeat of the curse, the faintest tremor of its form as it coiled to strike. You could smell the thick, sour scent of decay that clung to it like an ancient smog. And you could feel it—the deep, heavy weight of power pressing down on you, making your muscles tighten and strain against the oncoming attack.

The curse moved to strike again, but you were already there, rolling beneath it, body twisting in a perfect arc, and feet hitting the ground in a spring-loaded motion that sent you leaping upward. Your fist, wreathed in fire, crashed into the creature’s chest.

The explosion of heat sent the curse reeling, but it was only a momentary distraction. It retaliated, slashing the air with a massive, clawed hand. Three energized strikes were headed your way. You reacted with seconds to spare, but Miwa stood directly in the line of fire. You knew her simple domain wouldn’t be summoned fast enough, but she didn’t. It would be a miscalculation that ended her life.

The claws tore through your side, then whipped down in a sickening arc, ripping clean through your arm. The pain came in an instant—a blinding, searing agony that burned through your body. You didn't even have time to scream.

You staggered back, a cry escaping Miwa’s lips as she looked at the bloody stump where your arm used to be. Blood poured and squirted from the wound, but there was no time for that.

"Get back!" you shouted to the blue-haired girl, voice raw. She wasn’t nearly ready for this; Utahime gravity overestimated her abilities or underestimated the cursed strength. Regardless, the girl was too distraught to do anything at this moment.

There’s a rush, and you suddenly realize you are outside the heat of battle. Todo went in, guns blazing, but you could only waste so much time. Todo was strong, way above his current ranking, in your opinion, but it was only a matter of time before that curse cut him down, too.

Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees. The pain was overwhelming, but you focused, drawing from the reserves settled deep within your core. Your energy surged, and tendrils of fire spiraled around the wound, filling the air with intense heat.

“Sensei! Are you alri–" Miwa gasped, her feet coming to a haunt as she watched in awe and terror as your arm began to regenerate—pulsing with energy. The flesh knitted itself together, bone and sinew reforming in a frenzy.

But the process wasn't easy and certainly didn’t come without a price to pay. Your body screamed, the regeneration draining your reserves. You were already weakened, and the battle had just begun. Tsk.

Todo found his way back over to you two, panting heavily. “How are you doing over there, Sensei?”

"Clap," you say, voice strained. "Now." He looked at you, bug-eyed, but he nodded. He didn't hesitate.

He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and everything shifted. “Alright! Let’s dance!”

In an instant, you found yourself on the other side of the curse. You inhaled deeply, heart pounding, immediately launching yourself back into the fight.

The curse roared in confusion, disoriented, but it was too late. You were already in motion. Your feet hit the ground in a fluid motion, and with a vicious snap of your wrist, fire erupted once again. This time, it formed into a massive whip of flame that lashed through the air.

The curse hissed as the whip wrapped around its neck, and you pulled with your whole body. Never losing your grip, muscles straining, you move forward, wrapping the flames over your arm again and again, pulling tighter and tighter until you smelt the pungent odor of the burning flesh around its neck. You wrapped the whip around your arm one last time before turning your body and pulling the whip from over your shoulder, viscously yanking and slamming the curse to the ground and into submission.

The curse struggled, its body writhing, but it was weakened. Miwa went for the opening, summoning her New Shadow Style: Simple domain. She’s gotten better since the tournament, and you acknowledge with a grave chuckle as she instantly draws her blade, slicing the curse directly across its chest cavity. She cost you an arm, but deep down, you knew she had the conviction to win and succeed.

Todo doesn’t wait. Another clap. Another shift. You and Todo swapped places with the curse itself this time, and the curse had no time to react. He goes for a punch, cracking the curse with a quick jab, followed by a right hook. He claps again. The moment the curse materialized in front of you, disoriented, you surged forward, throwing everything you had left into one final strike.

It twisted in anguish, its body crumbling to the ground before its remains turned into ash.

Then, there was nothing.

The air grew still. The ground beneath you is scorched but calm. You sucked your teeth, silently berating yourself.

You hated using your technique. Frankly, you opted not to unless you absolutely needed to, which was the main reason why people hardly knew about it. It wreaked havoc, leaving nothing but indomitable infernos that refused to be quenched like normal flames. They left nothing destruction in their wake—hungry to consume and spread. However, you’ve gotten better at controlling it—you’ll give yourself that. The only thing burned here today was the grass in the courtyard.

You stood there for a moment, panting, your body trembling with exhaustion as you collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. “Y–you did it!” Miwa cheered. “I had no idea you knew RCT. Thank you for helping me back there.”

“What the– Miwa, we won! Show some conviction!” Todo cut in, flexing his biceps.

“He’s right,” you managed a weak smile as you worked on catching your breath and easing your fast-beating heart. You collapse to the ground, still gaining your breath. "We did it."

You hear footsteps approaching from behind. Tilting your head, you see Utahime standing directly above you.

“Oh. Hi ‘hime.”

She smiles a bit, but her face remains hardened. You straighten up a bit, catching on to her attitude. Something wasn’t right.

“You guys did a good job. However, another problem has arisen across the city.”

“Huh? Another one?” Miwa asked, brows tugging inward. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other. “That's like the fifth one today...”

They continue on in their conversation as you drop your veil, sniff the air, and concentrate on your surroundings. A sense of foreboding strikes you under the dark ambiance of the sky. Even after killing that S-grade, things don’t feel right.

“Thanks for joining us,” Utahime says, drawing back your attention. “I nearly had to call for backup.”

You scoff, glancing up at her from the ground. “Something doesn't feel right, Utahime.” She nods, agreeing with your observation. “When did the reports come flooding in?”

“About an hour ago now.”

“Hm,” you wonder, thinking back to when you first found the cursed womb. “That’s about the same time I first sensed the presence of the cursed womb. They’re most likely connected.”

“That's what I thought. The presence of the cursed womb must have irritated some of the curses in the city, most likely because they were drawn to the energy fluctuations the cursed womb caused. It's good you were here. We're stretched thin right now. If you don’t mind staying, we could use your help. The other students are out on missions across the city, and things just keep getting worse.”

You smile up at her before pushing yourself back up on your two feet, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Sure, let’s get going–” but as you stand, it feels as if a bolt of lightning strikes you down or as if your chest has been cracked open by a sledgehammer. The agony was too great to even scream as you fell to your knees and crashed back into the ground.

It was lights out.

It was quiet. Dark—a vast, unending expanse of nothingness that swallowed you whole. An endless drift. It would have almost been peaceful if not for the faint pull at the edges of your awareness, like an anchor trying to tether to something you couldn’t see.

But then came the first sound.

You heard voices—muffled cries. Please wake up, said one voice. Please stay with me, came another.

Pain began to throb somewhere in the background, dull and distant. Disembodied as if it belonged to someone else.

Don’t you dare leave me. The voice was sharp, demanding, cracking under the weight of fear. You knew that voice and remembered all the sweet things it used to whisper to you. Your heart takes a painful lurch. You can hear its occasional beat in your ears. We need you. I need you.

Oddly, you were cold.

You were drifting again, further and further. The anchor was slipping. You were sinking, your head hardly above water, when another muffled voice broke through—whimpering, sobbing. Your heart lurches painfully.

Mom, please don’t go.

The words pierce through the nothingness, shattering it all to bits and pieces. The words pull at you, a lifeline you hadn’t known you clung to and needed. Images begin to flash, and suddenly, the voices are no longer just voices. Your heart suddenly burns as though the memory of life itself is fighting its way back into you.

Your eyelids were heavy, limbs weak, unresponsive—cold. You were so cold, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from crawling out of a black pit that threatened to swallow you whole. There’s a faint sensation of pressure, a hand tightly gripping yours.

Light begins bleeding into the edges of your awareness. You sucked in a deep breath, lungs empty and greedy.

Then, your eyes fluttered open.

You blinked a few times, realizing how hard it was to breathe. Breathing was supposed to be an automatic response, but you had to force it, each breath dragging along the back of your throat like sandpaper. You’re weak and shivering as you use most of your energy to sit up. You were in an empty room, you realized—the sharp smell of sanitizer permeating your nose.

You push yourself out of bed, knees buckling under your weight. You catch yourself, gathering whatever bits of strength you have left. Your teeth clattered. You were freezing. Shaking, you wrapped the white blanket over your shoulders, gripping it tight before you trudged towards the door.

The hall was mostly empty, all except for a sleeping boy slouched over in a chair beside your door. Your heart squeezes.

“Megumi,” you whispered his name. You stare at him for a moment, unable to bite back the tears that nip at your dry eyes.

You wrapped the blanket around him, tucking it gently around him. However, he flinches, jumping straight up in his chair. “S-Sorry,” you tell him quickly with a watery smile. “You looked cold.”

“You…” the word was a raw and weak whisper. His eyes widened. It took a moment for recognition to settle in, but once it did, he spoke again. “You’re awake.” He stood up from his chair, and you stepped back, offering him space. “You’re awake,” he repeated again.

Then, you start to wonder just how long you’ve been out of it. Days? Weeks? The thought of months terrifies you, but before you can even go down that loophole, he’s hugging you tightly. “You’re awake,” he says once more, his voice breaking.

However long it was, he’s right. You’re awake. You’re here, living and breathing. You wrap your arms around his torso, patting and rubbing his back soothingly. “Yup… I’m here. I’m awake.”

You let him be the one to pull away, letting him take however long he needs. You enjoyed it regardless. You couldn’t remember the last time you hugged him.

When he pulls away, his eyes are red. He sniffs a bit, backing up and taking the blanket off his shoulders. This time, he’s the one wrapping the fabric around you. He’s frowning a bit as he does. “... you’re the one that’s cold,” he notes quietly.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” He asks softly, brows furrowing.

You shook your head. No. Frankly, you didn’t remember much of anything right now. “I was on my way with Yuji and Nobara. We got on the train after you let me know where you were staying.” That’s right. You texted Megumi when you figured out where you’d be staying. You thought they’d come over sometime in the following days. You had no idea they were rushing to see you on the next available train.

He places his hands awkwardly on your shoulder before gently guiding you to the chair he was sitting in moments ago. As you go to sit, your body seems to forget how to move for a moment, and you lose your balance. He catches you quickly, carefully helping you down into the chair. “When we got to Kyoto, we realized quickly how bad things were over there. We started helping out at the Kyoto school, dealing with the curses that had been lingering in the area where the cursed womb opened up. Eventually, we ran into Todo and Miwa. They told us what happened.” He grunts, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with you.

You’re silent for a moment. “How long was I out for?”

“Pushing four days now.”

The memories strike you like a fright train. “Are you okay? Is everyone alright?” You hadn’t realized you had reached for his cheek.

He grabs your wrist, thumb gently caressing the back of your hand before pulling your hand away, guiding it back to your lap. He moves the blanket until it's covering you again. “We’re all fine. Everything’s been dealt with. Yuji and Nobara went down to the cafe to grab some lunch. They’ll be thrilled when they come back.”

You tilt your head. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

He smiles a bit. “I didn’t want to leave you unattended.”

You don’t know what to think. You’re just happy you’re back. Happy because he was happy. You always hated it when he worried about you. You never believed it was his job to do so. However, he stayed by your side and protected you when you couldn’t protect yourself.

You wiggle your toes and roll your shoulders before standing again. “You shouldn’t be standing–”

“I’m alright, I promise,” you tell him, dismissing his concern. “I just want to walk around, okay?”

He stares at you intently, unsure, but he seems to have no energy to argue with you. “... alright,” he relents.

He follows you closely as you drag your feet across the floor. You don’t know where you are walking, but you want to stretch your legs and regain a sense of your body. You are weak, but you need to move.

You ask the question you were too hesitant to ask: “What about Gojo?”

He huffs. “He left a little while ago. Said he’d be back shortly,” he scoffs. “Bullshit if you ask me.”

“Megumi,” you sigh his name with a soft reprimand.

“He should be here,” he responds disgruntledly. “He should be by your side, and he’s not."

You stay quiet. You’re not exactly sure what to say to him when you agree. Maybe Gojo was done. Whatever this was, whatever relationship you had—maybe he didn’t want you anymore. You look ahead, fighting your own body that threatened to collapse at any moment. You could feel Megumi’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the heart to look at him right now.

You were afraid you would sob if you did.

Though you had never walked these halls before, the hospital's layout was quite easy to catch on to. After taking a fourth right turn, you see your room in the distance. A stubborn part of you says to keep going and keep walking, but the exhaustion is catching up to you quickly. If Megumi hadn’t been by your side, cautious eyes scanning you, you might have kept going until you passed out. You realize that the strength you had was nearly depleted. Only trickles of your cursed energy remained, and it would be a long while before you gained it back.

You hear footsteps behind you. Quick and ushered. Megumi turns before you, his whole frame tensing. He sucks his teeth and clicks his tongue. “So he finally shows up.” He speaks in a sardonic tone, loud enough for anyone in the hallways to hear.

Satoru comes running from around the corner then, taking deep breaths. Your brows slightly pinch together in confusion. “S–Satoru,” you stutter, walking closer. “When did you get here?” He looks disheveled. Alarmed. Was he just running?

It was hard trying to figure out what he was feeling or experiencing when that black eyeband covered his eyes. However, you noticed the bouquet in his hands, a delicate combination of soft and tender hues: pale pink and roses, white peonies, deep pink lilies, and baby’s breath delicately wrapped along sprigs of greenery.

You place a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go eat with the others?”

“But–”

“I’ll be alright,” you explain to him in a soft tone.

He hesitates, torn between staying and leaving. He was unsure if he should leave you to handle this alone, but after a moment, he backed down, probably realizing he shouldn’t stand between the two of you and what needed to happen. With an irate glance shot at Gojo, he turns, pocketing his hands as he makes his way to the stairs.

Only when the door shuts do you look at Satoru again.

He stays unusually quiet, his face unreadable. Frankly, it was rather unsettling. You had no idea what was going through his mind. “I–I’m sorry!” you blurt out the first words that crash to the surface of your mind the moment you see him in his entirety. There was no hope of holding back. After days spent away from him, lost in his absence, and days dancing on the edge of death, the words tumble out of you before you can stop them—unbidden, unstoppable. “For everything. Y–You must have been stressed with work and other things. My fuck up only added to your plate. I get it, ya know? It's selfish of me, even now, to rely on you so much when there’s a whole world that needs you. They are not my students, and I put them in danger.” Quickly, the tears gather in your waterline again, but you blink them away. “I–I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll… I’ll go. I’ll get out of your way, and you won’t have to deal with me bothering you any longer–”

“Can I touch you?” The question comes suddenly, softly, and almost hesitantly.

You blink a few times, puzzled, but then, you unravel, folding inward under the weight of his voice. Your breath hitches in your throat. Was he still holding onto what you had said that night? Was he haunted by the barriers broken and the others so carelessly assembled?

He still wanted you?

You didn’t want him to let you go. Not yet. Not ever.

Like a dam breaking, you surged forward, closing the space between you two. Seconds later, you feel his resolve crumble. He crushes you to his chest, flowers falling to the floor. His arms enveloped you with a force that robbed you of breath, your feet nearly coming off the ground as you both stumble backward. Trembling, he clung to you as if you were an anchor in a world that threatened to tear him apart. There were no words—the unspoken agony and grief were far too overwhelming to put into words—if there even were words for it.

I’m sorry. I love you. I’m glad you’re okay. You felt it all with him. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, hear its frantic rhythm match your own.

His hands were shaking, one tangling in your hair, the other wrapping entirely around your frame and squeezing your hip. He buries his face into your neck, and his hot breath is ragged and uneven as he inhales your scent. “I thought–” he swallows, shaking his head. “I didn’t know where you were—for a second time.”

Your cursed energy was low, more depleted than it had ever been. It explains why you were so weak, so frail. When he saw your empty bed, he must’ve panicked. He ran to you, anxiously following the weak traces of your presence.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and the familiar silk of his eyeband rubs against your skin. You gently tug at the fabric with the tips of your fingers. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he stills as you slip the black band from his face. He lifts his head just enough to rest it against yours. They were that same stunning shade of azure—bright and impossibly vivid, glowing softly as if they carried the remnants of a forgotten star. Captivating, otherworldly, yet achingly human—something he’d often forget from time to time.

“You promised,” he murmurs, voice broken. “You promised.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask just as brokenly.

Suddenly, one of his hands grasps your neck, and you choke on your words. He doesn’t squeeze tight, but the look on his face is enough to make you gasp. “I couldn’t feel you. I couldn’t feel you anymore,” he says achingly.

Your chest tightens, nails slightly digging into his forearm. You open your mouth to speak, failing more times than succeeding. You wanted to speak, but the words lodged in your mouth.

“I–I don’t understand.”

“You’re not wearing it anymore,” he murmurs, his nose brushing softly against your cheek. The necklace you always wore—his gift to you, the one that held a part of him, a part of the two of you—was gone. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, an absence that gnawed at him like hunger, an emptiness he could never satisfy.

His voice wasn’t angry, far from it. It wasn’t even harsh, but something in it—a quiet desperation—made the air between the two of you quiver.

“You promised you’d never go where I couldn’t follow,” he whispers again. “Remember?”

You nod in his hold, tightly pursing your lips together when a few tears escape, dripping from your eyes. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours again, gazing deep and unwavering into your eyes. I remember. His grip on your neck loosens until he removes his hand from your throat completely, gentle fingers pushing down your shirt's fabric. His fingers trace your skin, the empty spot where your necklace once laid.

Then, it suddenly hits you. “Oh.”

He could feel you as much as you felt him. If you were ever too far from him—out of the range of his sight, out from where his hands could reach for you, that necklace was a beacon, a beckoning, a lighthouse in the storm that guided you home—guided him home.

You squeeze him tighter. You missed him. You really missed him.

“How did you find me?”

He takes a moment to breathe, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart. “Utahime.” He wheezes out a pained laugh. “She called me panicking once you collapsed. I got there as quickly as I could.”

You copy his laugh, albeit coughing a bit from the pain blooming in your ribs. You hated to admit it, but the longer you stood, the more your body began to hurt. “I should just heal myself and get this over with.”

“Don’t,” his grip tightens on you again. “you’re using it wrong. There’s damage, lots of it,” he tells you, wiping at the blood that had stained your skin at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Any more and–” his eyebrows furrowed deeply, the weight of grief and guilt tugging his features. The corner of his lips tightened. “Shoko operated on you for hours. You nearly died.”

He sees what others cannot, his gaze piercing the surface to something deeper, something raw. He sees the world through an entirely different lens, and right now, the sight of you seems to pain him dearly.

For a moment, you wonder just how much damage is hidden within you and how much it must weigh on him to see it. “Shoko might have gotten you out of the woods, but she told me you’d need a few more rounds to get you back to normal.”

“That makes sense,” you murmur, allowing your entire body weight to ease into him. He accepts you with open arms. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Or twenty.”

“I missed it,” he utters, voice thick with regret. “If I had just looked a bit closer, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I fucked up. I could’ve prevented this.” His careful grip on you tightens as if you’d slip away from him once more. “But,” his tone softens. “You did so well. You took care of that cursed womb before I could even get to the scene.” Even through his pain and wallowing, his heart swells. He was proud of you.

He bends down, grabbing the flowers he dropped before moving towards you again. “Oh gosh,” you hide your face into his neck as he reaches down, one arm hooking under your legs as he lifts you. You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m definitely fired, aren’t I?”

He carefully guides you back into your room. He manages to toss your flowers on the counter by the window. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll handle it. ‘Kay?” He places you down on your bed, but he hesitates, not wanting to fully pull away.

Your eyes flicker, recalling the night of your augment. You knew this was the reason behind his haunted expression. You recognized the torment because you, too, had felt it. “You’re mad,” he observes relatively quickly.

You didn’t want to bring it up. You weren't necessarily mad, not anymore, but even near death couldn’t make you forget the pain he had caused with words he so carelessly struck you down with.

“What you said… Hurt me, Gojo,” you look down at your hands, feeling selfish for even bringing this up after nearly dying. However, you knew this conversation was inevitable. “Even if you were right I felt cast aside. Useless. Why didn't you tell me you felt that way before?”

“No… don’t say that. I was being stupid. I over reacted. I know you'd always protect those kids and that's exactly what you did. You’re not weak or a nuisance, or... convenient.” you flinch at the word. “You’re far from that. I need you to know that.”

“...Then what am I?”

“Everything,” he shudders. “You’re everything.” His lips brush over your forehead, your cheeks, and eyelids, each kiss tender and lingering. But then he pauses, his smooth lips hovering just above yours. He’s always been so confident, so self-assured. You’re unsure how to react.

You were sitting on your bed, feet dangling just above the floor. He is leaning over you, one large and warm hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face gently. He was close, but not close enough. Even bent at the waist, his height keeps him just out of your reach unless he leans back down just a bit more…

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, giving him all the assurance you have to offer.

You were hurt, but you still wanted him.

You still loved him.

His mouth was warm and soft—testing the waters and treading carefully. His grip on your thigh tightens until–

He lets go. You feel the tension in his body dissipate, and finally, he allows himself to fully enjoy you—taste you. The kiss deepens, and you swear it brought life back into your frail body. He overwhelms you now in the most delicious way possible. Your toes curl, and your tight embrace eases. Your arms go weak, your hands moving to run down his chest, his taut muscles quivering in the wake of your touch. Every moment was a promise, every brush of skin a new vow. No words were spoken, but you both heard everything that had been held back, everything that had been left unsaid.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

He smiles against your lips, but you don’t stop or pull away, catching and nipping at his bottom lip. Then, you kiss him again, slotting his top lip between yours. “You really love me, huh? Hehe.”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said it—whimpered murmurs against his lips. No wonder why he looked all dopey and smiley.

“You’re not going to make me grovel for forgiveness?” He pecks your lips again. “This seems too easy. I know you’re still mad.”

You chase after his lips. “Of course, I’m still mad,” you mutter against him. “But I thought I would never see you again.” Even as he frowns, you pepper his lips with kisses. “Plus, it's not like you to grovel.”

“I would for. Only for you, of course.”

You giggle, nipping his lip a little harder. “Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “I’d like to see that.”

Oh no. You’ve made a grave mistake. You knew you messed up again the second the words fell from your lips. There’s a glint in his eyes now.

“Oh, my beautiful, angelic Queen! I know I have displeased you. Please accept my humble apologies!” You squeak at the suddenness of his actions. He sinks to his knees dramatically, and his palms meet the dirty floor, and so does his forehead. “I am at your mercy! I have failed you greatly, and I wish to make amends.”

You swat him on the back of his head, but it's not nearly enough to hurt him or deter him from whatever this is. “Gojo! Don’t bow like that! Get up!”

“But I can’t!” He whines. “You must forgive me! I will spend eternity on my knees if it means I can regain your favor, my perfect, beautiful, divine Queen. You alone rule this sinners heart!” He inches forward on his knees, squeezing himself between your legs. His hands find homage on your waist as he nudges his face into your stomach.

Your eyes roll skyward. “Only you could apologize and insult me at the same time, Satoru,” you grumble, looking down at him before running your fingers through white stands.

Suddenly, he looks up from this position, resting his chin right beneath your ribs, grinning ear to ear. “You called me Satoru~”

You feel your face flush, heat gushing to your cheeks and ears. “Shut up. You’re such an idiot. Can you get up now?”

“Nah,” he says lazily, burying his head into your stomach again. His voice comes out muffled. “I’m trying to make amends with my Queen. Let me, will ya?”

You ease, realizing you won't be able to stop him from doing what he wants. Even if it was a bit theatrical, he was doing his best—you know that because you know him. You let your nails gently graze his scalp as you continued to pat him. He hums, almost purrs, as your other hand finds his shoulder, squeezing him gently before running your fingers under his shirt, caressing his skull and the taut muscles in his back. A beat of silence passes, but you find yourself uncaring.

You had him back in your arms. That’s all that really mattered to you right now.

“Look, I know… I know I messed up,” he begins, voice so low, you nearly miss it. “I’m not great at this—saying the right things. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was stressed. I was fed up with the higher-ups and fed up with my missions, but that’s no excuse. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. You deserve better than what I was giving you. I’m gonna try to be better… for you. For us.” His words hang in the air a bit awkwardly, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. It couldn’t be missed. He shifts a bit, moving to kiss your belly. Then, his large hand wrap around yours, guiding your hand closer to his lips. He kisses the back of your knuckles tenderly as if the act of his apology could never be enough.

“You want me to stay?”

He squeezes you tighter. “Of course I do. What would I be without you?”

“Hm. You’d still be Gojo Satoru. Even without me.”

“I don’t want to imagine a life without you,” he mutters. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow. I've already told you that…”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper sweetly, patting his head. He nudges his head further into you. “The world will always need you.”

“I will always need you. So please… stop talking like this.” He pinches your side, making you squeak. Finally he looks up, an unimpressed expression gracing his features. “And don’t ever leave the city to get away from me. When you told me you were going to a hotel, I thought you meant in Tokyo.”

You chuckle nervously, looking elsewhere. “Yeah… Sorry about that.”

“Next time, take a walk or something. I dunno, go touch some grass if you get tired of me.”

A small smile escaped you, followed by a quiet laugh that shook your shoulders. You pat his back three times before kneading him softly. “Okay, humble peasant. You've groveled for long enough. Now lay with me,” you demand him. “I want you to lay with me. I’m so tired.”

“Psh. I’d hardly fit on this bed.”

“Whatever,” you tell him, scooting over. “I’ll make room. Get in, string bean.”

He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a bit awkward at first with his lanky form, but he makes it work. It was a tight fit, and his feet slightly dangled off the bed, but he made no objections. With your back to his chest, he held you against him securely.

“You’re cold,” he observes out loud when you start playing with his fingers. It’s a bitter realization, a deafening one on his part. You know it bothers him, especially as he wraps the blanket around you tighter.

He tries not to let it show. However, he quickly becomes restless and you know he isn’t sated. He begins to move. “Let me go get you another blanket.”

“Nooo. Stay here.”

“Huh? But you’re freezing! And you’re never cold!”

“I’m already warming up!” You intervene with a small giggle, tugging him by his jacket. “Just shut up and lay with me, already.” He hesitates before unbuttoning his black jacket. When he was determined, there wasn’t any stopping a man like him, and right now, he was determined to get you warm.

He lays his jacket over you, spreading the fabric out, smoothing away all the wrinkles, and making sure you're covered. It might as well be a blanket with how long it was over you. Bonus points because it still carried him warmth and smelled like his cologne. A blend of earth and wood with a hint of something darker—smokey and smooth. You always loved the scent. Whenever he walked by, it brushed past you like a gentle breeze over still water, warm and inviting, with subtle notes of leather, musk, and vanilla.

He grunts a bit before easing into the bed again. “My little icicle- ow,” you shot your elbow back, getting him right in the ribs. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He chuckles, before wrapping his arms over you one more. He brushes your hair from your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He kisses you there once, twice, three times before saying something familiar.

“I could sense when you left Tokyo. I didn’t know what to do. Even with my eyes, I couldn’t find you. You were just gone. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow." He kisses your neck. "Please.”

You turn around, searching for his lips. He melts into you once again, squeezing your side sweetly. “I promise,” you murmur. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow,” you say, voicing back the same promise he made you. He smiles faintly against your lips.

When you woke up the next morning, your necklace was there. It was back where it belonged, sapphires resting gently over your steady beating heart—carrying Satoru’s silent promise.

Wherever you go, that’s where I follow.

a/n: I honestly don't know how I feel about this but if you made it to the end I hope the nearly 18k was worth reading. If you couldn't tell its based off the song Die With A Smile. Honestly, I think I might have been happier by making this a bit longer and flushing out some of the scenes more, but I was trying new things and I was excited to post my first jjk post :) however its getting late now but if there's any typos or errors I notice later I'll edit as needed.

anyways, if you'd like to see more gojo x sorcerer!reader let me know! also I really hoped you liked the bits I added with Megumi (he's just a smol bean).

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! :p

#milawritess #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #fanfic #satoru gojo x reader #angst #jjk x you #happy ending #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fanfic

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kwoniele · 17 days ago

Text

from behind - csc

synopsis: your innocent picnic date with seungcheol escalated fast, but you can’t find yourself complaining about it.

genre: smut. porn w some plot lol

warnings: jealous scoups (we cheered!), clueless mingyu who ruined their date lol, hard!dom scoups, pillow princess!reader, angry cheol but not really?, overstimulation, edging, doggy, mention of mingyu during sex, dacryphilia but theres no extreme crying happening, oral (f receiving), fingering, hands are tied, unprotected sex, birth control but it’s not mentioned, that’s all i think… not proofread! i hate reading my work 😊

this was not how you expected the date to go.

in your mind, you imagined a quiet park with the breeze flowing through your hair as you and seungcheol were chilling on a plaid blanket on the grass. you prepared chocolate covered strawberries, a cake to celebrate your anniversary, iced tea to quench your thirst, and snacks to munch on as the two of you talk.

but goodness, were you wrong.

mingyu was walking his dog when he saw you and seungcheol and figured it’d be nice to greet the both of you. except, he didn’t stop talking. he kept telling stories about his recent fashion show he attended in paris—clearly oblivious to the fact you and seungcheol were on a date.

it only got worse when mingyu started to tell a tale of how you and him were absolute best friends in highschool. his hands mindlessly caressed your back and his smile (which he deemed was a friendly one) was a little too wide for seungcheol’s liking.

“it was so much fun! remember sports day? ms. kang really enjoyed the marathon.” mingyu laughed, not paying attention to how seungcheol’s jaw clenched, how the veins on his forearms were bulging, and how his neck and ears looked as if he painted them red.

“yeah! i- of course i remember!” you lightly chuckled, glancing at seungcheol who was clearly uncomfortable. he’d already eaten the entire container of strawberries, chugged down two water bottles, and even dared to open up the chips you bought.

“ah, fuck. sorry y/n. i have to go, shua hyung needs me at the shop.” mingyu abruptly stood up, putting bobpul’s leash back on her collar and waved goodbye to you and seungcheol.

the silence after mingyu left was deafening. suddenly the children playing at the playground were louder, the bushes swaying were rustling a little faster, and you can hear your pulse thumping.

“i’m sorry. about, y’know.” you scooted closer to cheol, resting your chin on your palm as you tried to meet his gaze. “ah~, what can i do to make it up to you?” two of your fingers nudged his chin to force him to look at you.

“make it up to me? you really want to make it up to me?”

“yeah! i’ll do anything. you can even be mad at me. actually, you should be mad at me! i’m sorry, hm?”

“fine. okay. i’ll be mad at you, but, you still have to do whatever i say. got that?”

and that’s how you ended up on the satin bed sheets, thighs spread apart as your hands were tied up with a random tie from his suits. you couldn’t touch him, pull his hair, scratch his back, you couldn’t do anything.

“fuck- cheol..” your back arched from the bed, bucking your hips into his mouth as his tongue rapidly inserted in and out your pussy. his thumb was circling your clit mercilessly, pushing you closer to the edge until he decided to halt all his movements.

“you think i’m going to let you cum just like that?,” seungcheol sucked on your neck roughly, putting pressure on the hickeys he already made prior. “want to cum so bad huh? what if i get that mingyu to do it for you? hm?”

“no.. not mingyu.” you breathed heavily as his chuckle tickled your neck.

“seemed like you were just as happy to have him right there earlier. am i wrong?” his middle finger slipped into your hole again, earning a hitched breath escape from your throat as he felt your walls twitch around his finger.

“i’m sorry, ch-cheol. haa~ please.. please fuck me.” your desperate tears pricked your eyes, making seungcheol smirk as he notices your glassy eyes.

“do you deserve it?”

“yes! yes yes yes! please, cheol.”

his gaze on you felt like he was staring at you for ten years. he slipped his finger out of your pussy and reached for your hands—slowly untying them from the bed frame. you immediately rubbed your wrists, easing the pain his tie caused.

“on fours, baby.” he unbuckled his belt and threw his pants across the room as you obeyed his words—putting your ass on display as you patiently wait for him to give you your next instructions.

you could feel the mattress dip as seungcheol positioned himself behind you, gripping your waist with one hand as the other teases your cunt with his tip. you knew he was grinning when you let out a whine once he got his head inside.

as soon as his entire cock was inside your hole, he rested there for a few seconds before slowly sliding into your cunt. “hngh~ faster.. please.” he didn’t say anything. instead, he gripped your waist tighter and thrusted into you aggressively without warning.

your hand reached for the pillow in front of you to grip onto as seungcheol fucked you as fast as he could from behind. your hips began to match his rhythm as you met his thrusts, causing seungcheol to groan inside you.

your walls began to twitch around him which told seungcheol your high was nearing. you thought he was going to slowly ease his thrusts, but god where you wrong. if it was even possible, he began to fuck you even harder than before. his tip kissed that spot multiple times which pushed you further to the edge.

“fuck, cheol, i’m close.” you warned.

“cheol— hngh! cheol i’m gonna cum!” you warned again.

“i’m cumming!” no answer.

he didn’t stop. why wasn’t he stopping? “i’m not going to stop fucking your pretty pussy until i cum, okay? we’re going to make sure everyone here knows my name.”

and he meant it. he didn’t stop at all. whenever a second passed, he only got rougher. faster. you already came multiple times at this point—but he wasn’t stopping.

seungcheol’s groans began to get louder, and louder. he chanted your name as if it was a mantra, and his grip on your waist tightened. he was near.

“baby. inside or no?” he urgently asked, confirming with you what you wanted before he came to his release.

“inside! please- please!”

you felt ribbons shoot inside you as his cum painted your pussy white. all his movements stopped. he pulled out of you to watch his cum ooze out of your cunt, smiling and taking his phone from the bed side table to document his artwork.

you plopped down on the bed, hair sticking to your forehead and chest heaving. “you should get jealous more often, huh?” you joked, pulling him by his neck to plant a kiss on his lips.

“piss me off one more time, i’ll do even worse than today.”

#🍀 cali’s works . . .#💬 seventeen . . .#seungcheol smut #kpop smut #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol #scoups #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol fanfics #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x you #svt seungcheol #scoups x reader

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izadi234 · 4 months ago

Text

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4(You're here)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 4

The next day, Duke woke up early (and not just because he had training with Bruce and Dick), but the excitement of seeing you again after several days kept him awake all night.

Thank goodness it was the weekend which meant Duke could stay out a little later than usual, although to be honest he would have preferred to stay with you in your new "home" but two things stopped him: The first was that you still hadn't told him where you currently lived for the simple reason that you were still settling into your apartment and the second was because it wasn't in the plans he and Alfred had made.

Just a little longer and you'll be in your (cage) home again.

After his training with Bruce and Dick, Duke thanked them and quickly left to have breakfast and then get ready. Clearly, this attitude on the part of the young man didn't go unnoticed by his mentor or his older brother.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Dick asked Bruce

"No." The security guard shook his head. "Maybe he's going out to see someone. He looks excited."

"Maybe," Dick nodded.

At the dining table were the other family members, Jason and Damian. They both looked at Duke as if he had grown two heads taller just because he was devouring the food as if he hadn't eaten in 100 years.

"You know that the food isn't going to go away, right?" Jason chuckled.

"You should eat properly, Thomas," little Damian scolded.

"I'm sorry, guys!" he apologized as he stood up. "I have something to do and I'm in a bit of a hurry!"

He didn't allow the other vigilantes to ask who he was going to see because he had already left.

As he climbed the stairs, he almost ran into Tim, Cass, and Steph, who looked at him confused.

"Why the rush, Duke? The mansion is burning and we have to evacuate?" Steph joked

"Sorry guys! I'm going to see someone and I'm already late" he said before entering his room

"Oohh˜ Is it a secret girlfriend?" Steph asked the other two

"I don't think so. Duke never talks about girls" Tim said

"What if it's a boy?" Cass proposed

"I don't think so either. He would seem more nervous but he's more excited" she analyzed

Quickly Duke took a shower and changed his clothes. In a backpack he packed his laptop, chargers and wallet. You never know when he might use it and he could also ask you for help with some tasks he had some doubts about.

Once ready Duke went down and headed for the door when Bruce stopped him.

"Where are you going Duke?" the eldest Wayne asked curiously

Duke turned to look at him and with a smile said:

"I'm going out for a while"

"And with who if you don't mind me asking?" Bruce smiled thinking it was some young love

"With (Name)" Duke said as if it was the most normal thing

"(Name)? Wouldn't it be easier if you spent time here at the mansion?" Bruce suggested a little confused by the fact that both preferred to spend time outside the mansion instead of there.

"No, I don't think so, it would be a little complicated for (Name) to get here" the boy answered

"Getting here?" he asked confused "Duke, what are you up to..." he was cut off by the young man

"I'm sorry Bruce but I have to go! I'm running late" he said and then left him with the word in his mouth

Once Duke left, Bruce stared at the door with a frown.

Why would it be difficult for you to get to Wayne Manor when you lived there?

Unless...

"Alfred!" called the butler

The game began

"Yes Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he approached to see what he needed but he already knew very well

Alfred who was watching Bruce and Duke's interaction from the shadows of the mansion, had a sly smile on his face that hid when his son called for him.

"What? What do you mean they don't live here anymore?" Bruce asked the butler

"That's right Master Bruce. I thought you had realized that" Alfred said quietly

"No! I don't..." he sighed heavily and sat down in his chair while hiding his face in his hands

"I've been very busy" Wayne excused himself which made Alfred frown

"Busy? Busy for 15 years? So busy that he didn't give them even 5 minutes of his attention but still spent time with the other young masters?" Alfred pointed out

Bruce's heart stopped for a moment at his words. He was right (as always). How could he forget for 15 years his eldest heir, his first blood kid? Yes, the night with your mother had been fleeting but, you weren't to blame for his actions. But he should have been there for you when you lost your parents, in fact, since before your birth he should have been there for you and your mother since she was pregnant.

But now he didn't regret it. He knows he screwed up, but now he could fix it. He could buy you anything you want, go to your competitions, watch movies with you or do anything you like but...

What do you like to do?

What are your hobbies?

What movies do you like?

But now that he thinks about it...

What grade are you in? Are you in high school or already in college?

And if you're already in college, did you miss your graduation? What are you studying?

And what about your age? Your friends?

Who are you?

"Alfred" he turned to look at the butler who just looked at him neutrally "Where are they?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer your question, Master Bruce. They didn't leave a clue as to where they were going" Alfred replied

"What?" he stood up from his chair

"That's right" he nodded

After a few minutes of silence Bruce spoke again.

"And where is their room?"

He doesn't even remember the room he assigned you

"Follow me, sir."

"This is it, sir." Alfred stopped in front of a white door with some (f/c) (favorite color) decorations painted on it.

Bruce approached and caressed the details of the door as if just touching them would give him the power to know you better despite the years.

The eldest Wayne opened the door to your room only to find an empty room, a bed with the sheets and blankets folded on top of it and the walls in your favorite color.

"I don't remember when they painted their room," Bruce said as he looked around.

"They changed the color a couple of times. The last time they painted their room was when Master Duke arrived. He offered them his help after they helped him settle in better at the Manor," Alfred explained as he also looked at the room, not with curiosity like Bruce did but with longing and melancholy.

Bruce looked around the empty room and despite being the best detective in the world he couldn't find any clues as to who you really were or where you might have gone.

"Tsk... There's nothing here..." he muttered to himself

"Maybe... You should ask the other young masters and mistresses" Alfred suggested

"Maybe they saw you on your last day"

"Yeah..." Bruce snapped out of his thoughts "Maybe they know something"

After that, he left your empty room leaving the old butler alone. Alfred looked around the room one last time before leaving and closing the door.

Don't worry (Name), soon you'll have a better room than the last one.

While chaos was beginning to spread at the Wayne residence, you were waiting for Duke in the park in downtown Gotham just as you had agreed on the phone.

You were checking your phone while sitting on a bench. You were tired of waiting for your brother, but you would wait for him as long as necessary. You also understood that Wayne Manor was not that close to the center since it was somewhat (very) far from the rest of the city and if you were honest, from afar the mansion seemed somewhat haunted and when you were little you couldn't help but think it was Dracula's mansion. And those same thoughts made you feel terrified of living in that place, especially when it rained. You always went to Alfred for protection and the kind butler always assured you that there was nothing to fear and that Dracula was not real. Clearly, the mind of your 4-year-old self didn't think the same, and your idea didn't change when you discovered that your family were all security guards who only worked at night and that their symbols were bats (although some also had birds on their suits).

You smiled at that memory from your childhood, maybe not so pleasant at the time but now, at 19 years old, it made you laugh.

"Hey (Name)!" a voice made you come out of your daydream

When you turned to see who it was, you saw Duke running towards you with a big smile on his lips. You quickly got up from the bench you were sitting on and before you could take two steps, Duke had already reached where you were and hugged you.

You laughed at his somewhat childish attitude but you hugged him gladly anyway.

"It seems like you missed me" you joked still hugging him

"Of course I did" he turned to look at you "You are sorely missed at the mansion"

That's not true...

You wanted to contradict what he had said but to be honest you didn't want to fight with Duke and much less talk about the mansion and its inhabitants.

"Well well" you giggled "Where do you want to go? There are a couple of cafes around here if you want to go get something to drink and if you want we can go to the arcade to play some video games afterwards"

Even though Duke felt a little disappointed that you broke the hug between the two of you his eyes lit up when you mentioned the arcade.

"Sure! Let's go!" he said excitedly

"Okay, let's go" you smiled at him and then started walking towards a cafe you frequented

When you got to the cafe you both stood in line to order. When it was finally your turn you smiled at the barista and greeted him.

"Hey Mark" you greeted the boy

"Oh hey (Name)!" the boy greeted you back with a smile in kind "How are you? How's the race going?"

"Fine fine, a little too tiring" you chuckled "But I'm enjoying it"

"I'm glad to hear that" the boy smiled at you "Are you going to want the usual?"

"Yes please and you Duke?" you turned to see your brother who had just been staring at the boy and without you realizing it he was giving him a look that could kill anyone

Who was that boy?

A partner, friend, a crush? Or even worse...

A secret boyfriend?

Duke knew better than anyone that you were extremely good at keeping secrets so he wouldn't doubt that you had a partner and didn't tell anyone.

Damn... This made his plan more urgent...

Your voice brought Duke back to reality and his smile returned to his face.

"Oh yeah, I'd like a hot chocolate please."

"Okay," the young man nodded.

You paid for both drinks and waited a few minutes for your drinks to be prepared. Once you had your drinks, you sat down at a small table near the cafe window.

"So... how do you know that guy?" Duke asked you

"Well, I usually frequent this cafe, and he's usually here when I come so he already knows me a little" you giggled

"I see..." Duke said and then smiled "So tell me, how did college go for you?"

You were studying journalism, inspired by your father or rather stepfather, (F/N). And even though many people you knew tried to change your mind about it, you always remained sure of your decision. You were in your third semester, since the first 2 semesters you took online and to be honest, it was a little harder but much more fun and interesting.

"I'm doing great!" You said with a big smile "I've met so many interesting and nice people and the face-to-face classes are a little more difficult but I feel like I'm learning. One of my teachers is assigning us tutors who are high-level journalists and although I'm still waiting to see who is assigned to me as a tutor I just hope it's good"

"That sounds great!" Duke smiled

Even though he looked happy on the outside, he was actually frustrated on the inside.

Were you really that happy away from the mansion?

Away from them?

Away from him?

No, it can't be... That's impossible

He had missed you from the first second he found out you were gone!

Had you stopped loving him?

Is that why you don't tell him where you're living?

He was wondering all that but when he looked into your eyes he calmed down.

No, that wasn't possible

You are someone so sweet and kind, you would never forget him

If you did, why would you be there with him?

But even so, he wasn't going to take the risk, even though he enjoyed seeing you happy...

YOU NEED TO GO BACK HOME

Hellooo! Here's the next chapter! I hope you all like It and enjoy it! Sorry for taking a bit to publish this but I've been kind of busy, still I hope I publish the next chapter sooner. Also, I've been tagging everyone in the TAG LIST so tell me if you want me to add you!

Anyway, if you liked it I would appreciate if you leave a heart and I'm Also interested to heart if you have any ideas or opinions about the story.

See you in the next one!

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

@eyeless-kun @profounddestinyrebel @holyfishbailiffpeanut @toast-on-dandelioms @dhanyasri @kiarst @phoenixgurl030 @wpdarlingpan @glitterisname @sackofsadstuff @riddle-me-im-sirius @sirenetheblogger @bat1212 @bluelock4life @revysplacexxx @skz-goose @mistfire1999 @vanessa-boo @tatsuri-zomushiki @kore-of-the-underworld @milliu @lee-bits @ch1cky-093 @leiiasurez @bluemidnightmelodies @lilyalone @plsfckmedxddy @lovebug-apple @jisnothere @akanegotlost @stormz369 @sugarpiehoe @mddbsf @shhhhhhhhhhtellnobody @i-adorehannah @darktrashpoetry @fantasyhopperhea @d3sperate-enuf @expctron @horror-lover-69 @caffeinatedhearts12 @niggrroo

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becomesylus · 12 days ago

Text

Types of Boyfriends

``yeah, as the title suggests....... your LI as your boyfriend``

multi x reader

warning: there will be nsfw content underneath each li so put that to note. mentions of perversions, masturbation, piv, breeding, exhibitionism, manhandling/roughhousing, etc., zayne's aftercare is lowkey awkward but it is intentional, lowkey not sure if they're equal since its mainly word vomit from me lol.

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

xavier

he's the type of boyfriend that would wrap his arms around your waist whenever you two cook. He would leave kisses on your neck as you stir. He would attempt to pull away to try and help only for you to quickly grasp his arm and maintain it there.

“no, no, it’s fine! your arms is the best help and support i need,” you spoke, masking a panicked tone that he overlooked, as he just smiled and giggled through his breath while returning back to his position.

he's the type of boyfriend that would randomly push you into the mattress so he could lay on top of you and sleep.

"you're comfortable... I love sleeping with you" he would mutter as he nuzzles his head on to your neck

he's the type of boyfriend that would encourage you to eat, especially if you haven't been eating, and would even share his food with you if he knew that you haven't eaten

alternatively, he's the type of boyfriend who would also be the type to finish your food if you can't finish it.

he's the type of boyfriend who listens to you vent and wouldn't give you advice unless you ask him to.

he's the type of boyfriend that would be willing to play any game (board or video games), even if he’s clueless and never heard of it.

he’s the type of boyfriend who would make up a language only you two would understand.

nsfw

he's the type of boyfriend who lets out breathy moans rather than loud gutteral groans.

"uh—ha, baby... you feel so good"

he's the type of boyfriend who loves to test your flexibility and push your legs up your shoulders.

he's the type of boyfriend who gets off to you making him jealous/angry. Flirt with any guy or girl and he will LOSE it, and you both thrive from it.

he's the type of boyfriend who sends you teasing photos when you're away and then pretend like nothing's happen.

xav baby: *image*

xav baby: the skies today is beautiful, don’t you think? :)

you: holy fuck xavier DON’T PLAY WITH ME !

he's the type of boyfriend who isn't big on pda but loves to make you scream, so the neighbor who attempted to make a move on you knows that you are not available.

he's the type of boyfriend who enjoys eating you out like you’re a meal. his tongue sends you signals to your body that causes you to shake as he skillfully twirls around your clit, making you whimper.

he's the type of boyfriend who enjoys marking you up over you marking him.

he's the type of boyfriend who would love to fuck you under the stars. the whole concept of you two lying on the picnic blanket at a secluded park, far from any light pollution, where he slowly inserts himself between your gummy wet walls, sighing in pleasure and intertwining each other underneath the stars, turns him the fuck on.

he's the type of boyfriend who broke the bed once and didn't pay attention until the next day.

he’s the type of boyfriend who always checks on you after you're done and looks after you. he would kiss any bruises he inflicted on you.

"i didn't hurt you too much, right? was i too rough? did you like it?"

rafayel

he's the type of boyfriend who bullies you. obviously not in a way where he’s hurting you, but in a affectionately teasing way and almost as always follows it with loving words. he always catches you off guard but he never does anything to hurt your feelings.

“god, you talk too much…” he abruptly says, interrupting your speech about a fuck up that happened at work, making you narrow your eyes as he menacingly smiles. he then pulls you into his embrace, “i fucking love it so much, please keep talking…”

he's the type of boyfriend to use your as a muse. you are a source of his art and he has multiple portraits of you that he either sketched or painted. he never releases them as they are a part of his private collection.

“you are a beauty that mother nature tries to emulate but can never achieve”

he's the type of boyfriend to play fights with you. once again, he never does anything to hurt you physically or emotionally, but he loves bantering with you.

he's the type of boyfriend that you can trust with his taste in fashion. he could give you a whole color analysis if you let him.

he's the type of boyfriend who would keep the artwork that you draw for him, even if it's a badly drawn piece, he'll hang it up somewhere.

nsfw

he's the type of boyfriend that enjoys public sex. if he could strip you down in front of everyone, he definitely would. he definitely has fantasies on taking you away from his exhibitions and just fuck you while everyone observes his art

“this is the only art piece i can have for myself” he whispers against your sensitive skin as he fingers you, collecting your honey on his digits.

he's the type of boyfriend who, similar to the sweet and innocent art pieces, has collections of art pieces where you’re nude in them. some art pieces are hyper realistic fantasies of positions he wants to see you in.

furthermore, he's the type of boyfriend who definitely got off to pictures and drawings of you. he would never show it to you but there are definitely sketches that have suspicious stains around the paper.

he's the type of boyfriend who LOVES when you ride him.

he's the type of boyfriend enjoys you marking him over him marking you.

he’s the type of boyfriend who would prepare you a romantic bath as aftercare (totally not a lead-up to another round... but that is only if you're down of course)

zayne

he's the type of boyfriend who takes extra care of you when you’re sick. he’ll get you ready with prescription and gives you the appointment in a short span of time (he mostly appoints himself as your doctor of course but sometimes emergency happens so he can’t always be there). he’ll also cook you home cooked warm meals for you to indulge while you’re under the weather.

“i made you some hot porridge for you to warm up. i also set your medication and more water next to you. if you ever needed anything else, just call out for me, okay, honey?”

he's the type of boyfriend who may not showcase it but is hands down obsessed with you. he wouldn’t even notice but he would constantly mention you in a subtle way to his yvonne and greyson, only for the two of them tease him for it.

he's the type of boyfriend who makes up any excuse to get you out of the house and come to his office.

“(y/n), are you coming today for your appointment?” zayne’s voice echoing from your phone caused you to furrow your brow in confusion.

“appointment? i never set an appointment…”

“well, i just made one for you and i want you to pass by my office.”

“but i already did my routine check up”

“well, i think there are missing data, and i need you to fill—“

“zayne, just say you want to see me…”

“… just come by my office”

he's the type of boyfriend who’s way to his heart is to give him sweets. he could scold you about being careless about your health, but sneak in a chocolate bar, and there he turns into a snicker’s slogan “you’re not you when you’re hungry” and completely takes back everything he says

he's the type of boyfriend who lets you pick his outfits at outings. he obviously doesn’t always rely on you like a child would, but he loves to hear your input when it comes to appearance since he can get a bit careless about his image due to his hectic job.

nsfw

he's the type of boyfriend who begins to mumble whenever he reaches his peak, becoming an incoherent blabbering mess.

he's the type of boyfriend who enjoys any position where he’s seated. he enjoys the sight of you rutting and bouncing against him. couch, rocking chair, office chair, you name it, he’s sat and ready for you to have him for a ride.

he's the type of boyfriend who enjoys marking you over him.

he's the type of boyfriend who’s glasses fog up whenever you two simply get into a heated make out. whenever he tries to remove it, you always push his hand away to keep it.

“let me remov—“ he attempts to remove his glasses only for you to pin his hand back.

“NO! keep it on... please...”

he’s the type of boyfriend who would fuck you in his office whenever he’s pent up.

his hands grip your hips as he thrusts himself in and out of your sopping hole. you were certain that you’ve stained his wooden desk but at this moment, neither of you cared about the soiled furniture or coat that zayne still has on, he finally lets himself go.

“i’m gonna come inside you… is that okay?”

he’s the type of boyfriend who gives you extensive after care

"is there anything you need? here are your water and i'll have the bath ready, yeah?" he caresses and pecks your cheeks before he goes to the bathroom. and as the water's running his head pops up as he utters,

"don't forget to pee also... utis aren't fun."

sylus

he's the type of boyfriend who loves to compare hand sizes with you. he’s obsessed with how your hands shrinks whenever he’s holding your hand.

he’s the type of boyfriend who believes in the whole “my money is your money and your money is your money” concept. he’s rich and doesn’t have many people he can spend on, so might as well spoil his kitten every single tike she asks for something.

he’s the type of boyfriend who’s a closeted hopeless romantic when it comes to you. he never showcases it to anyone, but he always envisions a whole future with you in it, including family.

he’s the type of boyfriend who’s never afraid of showing you off. if it weren't for your job, he would've said "to hell privacy goes," he wants the whole world to know who his partner is and isn't shy.

he’s the type of boyfriend who would match outfits with you. he'll be willing to wear any color just for you, even the colors he isn't sure.

"are you sure you want me to wear this?" sylus looks down with a blank face as he looks down at his attire. his usual reds and blacks were not in sight and instead bright blue and white outfit across his body, clearly putting him out of his comfort zone.

you giggled as you excitedly hopped, "sylus, you look so good, you should wear colors more often!"

that comment raises his brows in intrigue, whilst his ears began to slightly turn into a deeper red.

"...i'll think about it."

he’s the type of boyfriend who would kill anyone just for you.

he’s the type of boyfriend who's a biter.

he's the type of boyfriend who would hold you after a jumpscare from a horror movie.

nsfw

he’s the type of boyfriend who loves it when you test his dominance and attempt to put him into submission. he always plays along with you, but you know who always gives the order.

"remember, kitten... i also bite back"

he’s the type of boyfriend who loves giving you marks over your body. he also allows you to mark him and is shameless about it. luke and kieran would pretend like they didn't see the hickey that sat at the side of his neck.

he’s the type of boyfriend who has a serious size kink. no matter what body type, he's almost always bigger than you and he's obsessed with that.

"look at you... so tiny underneath me, fuck, i don't how i would use you without breaking you."

he’s the type of boyfriend who despite his rugged and intimidating appearance, is actually a gentle lover and always goes with a certain pace that YOU desire.

he’s the type of boyfriend who gets off to your lingerie photos that you would teasingly send while he is away.

you: *image*

you: have fun at the meeting <33

sy <3: fuck sweetie...

sy <3: you'll pay when i get back.

he's the type of boyfriend who broke the bed once as well and he reassured you that can buy a whole new house, a bed is practically nothing.

he’s the type of boyfriend who will carry you to the bathroom to freshen up and walks like he hasn't just fucked you sideways, forward and backwards.

he’s the type of boyfriend he's the type to treat you like a princess inside and outside the bedroom.

caleb

he’s the type of boyfriend to sit you by the counter as he cooks.

he’s the type of boyfriend who would send you memes and funny videos and tell you "i thought of you <3"

he’s the type of boyfriend who would tell you out-of-pocket comments just to make you laugh. he does it purposefully most of the time but others are simply shower thoughts.

he looks at a hotel from the ground view and you try to follow his line of gaze.

"babe, what are you looking at?" you ask, trying to find what he's looking at.

"do you think that there are couples who are raw dogging right now in this building?"

"CALEB WHAT THE ACTUAL FUC—"

like xavier, he’s also the type of boyfriend who would make up a language only you two would understand.

he’s the type of boyfriend who would watch trashy tv shows with you.

he’s the type of boyfriend who would use you as weights at the gym. he would tell you to lay on his back as he does push ups.

he’s the type of boyfriend who would scold you if he knew you skipped meals. he doesn't care what's the excuse, unless you were having surgery or fasting for health or spiritual reasons, he'll tell you off for skipping.

he’s the type of boyfriend that would make himself lose a game just to make you win and feel good. he’s addicted to making you smile and he’ll be damned if he ever made that smile disappear

he's the type of boyfriend that would play around with the ripped jeans and insert his fingers in the holes (totally not making fingering motions)

nsfw

he’s the type of boyfriend to manhandle you. he gotta put his strength to use on you.

he’s the type of boyfriend to be very handsy when he's horny. he grips your hips and ass whenever he wants you bad and he isn't shy about it.

he’s the type of boyfriend who would put his colonel cap on you as you ride him out. He looks from below as you rut against him, his hands are cupping and groping your breasts.

"how cute," he breathed out through his moans while his cap fell down your eyes. he pushed far up to see your eyes that were rolled back.

"much better"

he's the type of boyfriend who loves it when you get touchy whenever he's in a uniform. he knows you're obsessed with him in his unform so he might as well indulge.

he's the type of boyfriend to be mercilessly fast with his fingers.

he's the type of boyfriend who enjoys hair pulling, both giving and receiving ends

he's the type of boyfriend who enjoys overstimulating you to the point you start babbling gibberish. he loves the sight of your mind breaking and your body trembling underneath him

"huh? what? you want more? who am i to deprive that from my sweet girl, huh?" he utters with a smirk as he proceeds on thrusting you in and out in a vigorous pace.

he's the type of boyfriend who kisses you gently and praises afterwards before he massages your body lightly to ease any soreness.

"you did so good, baby... you're amazing" he coos as he leaves chaste kisses around your skin as he rubs your sore leg.

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uluvjay · 3 months ago

Text

First time for everything-Q. Hughes

Quinn Hughes x fem! Reader

In which Quinn lets you ride his face!

Warnings?; SMUT, oral (obvi), cursing, kissing, talks of sex, sorry for any errors I missed!

Day seven of my kinktober special!

You were never one to tell about your sex life, it had always been something that you liked to keep to yourself but tequila always did make you tell the truth.

Standing at a table with the wags, bored out of your minds while your partners played a round of pool a round of dirty never have I ever started at your table.

“Never have I ever sat on someone’s face” one of the girls spoke up, everyone around the table dropping a finger-besides you.

Everyone’s eyes snapped to you, jaws dropping open in shock as you kept your finger stayed up.

“Y/n you’ve never been eaten out?” One of them asked, face full of seriousness.

You blushed at her words, “I’ve had someone eat me out..just never sat on their face.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Girl! you’re telling me you and Quinn have never tried it?”

You felt your cheeks get even hotter at the mention of your boyfriend, there was no doubt that you two had a busy sex life but you two were pretty set in your routine.

“No, what’s the difference?” You questioned.

You proceeded to sit in silence for the next few minutes as everyone went around explaining how much better it is, how you good it feels to grind down on them.

The conversation was abandoned a few minutes later as some of the guys made their ways over and inserted themselves.

Later that night you found yourself lost in your thoughts on the ride home, thinking about if Quinn would want to try it or how he’d feel.

Getting into the apartment Quinn plopped down on the expensive couch a sigh of relief to finally be home as his social battery was long drained.

His eyes popped open when he still hadn’t felt your body next to his or even heard you move, “What’s wrong?” He asked softly.

“Nothin-“

“Don’t say nothing, you’ve been quiet since we left the bar.” He cut you off, sitting up to give you his full attention.

“I-me and the girls were talking about something..and it just got me thinking.” You shrugged.

Shuffling over to him you moved to straddle his lap relaxing into him as his arms wrapped around your body.

“Did someone say something rude?”

“No No, it’s about..sex” you knew your cheeks were bright red at this point but there was no going back now.

“Oh?..” Quinn drawled out hinting for you to continue on.

You laughed to shake the nerves before continuing, “we were playing never have I ever and the topic of sitting on someone’s face came up..and I never have.”

Quinn didn’t need you to tell him that seeing as he’s the only man you’ve ever been with he knew your body and your experiences like the back of his hand.

You didn’t miss the smirk that tugged at his lips at your admission knowing he was doing his best to keep his words to himself and allow you to keep talking.

“..And I’ve been thinking about trying it. If you’re okay with it.” You spoke locking eyes with his dark one’s.

You shivered as his hands ran along the outside of your thighs and under your short skirt that he’d been eyeing all damn night.

“You wanna sit on my face baby?”

“Mhm”

You watched in amusement as he tossed his Yankees hat across the room laid flat against the couch.

He didn’t waste anytime before pulling your body higher up his positioning you so you were hovering over his mouth.

His lips kissed the skin of your thighs, teeth nipping the skin lightly pulling small gasps from your plump lips.

“Knew you didn’t have any panties on.” He scoffed as his eyes found your bare cunt under your blue skirt.

You moaned as his breath met your cunt the teasing breath he blew towards your glistening folds sending shivers down your spine.

“Ready?” He asked softly.

“Yes, please” you whimpered.

Quinn didn’t have to be told twice before he was lowering you to his mouth, the initial contact causing your hips to buck slightly only for your clit to catch on the tip of his nose.

Your hands flew to his dark locks as his arms circled around your thighs to pull you ever closer soft vibrations of his moans flowing to your center.

His tongue moved in mysterious ways, going from shapes to his name whatever he knew would have you shaking on top of him.

“Fuck Quinn.” You moaned body slumping forward your arm shot out to grip the back of the white couch while the other was still tangled in His hair.

It was so good but so fucking dirty, your hips moved on their own accord as you pretty much humped your boyfriend’s face.

Quinn didn’t mind one bit as he was lost in his own little world eating you like you were his last meal, he could already feel his chin dripping with your juices and there was no stopping him.

He kept going until he was about to pass out only pulling back for a sharp intake of air before going right back to work, basking in the way your moans floated throughout the small living room.

His nose was something he found himself being insecure of when he was younger and it still bothered him from time to time but after feeling the way you rubbing yourself against it desperately he’d never worry again.

The pleasure was flowing throughout your whole body making it harder and harder for you to hold off your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Quinn! I’m close.” You cried out breathlessly chest heaving as you continued your movements back and forth.

You could feel the man below you manage a nod-his way of telling you to cum for him.

And all it took was a few more strokes of his tongue before you were shaking on top of him, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream.

Quinn grunted at how hard your hands pulled at his hair the pain mixing with the pleasure he was feeling from knowing you were getting off.

He let you go for a second allowing you to catch your breath but just when he felt you attempting to pull back from his face he dove back in.

“Fuck!” You squealed at the unexpected sensation the mix of his tongue and previous orgasm sending shockwaves through your body.

Quinn moaned at the taste of you the sweetness of your juices and cum filling his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his tongue until he brought you to another orgasm.

Only when he felt your legs give out did he let up, releasing his grip he allowed you to move back down his body.

Once he finally sat back up he pulled you into a dirty kiss you could taste yourself on his tongue, your juices that coated his chin and surrounding areas spreading onto your face.

His eyes were dark when he pulled back, a look you’d never seen before in them. He looked like a starved man that was ready to eat you over and over again.

“Feel good?” He panted pulling you into his side.

“Good is an understatement, we’ll be doing that much more often.” You blushed.

“Fuck yeah we will.” He agreed.

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fluff #nhl blurb #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fic #jays24kinktober

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soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 9: Save Me

Summary: You find yourself confronting feelings as you move past the events that caused your distress, and as your heat begins looming closer and closer.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, PTSD, mention of weapons, slight suggestive content

A/N: I feel like a broken record but I really don't like this one either, but I'm so ready to just get to this point in the story lol. I feel like I've dragged it on long enough. We're definitely reaching a point where things are shifting and changing and things might seem like they're moving kind of fast. Sorry for all the choppy time jumps too, I just wanted to get to this point in the fic 😭

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

A knock on the door pulls you from sleep. You groan quietly, wrapping your arms tighter around the pillow you're cuddling.

That pillow lets out its own groan, moving slightly.

“Gotta get up, love. Answer the door.” Your pillow grumbles, shifting in your hold.

You're wrapped around Gaz still, clinging to him tightly. You vaguely remember an alarm going off and Gaz rolling over to turn it off before you slipped back into sleep. Gaz had apparently fallen back asleep as well, or at least had stayed with you after both of your alarms going off.

Gaz carefully untangles your limbs from around him, slipping a pillow into your arms before rising from the bed. He stretches his arms over his head, a sliver of skin visible as he does so. You stare at it until he lowers his arms, your eyes already slipping closed again as he opens the door.

You hear quiet voices, the words lost on you as you slip further and further into a daze of sleep.

Until the smell of food hits your nose. Your stomach growls loudly, and you lift your head, squinting sleepily as you search for the source of the delicious smell.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Price's voice rumbles through your ears, his hand warm as it brushes over your head. “How do you feel?”

You let out another groan, leaning into his touch as his hand strokes your hair. You’re still sore, muscles aching like you had spent the entire day yesterday training. You feel less emotionally drained, not quite so overwhelmed to the point of near numbness now.

“Dr. Keller wants to see you after you’ve eaten.” Price says, pulling his hand back.

You let out a quiet whine, trying to chase his hand. He chuckles, gently nudging you back so you don’t topple off your bed. He slips his hands under your arms, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed. Your cheeks warm at how easily he does it, that warmth heating to an inferno as he sits on the edge of your bed with the bowl of porridge in his hand. You’re suddenly very awake as he holds out a spoonful to you, and you feel as if your face might burst into flames. His eyes are focused, lips turning up in a small smile as you let him feed you. You know it’s appeasing his alpha, just based on the pride practically beaming from him.

You hold his gaze as he feeds you the porridge, skin prickling from the attention as you cling to the stuffed strawberry in your lap. You can imagine him in your nest, holding you against his chest, feeding you in your heat-induced daze, making sure you eat and get plenty of fluids.

“You alright in there?” He asks, scanning your face.

You nod, trying to calm the inferno under your skin. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

The content smile on his face shifts, morphing into a smirk. “Must be some good thoughts, then.”

You nod, taking the glass of water he offers you and downing it.

“Get yourself dressed, then we’ll go see Dr. Keller.” He says, pushing himself up to stand.

“Yes, sir.” You nod again, letting out a yawn.

“If you’re not up in ten minutes, I’ll be forced to make you get up.” He says, giving you a playful smirk before leaving and closing the door behind him.

Your face warms again at his words. You’re half tempted to burrow back under the covers, if only to see if he’d follow through with that threat.

Dr. Keller said it would be a good idea.

You tell yourself that as you stand in Price’s office. The door is closed behind you, sealing you both inside together. His scent is heavy in the air, making your head spin. You wonder how long he’s been sitting at his desk, how long he’s been shut inside today.

“Grab a pillow.” He says, his voice thick and heavy. He sounds tired, and you wonder how much he slept last night. If he slept at all.

Your slippers make a scuffing sound as you shuffle over to the couch, grabbing the pillow you had used last time. You move over to him as he leans back in the chair, taking your spot next to him. You sit back on your heels, letting out a breath as you try and relax. His hand strokes the back of your head, giving you a moment to adjust to his touch before he slides it down to the back of your neck.

You fight the instinctual urge to protect yourself, stopping your shoulders from lifting to try and force his hand away. You’re still not quite used to it, the vulnerability making your omega squirm, especially after the events that took place yesterday.

You know you can trust Price, but your omega wants to bristle at everything right now. Perhaps you’re picking up on Price’s own exhaustion, his own stress bleeding into you.

His fingers press into your neck and your body relaxes almost immediately. Your mind begins to clear, and you feel as if you’re floating away from your body. All the emotions and the stress and the soreness in your body fades as you relax into Price’s hold. Warmth begins to flood your body as your omega finally settles, nearly preening as your alpha takes control, taking the weight of the world off your shoulders.

You can’t see Price’s gaze on you as he watches you kneel for him, lost in his own thoughts. How easily you relax for him, how trusting you are of him in this moment. You’re putting your entire being in his hands and trusting him with it, even though you’re practically still strangers. It hasn’t even been three full weeks since your arrival in their lives and already so much has happened. It feels like things are moving so quickly, but he knows they could move faster.

If he were a worse man, a worse alpha, he would have claimed you already. Taken what was his to take and cared little for you and your needs.

He’s not going to be that kind of alpha. He decided that a long time ago, long before you came into the picture.

You fall into him limply as he eases his hand from your neck, letting you rest against him and breathe in his scent. Your nose presses into his neck, your warm little breaths causing goosebumps to form on his skin. A quiet sound rumbles in your chest as you press closer to him, getting louder as you breathe him in.

You’re...purring.

Pride wells within him again. You’re comfortable enough to purr around him. He did that. He made you feel safe and comfortable enough to open up that much.

He slips his arms around you, rising from the floor to move to the couch. You continue to purr, the sound vibrating through you and straight to his inner alpha. The sound begins before he can stop it, his own chest vibrating as he answers your purr with one of his own.

He holds you close to his chest, purring contently as you slowly drift off in your relaxed state. Eventually your purrs die off as sleep takes you, but he continues to sit there, his own purrs vibrating in his chest as if they can reach through and soothe you even in your sleep.

“Too tight?”

You move your wrists, pulling slightly at the restraints. “No.” You shake your head.

“Good.” He runs a hand over your head, tugging at the vest, making sure it’s secured before he steps back. “Alright?”

You nod, shifting slightly in the wooden chair. “Yes, sir.”

“Remember, it’ll be fast and intense, but they’ll take good care of you. Don’t forget to play it up a bit. It’s good to know if they can focus in this situation.” Price says, running his hand over your head again. “And I’ll be watching the entire time.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss on your forehead before he leaves the room, the beta outside the door pulling it closed behind him. You tug at the restraints habitually, even though you could get out of them easily. Just like you could get out of the vest strapped to your chest and the chair you’re sitting in easily.

Hostage rescue training was not how you expected to spend your Thursday morning, but you suppose there are worse things you could be doing besides being restrained in a chair with a fake bomb strapped to your chest.

Price had told you about their training yesterday. You hadn’t expected to hear about how you were going to play hostage when he summoned you to his office, but it had been far too formal a request to be something simple. You had been hesitant when he explained, but the risk was small. They weren’t using live bullets, and the bomb strapped to your chest was hardly more than a bunch of wires and a timer counting down. Price had even ensured the restraints weren’t too tight, and had shown you how to slip out of them easily.

The worst part had been your mind running rampant while he secured the rope around your wrists.

You hear the distant sound of the helicopter dropping them off, the entire mood in the house shifting. The betas outside have a role to play, and so do you.

The sound of the door outside getting kicked in makes you jump, your heart rate kicking up. You know it’s them, you know it’s fake, yet you can’t help but let the emotions in the moment get to you.

They don’t know it’s you they’re rescuing.

Price hadn’t told them you were involved. He wanted to see if they could keep their heads in a situation like this. It’s important to know. Gives them something to work on if they can’t.

You hear the pop of the fake guns outside the door before two solid thuds shake the door in front of you. You hold your breath, your fingers shaking in the excitement and adrenaline as the door flies open. You flinch out of instinct, blinking at them as the three enter the room. It suddenly seems smaller with them in it, their surprise not lost to you, even in the tenseness of the situation. You know you’re scent is thick in the room, cutting through the trained laser focus in their minds as they run through a drill they’ve probably done countless times.

Something they’ve probably done in real life situations as well.

“Easy, sunshine.” Soap says, kneeling down in front of you. “Gonna get ye out of here.”

“You can defuse that, right?” Gaz asks, standing behind him. You know they’re both trained in demolitions. You remember that from their files.

“Course I can.” Soap says, looking at the wires.

The timer starts beeping in warning, your heart rate picking up instinctively. There wasn’t anything that would actually explode if he failed, but you can’t help the chill of fear settling in as he messes with the wires.

“Come on, Johnny.” Ghost says from behind you.

“I got it.” Soap growls out, sweat beading on his forehead.

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Time seems to slow as he studies the wires, the timer continuing to beep as it counts down. Even though you’re not in any danger, you still feel the fear welling inside you. He does know what he’s doing, he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place if he didn’t. Yet you can see the struggle, the hesitation, the uncertainty in his gaze.

He wouldn’t let you die, right?

“Ten seconds.” Gaz warns.

“Johnny?” You breathe, voice cracking as you meet his bright blue eyes.

He mutters a curse before cutting one of the wires. The tenseness in the room is palpable for a moment as all four of you hold your breath. The silence is loud, the timer on the fake bomb sitting still at six seconds. Soap’s head falls forward to rest against your chest as he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re shaking, fingers trembling as Ghost cuts the rope around your wrists.

“Hostage secure.” Gaz says into their comms.

“I wasnae gonna let ye die, sunshine.” Soap says, removing the vest from your body.

“Kinda felt like it.” You murmur as he helps you out of the chair, your legs shaking a bit from the adrenaline.

“Come on.” Ghost says as soon as Soap has you on your feet. “Captain’s waiting.”

Your legs still feel unsteady as you follow them out of the building and across the grass, hand clutched tightly in Soap’s. The fabric of his glove is rough against your skin, but you can still feel the warmth of his hand in yours. You lean against his side as you reach Price across the field, not missing the way his gaze scans you head to toe quickly before he addresses the others.

“Not bad,” Price says. “And the hostage is in one piece.”

You’re still shaking a little, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “Was kind of fun, actually, getting tied up and stuff.”

Soap and Gaz both let out groans at your words, Ghost rolling his eyes at your cheeky smile. The corner of Price’s lips twitch, and you can’t help but beam with pride at eliciting such a reaction.

“Let’s get back to base, and we’ll go over the specifics.” Price says.

You wind up in the back seat of one of the cars with Soap, his arm draped across the back of the seat. You’re leaning into his side, his fingers brushing your arm every so often as the car drives down the bumpy road.

“Ye called me Johnny.” He says quietly, leaning in closer to you.

You stare up at him. “You were going to let me explode.”

“I was not.” He says, looking offended. “I knew wha’ I was doin’” His brows pinch together, his hand cupping the back of your head. “I would never let anythin’ happen to you.”

“I know.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “At least I hope so. Blowing up is kind of a shitty way to die.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, if it happened that way, ye wouldn’t be goin’ out alone.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Ye can call me Johnny anytime you want.”

You smile, snuggling deeper into his side. “Okay, Johnny.”

Your smile only widens as you pick up the subtle rumbling purr sounding from his chest.

“How are things?”

“Fine.” You shrug, sinking back in the chair.

“I heard you took part in the hostage training. How did that go?” Dr. Keller asks.

“It was fine, kind of intense but also kind of fun.” You shrug again, a smile tugs at your lips. “They didn’t know I was the hostage, so that was fun to see their reactions.”

“Was that reassuring to see them in action and have them pretend to rescue you? I know we’ve talked about that fear briefly.” Dr. Keller says.

“In a way, I guess.” You say. “At least, I know they could do it if they had to. I mean, not that I don’t trust that they couldn’t, but...it’s different.”

“It’s different when it’s someone you care about.” Dr. Keller says. “How are you feeling? I know we talked earlier this week, but distressing is a serious thing to go through.”

“I’m alright.” You say, picking at your jeans. “Not sore anymore. Price called off training for a while to let us both kind of figure things out.”

“Have you spoken to Lieutenant Riley since Monday?” She asks.

You nod. “Yeah. A couple times. I didn’t accept his apology, not that he really said sorry directly, but he at least...explained some things.”

“And it is totally within your right to not forgive him.” Dr. Keller says. “I applaud you for putting up that boundary. I know it’s not easy, but sometimes people need to work to prove themselves again.” She makes herself comfortable on the couch, staring at you. “How have you been aside from all the excitement? Have you started nesting yet?”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “No. I-I feel more comfortable now that I have things for my room, but...I still don’t feel like nesting.”

Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment before she writes something down. “What do you think is causing this hesitance in your instincts?”

Your mouth opens in surprise at her question, not quite expecting it. You had spoken last week about things you might be able to do to help if you weren’t nesting by now. You had expected to start throwing out ideas in that regard, not that you would be digging into why.

“I’d like you to be honest with me. Remember this conversation will only ever be between us. No one else is going to hear this, no one else will ever see my notes. It’s just you and me.” She leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees as she stares at you. “Would you have chosen to be in a place like this, if it were up to you?”

“It wasn’t up to me. It never was.” You say, starting to sweat nervously a bit. It’s getting warm in the office.

“I know, but hypothetically speaking. If you had the option to choose, would you have chosen a place like this? A military pack?”

You stare at your hands, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You wouldn’t have. You know that, you’ve thought about it over and over. You wouldn’t have put yourself in this position. You would have gone as far from the military and politics as you could have, had it been up to you. You want something quiet and easy with an alpha that loves you and takes care of you. Not...not this.

You’re crying. You can’t stop the tears that are trailing down your cheeks. You feel guilty for thinking that way. It’s not your choice, it would have never been your choice. You’re supposed to be a good omega and be okay going wherever you’re told to, with whatever pack picks you.

They hadn’t chosen you.

They hadn’t wanted you here. Price had fought against your addition to their pack up until you arrived. You know Ghost has his own opinions about your presence here. They had been told they were getting an omega and you had been told you were going to be that omega.

Would they have chosen you?

You wouldn’t have wanted them to.

Dr. Keller says your name quietly, her tone sympathetic as you sit there and cry. You’re crying for the life you were supposed to have, the life you could have had, the many things that would have been different had you just been a good pup and presented like you were supposed to.

“I don’t want to be here.” You sob, burying your face into your hands.

You feel guilty, admitting it, even if it is the truth. Your pack has been nothing but kind and supportive, aside from the incident earlier this week. You like them, all things considered. You can imagine yourself being happy with them. Was it what you wanted, though? Was this where you would have elected to spend the rest of your life?

No.

“Can you tell me why?” Dr. Keller asks softly.

Her question only makes you cry harder. You could. You could tell her exactly why. You don’t want to bring up those feelings, those memories, those emotions. You want to leave them behind in the past, buried under everything you learned that made you such a good omega. It would ruin everything, if that got out, if those feelings came to light again.

Your breaths are coming in gasps as you sob, Dr. Keller rising from the couch. She grabs a stuffed animal from her closet, walking back over to you. She eases it into your arms, pressing it against your chest.

“Squeeze. It will help.” She directs you, dropping to a knee beside you. “This has something to do with the military, doesn't it?” She says softly, putting a hand on your back. “I know your father served and you spent most of your childhood on bases. Was there something that happened?”

You take deep breaths, squeezing the bear against your chest as tight as you can. “I can’t.” You sob, shaking your head. “I can’t.”

“Okay.” She says, gently rubbing your back. “That’s okay. Deep breaths.”

You continue to breathe, trying to calm the tears. Dr. Keller continues to rub your back, trying to ensure you don't slip into distress again. The calming beta scent floods your nose, reaching back into your brain to calm the turmoil.

Slowly your breaths begin to even out, and the tears slow to a stop. You’re still clutching the stuffed bear to your chest, arms wrapped around it tight.

“You’re doing a good job.” Dr. Keller says, grabbing a box of tissues for you. “You’re handling this whole situation better than I think a lot of omegas would. But, that doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t struggling a bit. You don’t have to tell me everything, you don’t have to tell me anything. It’s all up to you. I just want you to know that I’m not going to judge you for anything, and I’m not going to tell anyone anything. I’m here for you, and you alone.”

You slowly release your grip on the bear, your hands still shaking a bit. Dr. Keller moves back to the couch as you stare down at the plastic eyes, running your fingers over its soft fur.

“I do think it would be a good idea to address the nesting issue sooner rather than later.” Dr. Keller says, still speaking softly. “We don’t have to get into the why until you feel comfortable enough to, but you need a nest before your heat starts. I have a couple exercises in mind to help maybe jumpstart those instincts, but we’ll need Captain Price in on this issue as well for them to work. I can speak for him on your behalf, if you’d like. I won’t tell him any details.” She says as your eyes dart up to look at her. “Only that there’s a nesting issue and there’s some exercises I’d like the two of you to try.”

You let your gaze drop back to the bear. You know you need to start nesting, and with your heat rapidly approaching, you’re beginning to be pressed for time. Your heat could start as soon as next week and if you don’t have a nest...

“I guess that’s fine.” You say, staring back down at the bear in your hands. “If you think he can help.”

Dr. Keller nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I think he can.”

“Thank you for meeting with me, Captain Price.” Dr. Keller says as they take a seat in her office. “I just wanted to preface this conversation by saying I was given permission to discuss this with you, because we both agree you should be made aware of what’s going on.” Dr. Keller shuffles her notes as Price sits there, back straight in the chair. “Frankly, if I’m being honest, I’m starting to get a little concerned about my patient.”

“Concerned about what?” Price asks, brows pinching.

“She’s not having nesting instincts.” Dr. Keller watches Price’s face as she speaks. “Even with what you did for her, buying her things to make her more comfortable, she’s not getting that urge to make a nest. I know you’re aware that’s a crucial piece of a successful heat, and with that looming ever closer, I’m worried about her.”

“What do you think is causing it?” Price asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’m not sure, yet. I did promise I wouldn’t reveal any details about anything, but I do feel comfortable saying, as I’m sure you have figured out, there’s a lot of trauma behind that institute taught, if I may be so frank, bullshit.”

The corner of Price’s mouth twitches. “Not a fan of institutes?”

Dr. Keller shakes her head. “No. I’m not. There’s many professionals that share the same sentiment. They’re hardly the nurturing and cultivating places they present themselves to be, though I’m sure you’re figuring that out yourself. It’s always been about control and profit. The current model most of them use is outdated and has been proven in study to be highly ineffective. There are some places here in Europe that are beginning to reform institutes and what they teach, taking a more omega-centric approach, instead of just priming them for future alphas and packs.”

“Can it be undone, the things she was taught?” He asks, purely out of curiosity. “The way she thinks about herself?”

“I think so, to a degree.” Dr. Keller answers. “You’re already seeing it a bit. She’s already having her beliefs and understanding challenged. Supporting her through that will be an important step in your bonding. The best thing you can do is support her and prove her institute taught beliefs wrong. I think you’re doing a fantastic job already, as is she.”

“What can we do about the nesting?” He asks.

“I have a couple exercises in mind I’d like to try. I’ve used one in practice before in a different situation. It was at one of the institutes I worked at after I was certified as an omega specialist. Two omegas were brought in off the streets. I can’t give too many details but they’d been through something very traumatic and had bonded intensely with each other. They couldn’t be separated at all without slipping into near distress. Of course, institutes don’t allow those kinds of bonds as it’s hard on the omegas when they reach selection age. So, we did an exercise where I had both scent a stuffed animal and then gave them each other’s so they’d have something tangible to focus on. Then we started slowly working on separation, using those stuffed animals so they could keep the scent of the other close. It worked, eventually they were able to be apart. I’d like to try the same thing, but to the opposite effect. I’d like you to scent a stuffed animal so it can be used as a sort of symbol, something tangible she can use to represent you.”

“A way to introduce me into her nest without having me there invading her space.” Price says.

“Exactly.” Dr. Keller smiles. “Having an alpha’s scent around her might help induce not only that feeling of comfort she needs, but may also help induce those instincts to nest. Doing it this way prevents the risk of discomfort by having an alpha invading her space directly, while still allowing for the introduction of an alpha’s scent.”

“Alright. What else do you think might help?” Price asks, running his hand over his beard.

“Another exercise, this one more tactile in nature. This particular one she can do herself, though she may choose to involve you later as she gets more comfortable doing it. I know she’s kneeling for you already, which is fantastic. Some omegas don’t kneel until after being claimed. That she feels comfortable enough to do it already is a good sign. She’s already had these exercises explained to her, but I would like to meet with you both to walk through them again, and in the end, it’s her decision what happens.” Dr. Keller gives him a small smile. “Do you have any questions?”

“What can be done if these exercises don’t work?” Price asks.

“There are a couple other things that can be done, though they’re far more invasive. I wouldn’t even suggest them unless she’s showing clear signs of pre-heat symptoms and still hasn’t nested yet. They have their risks, and that’s not something I’m willing to gamble on unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Price hums quietly. “Is there anything I could be doing differently to help?”

“I think you’re both doing fantastic jobs with the hand you’ve been dealt. It’s not an easy situation and the fact she’s made as much progress as she has is remarkable, honestly. My job’s been fairly easy so far. I was expecting a lot worse when Laswell briefed me. That being said, there’s still a long way to go.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Price says, shaking her hand. “You’ve been a big help.”

“It is my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Remember, I’m always here if you have any questions or concerns. I may be an Omega Specialist, but that also includes the omega’s pack as well.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Price says, giving her a smile. “And I’ll be sure to tell your brother you said hello.”

Dr. Keller smirks, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, remind him to call his sister every once in a while, while you’re at it.”

You run your fingers over the soft fur of the teddy bear. Your eyes flutter closed as you let Price’s scent wash over you. You clutch the bear to your chest, wrapping your arms around it tightly as you lounge on your bed. You bury your nose in its fur, breathing in Price’s earthy scent from it.

A quiet sound begins to rumble in your chest as you hug the bear tightly. A small, content smile pulls at your lips as you curl up in a ball around the bear, purring quietly.

It’s been so long since you purred.

You haven’t since you were a pup, still young enough to find safety in your home, before you really understood much of anything that was going on. You only ever purred with your mother, snuggled up in the nest with your siblings, warm and content and safe.

Your dad never purred. Or, you never heard him do it. You remember the deep growls that rumbled through his chest, the scent of ozone. The warning that made you bristle, even as a pup, that tickling feeling at the back of your neck almost like your brain knew years before you even presented.

You wrap your arms tighter around the bear, letting Price’s scent flood your mind and wipe away the fear, the feelings, the emotions mixing together. Price isn’t like that. He was so willing to help you, to jump in and do what it took to make the best of a situation that neither of you had a say in. Just an alpha and an omega bound to duty, forced to follow what someone else says. How very much alike your lives are, and yet, so vastly different.

That’s why you’ve found comfort in him so quickly, you think. You understand him. He may be a captain, he may be pack alpha, he may be a leader, but he’s not in control. Not completely. There’s still someone behind the scenes, pulling the strings, telling him where to go, what to do. Someone’s pointing him in a direction and it’s his duty to follow.

You were never going to be in control. You were born a subordinate, and you had been cursed to always be one by your presentation. Your entire life would be dictated for you, by someone telling you what to be, how to act, where to go, what to do. There would always be expectations for you, someone behind the scenes pulling the strings.

Your presence here is full of expectation. You weren’t just bonding with a pack as your duty, there was expectation for it. You had been sent here with a purpose, leading an initiative that could shape the future of many omegas to come. You’re not just an omega chosen by a pack that wants one.

You’re part of a government initiative. Your whole purpose is to see if adding an omega to a pack of highly trained soldiers really will improve their effectiveness and proficiency.

Falling in love with them is just a side effect of your own mission.

Love might be a strong word for it. It wouldn’t matter to those watching your progress if you hated them. You’re supposed to bond with them, be their omega. Prove that it’s worth it, that the strengths weigh out the potential vulnerabilities. Then hundreds of omegas stuck in institutes will be trained to follow in your footsteps.

You wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

You’re lucky they’ve been so good to you. You’re lucky you’re beginning to feel it, those spaces in the back of your mind that have been empty for years beginning to fill as your omega comes to accept her pack. The betas anchoring your omega, the alphas surrounding and protecting.

You'll do your duty. You'll bond with them. You'll mate with Price. You'll allow him to claim you. You'll be their good little omega.

It won't be the worst life.

They at least care about you. Gaz and Soap have shown interest in you and mating with you themselves. Ghost...you've got a long way to go with him still, but you're beginning to make some headway into earning his acceptance.

Price...Price has begun to show some interest as well. You've knelt for him, kissed him, allowed him into your space. He calmed your distress, bought you items to help make your space more comfortable. He scented a stuffed bear to help you nest.

He'll treat you nicely, or at least you hope he will. He'll lose himself to his rut when you go into heat, and you've heard plenty of horror stories. You know what to expect, from the best to the worst. You could come out the other side mated and content, or you could come out half mauled to death. There's no way of knowing. Price will be a slave to his instincts just as much as you will be.

You don't want it to be like that.

You don't want your first encounter with the opposite sex to be lost to the haze of your heat, something that could potentially put your life at risk. How long has it been since Price has had an omega? You know he has. He's too calm, too collected around you to never have had experience with one before.

Will he treat you well? How will he touch you? You can't imagine him as being a selfish lover, but you won't know. You won't know until you're dazed with lust as your body yearns for release, for an alpha's knot.

You could find out beforehand.

The thought has you sitting up in your bed. You could pursue that with Price before your heat starts. There's no rule that says you can't before your heat. You know there's omegas that don't wait. There's alphas that don't wait when omegas join their packs. Price could have taken you that first day if he really wanted to.

Would he have bent you over his desk? Done it in his room or yours? Would he have done it in the meeting room in front of the rest of the pack? Staked his claim like some primal alpha?

The thought has warmth pooling in your stomach. The mental image of Price taking you in front of the others, sinking his teeth into your neck as he stakes his claim, marking you as his.

“Fuck.” You breathe, clenching your thighs together.

You could ask. What's the worst he's going to say? No? You'll just retreat in shame and hide out until your heat begins in embarrassment. He was so willing to do what you wanted, what you asked of him. Would he say yes if you asked him? If that's really what you wanted? Does he want it? Does he want you?

All you have to do is ask. You're allowed to want things, to desire things. Everything you've asked for so far, you've gotten.

The heat between your legs only confirms it. You want this.

You want Price.

Your hands are shaking as you reach for the door handle. He had given you permission to enter already, but your nerves make it feel like you’re moving in slow motion as you wrap your fingers around the nob, turning and pushing inwards. His eyes are on you as you slip in, closing the door behind you. You can’t read his face as he sits there, staring at you in your baggy shirt and leggings.

“What’s eating you, pup?” He asks as he stares at you, watching you fidget nervously.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting your weight between your feet.

He reaches out a hand, motioning you closer. You approach his desk slowly, taking his outstretched hand. He guides you in front of him, lifting you to sit on the desk. He leans back in his seat, staring up at you. “You can ask me anything.”

You bite your lip, staring down at him. His hands come to rest on the edge of the desk on either side of you. It’s comforting, supportive, instead of constricting as it might have felt just two weeks ago. It only furthers your belief that you’re making the right choice, that this is what you want.

You stare down into his eyes, your hands coming to rest just beside his on the desk. “I want my first time with you to be before my heat.” The words come spilling out quickly, almost so quickly you’re not sure he caught them.

He stares at you, surprise flickering across his face for a moment before he’s back to the straight-faced captain again. “You’re sure?”

You nod. “I want to remember the first time. It’ll make me feel better after we...have to do it. I think...it’ll help me feel less like...I had to.”

Price moves just slightly closer to you, understanding shining in his eyes. “If that's what you really want.”

You nod, sliding your hands until they're resting on top of his. “It is.”

He turns his hands so can hold yours. “Saturday, then. Let me make you dinner and then we'll go from there.”

Your stomach flutters at his words, skin tingling as his thumbs rub the backs of your hands. “You want to wine and dine me first?” You ask playfully.

“Call me old fashioned.” He smirks.

“Maybe just old.” You mutter, shrieking out a laugh as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his lap. The chair creaks precariously but you know he'd break your fall.

“You want to take that back?” He murmurs, your face inches from his.

“Depends on what my punishment will be.” You say, your nose almost brushing his.

He chuckles deep in his chest, lips brushing yours as he speaks. “You'll have to wait for Saturday to find out.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly tf 141 #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #x reader #tf 141 x reader

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intoxicated-chan · 2 years ago

Note

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #angst #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spider man x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spiderman x reader

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venusstorm · 3 months ago

Text

𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐫

Declan O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Declan's assistant is hurt and confused by his sudden departure from Corinium. Upon a visit to his home, feelings unfold and truths become known.

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, pet names, daddy kink, spit kink, bathtub sex, breeding, mentions of reader having hair, claw marks, and bruises, finger fucking, choking, gagging, kissing, spanking, adultery

w/c: 3393

‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵

"Where the hell is Declan!" You burst through the doors of the O'Hara household, loud and furious. You didn't buy the "He’s sick" claim for a moment, no matter how often Baddingham kept spewing the lie out of his mouth. And when you questioned his truthfulness, he sent you down the hall to Vereker's office, alerting you that you would no longer be Declan’s assistant.

But you'd pull every last strand of hair from your head if you had to spend another second working for that asshole. And when that's gone, you'd start on your legs and then your arms, and perhaps a few eyelashes too. You ignored Tony's shouts as you left the office building searching for your true boss.

Which led you speeding through town, barreling through the countryside until you arrived at Declan’s grand estate. You banged on the door and when you were met with silence, your hands wrapped around the handle, pleasantly surprised when the door opened wide.

Without hesitation, you stride through the foyer and march up the staircase. The long corridor witnessed you shout his name, scanning every room until you find his office. The doors cracked open which obviously means he’s welcoming you right in.

"Declan! I swear to–" but his chair sits empty. A slew of papers and empty liquor bottles covered the surface. You squint your eyes in pure annoyance. If he's the reason you spend the rest of your week drowning out Verekers moans by fiddling your ears and banging your head against the desk, then he's in for it.

You sigh heavily as you turn around, heading for your next best guess. You envisioned him sneaking out drunkenly to a pub. Probably annoying the hell out of the bartenders because after his third drink, the man can’t shut the hell up. Or perhaps he's thrown himself into the woods to get eaten by wolves. You knew Declan, and when he hit rock bottom he crashed hard.

"That little shite doesn't know a goddamn thing."

The slurred words of Declan O'Hara ring through your ears. Like a siren call, you follow. He curses a fit of words, not once taking a breather. You follow the crude sounds until you reach another door. You don't bother knocking, he's far past the courtesy.

"Found me," he slurs.

"Oh, for fucks sake, Declan!" You shield your eyes from the obscene view. He sits in a bathtub, legs sprawled open with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. A bottle of beer is held tightly in his grasp and he doesn't seem to have any plans to let go of it.

"I didn't tell you to come in here" he grumbles. "Heard yer stomps from a mile away."

"Well, I was worried. And also pissed you left me with that blonde-haired devil. He fucks like a rabbit and not in a good way. Wouldn't be surprised if he catches a damn itch."

Declan scoffs. "He’s already infested."

Your hands remain shielding your vision, leaving you blind to the way he stares off into space, taking the final swig of his drink and muttering beneath his breath.

"Just come back please." You sigh.

The sound of glass clanking and rolling to the ground echoed around the bathroom. You jump from the sudden noise, tightening your hand around your vision. He rolls his eyes while delivering a mocking laugh.

"Hand me another bottle o'er there and I'll consider."

You stand firmly, scowling at his impossible behavior.

“Standin’ there won’t help, darlin’. Don’t know why you’re tryin’.” He exhales a cloud of smoke, the scent wafting towards your nose and meshing with the woodland scent of his bath soap.

“Just tell me where to walk” you quip.

Declan’s eyes dart towards you, his lips curling into an amused grin. “Y'might need to be able to see for that.”

You shake your head in defiance, “Just tell me where to walk.”

He’s no longer interested in the shitty beer he kept hidden in the bathroom. Instead, he focuses on how easily you fall into line for him.

"Go to the right."

You follow his command, stepping to the right without hesitation.

"Now go straight about five steps." You don’t question his directions, placing your full trust in his judgment.

"Yes, Sir." You do as you’re told, taking five small steps and pausing. "Now what?"

He groans softly at your admission, his length stirring as you patiently wait for his next directions. Your tone unleashed fantasies he kept hidden within the depths of his mind and if you stayed for another moment, he’d happily release every last one.

There's a moment of silence before he continues. "To the right once more and you've got it."

You blindly reach your hands outward but defeatedly grasp open air. "Declan? I don't feel it."

"Bend down a little, it's on the second shelf."

His eyes widen as the hilt of your skirt rises against your ass, revealing the lace garters decorating your legs. He takes a long drag, watching shamelessly as you shimmy to adjust the length, struggling to do so single-handedly.

Finally, you touch the slim neck of a glass bottle. "Oh! I found it!" You giggle excitedly.

Declan smirks. "Atta girl."

If you weren't too busy shielding your eyes from the outside world, you'd notice the way Declan scans your body. His gaze dropped from your face to the white blouse you wore. Half the buttons were undone but it wasn't like you could check. You stood in front of him like a temptress, all precaution flying out the window the moment he heard your soft laughter.

"Now how do I get back?"

He laughs breathlessly. "Same way you came."

"Uh okay." You attempt to retrace your steps. Mouthing his previous directions aloud until you're semi-close to the door.

"Now walk forward a few steps" he ushers.

You nod, walking carefully toward the sound of his voice. His eyebrows furrow with mischief as you approach, your steps growing wider and far too close to the edge.

The next sequence of events occurs in a blur. You tumble forward and the water splashes over the edge, coating the tiled floors as you fall into the bathtub. You squeal as the hot water warms your body, soaking your attire and revealing everything underneath to Declan's eyes.

"Asshole!" You shout. You attempt to stand only to wind up slipping and falling right back into place.

He presses his cigarette butt against an ashtray before grabbing your arms. He steadies you, dragging your body up against his with ease.

"And that's why we don't walk with our eyes closed."

"You didn't tell me to stop!" You're so enthralled in fury and he can't help but to revel in it. He can only smile as you curse, attempting once again to stand before accepting defeat.

"How much goddamn soap did you put in here!" You shake your head with bitter laughter. You lay back against him, your heart racing out of your chest as his arms find themselves on your waist.

An evident shift in mood affects the room. "Why won't you look at me?" He questions.

"Simple. You piss me off."

You shut your eyes even tighter, ignoring the way his length ghosted across your stomach. His chest hair was surprisingly soft, pillowing your head and causing your heart to beat a skip faster. You stay quiet as his hands drift away from your waist and towards your thighs, forcefully gripping them and dragging you closer to him.

"Then why'd you come here?" He retorts rather quickly.

"Tony. I'm sick of being ordered around by him."

Declan hums. "You didn't seem to have a problem taking orders a few seconds ago."

You whimper as he palms your ass, kneading it roughly. You place your hands against his chest, fighting the desire to give in.

“That’s different. I was helping a friend.”

His lips broaden into a smile at your select choice of word. “Friend?”

“Yes, Delcan. You’re my friend but clearly you could care less.”

He doesn't miss the bitterness in your tone. There was a hint of resentment that clouded your features. He saw it in the way you turned your head further away, limbs tensing against his touch.

"I care," he reassures.

"But you left me.” The vulnerable words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. “You caused complete chaos and rightfully so but you left without a word. I know I’m your assistant but I care about you, Declan. You always said we’d get out of that shitshow together and you left me.”

Truthfully, you grew attached to him, infatuated with a man whose brain met the greatness of his kindness. An unrequited love. You knew it was impossible for him to feel the same way but witnessing him leave without a word solidified your fears. You were merely his subordinate and nothing more.

Your disappointment reaches your tear ducts and unshed tears of despair begin to descend your cheeks. Declan doesn't hesitate to wipe them away, his thumbs swiping across your skin in comforting movements.

"There ya' go, darlin'. It's okay to be upset. I deserve it."

“Did you forget about me that quickly? You hadn’t even called.” You burrow your head into the crevice of his arm, still unwilling to face him.

Forget?

How could he forget when thoughts of you ran rampant in his head? He wasn’t one to take orders but anything you said rendered him defenseless. Despite being your superior it often felt as if he was learning from you. He’d do whatever you wanted without question.

He spent nights thinking of you, his hand wrapped around his aching size as he dared not to wake his sleeping wife. Muffling his moans, he thought of how you’d look in her place. How he’d tilt your head backward, kissing you languidly while pushing past your folds. He envisioned your sensual tone calling out his name, begging him to push harder, deeper, to which he’d obey. Following your every command because that’s all he craved to do. Gritting his teeth, clenching the satin sheets until he dreamt of filling you with his seed, no longer caring if his wife heard him murmur your name.

“I could never forget you.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that shutters your core.

Slowly you break free from your darkened corner, at last meeting his heated gaze. He stares at you with pure desire, eyes dark and glimmering with something farther than lust.

You take in his naked form, staring at the dark hair that danced down his stomach and covered his shaft. Water dripped from his hair, his typically sleek curls jostled and free. You couldn’t see what lay beneath his waist but you felt his heaviness against your stomach, throbbing with unmet need.

“You’re drunk” you rebuttal weakly.

He shakes his head, “M’perfectly fine.” He sobered the moment reality hit that your body was laid against his.

He waits for your next argument but it never arrives. The two of you stare in silence, subdued desires coming to light. Slowly you begin unbuttoning your blouse, stripping the wet cloth from your shoulders and tossing it onto the mat. Declan assists you wordlessly, his hands pulling down your skirt before reaching to unclasp your bra. He takes in this moment. Kissing your skin every time another item is removed until you sit exposed before him.

His hand caresses the back of your head, drawing you close enough for your lips to graze. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nod, stopping the furthest thing from your mind.

“I need words, darlin’. Are you okay with this?”

“I’m okay, Declan. Just…” Your brain turns into a foggy haze as you search for what you’d like to say. He grips your jaw, tilting it upwards to better meet your gaze.

“Just, what? It’s okay. I won’t be mad.”

You can’t seem to formulate the words to describe how you felt. His touch overwhelmed you in the best way possible. The fresh scent of his skin drowned your senses and feeling your most intimate parts glide against him took the entirety of your focus.

“I just need you.” Your soft tone stirs something animalistic inside of him. Without another wasted second his lips meet yours. It starts impulsively rabid, his tongue wrapping around yours while he pushes your head further into him. He groans into your mouth, eyelids fluttering closed as he gets lost in your taste. But then he goes slower, savoring the way your hips begin to grind into him as your kiss grows messy. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth until he drags his lips back over them.

Calling him desperate would be an understatement.

He pulls away regretfully, brushing the pads of his thumbs over your lips to clean his mess. You whine from the loss of connection, lips still parted and demanding him for more.

Declan chuckles, granting your wish and delving into your mouth once more. Your hips rock against him, willing his length to rise. The water sloshes back and forth as you grind against his stomach, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest eagerly. Your hand rests against his unshorn chest hair, envisioning gliding your wet cunt over it until he’s drenched.

“That’s it, darlin’. Use me.” He moans into your mouth, uncaring of how loud he was being.

“Hurts” you whimper. He pulls away once again, his hands finding yours beneath the water and directing them towards your heat. You jolt as his fingers graze your aching clit, “This what hurts, baby?” he hums. You nod, directing his fingers toward your puffy folds.

He tsks, “I think that’s your job, darlin’.” You hadn’t quite understood what he meant until you felt him direct your fingers inside yourself. Your face contorts with pleasure as you shove them inside without question, using his chest as leverage while you ride. Declan watches you carefully before sliding his fingers back against your clit, pressing it roughly.

“Your pretty button’s so swollen. Just wanna make it feel better.” He rubs small circles around your clit, slapping it roughly when he notices your eyes rolling backward.

“Look at me when you play with your pretty cunt.” Declan ignores the way his cock jolts against his skin, desperate to be buried inside of you. All he cared about at this moment was your pleasure, physically reassuring your place in his world.

“M’gonna cum” you whine.

You say his name continuously as he continues to toy with your clit, tugging and slapping it until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Declan wraps you in a confining hug as you shake against him, his hands rubbing the back of your neck as he talks you through your orgasm. You nuzzle into his chest, allowing his huge frame to provide you comfort. “D-” Your tongue teeters on the line of murmuring a word you knew you mustn’t say.

“Did so good for me, baby. That’s it, I’ve got you. Just ride it out, I’m right here for you.”

But your mind slips and the word comes flowing from your lips. “Daddy.” It was hardly above a whisper but Declan caught it nonetheless. He watches you curl into him, a level of trust in your actions that he knew he had to maintain forever.

You’re shaken from your haze as Declan taps his length against your cunt, a newfound look of pure hunger darkening his gaze.

Pre-cum drips down his length, the water washing away any evidence of his sin. He rubs his reddened tip against your folds, groaning loudly as you spread your thighs wider for him.

He drags you onto his cock, holding you upwards as you take his size. Your moans blend into one continuous sound as he fills you, stretching your walls as you claw at his back.

“C’mon baby, know you can take more, can you do that for me?”

You shiver as you allow yourself to bottom out against him, muffling a scream as he breaches you entirely. His eyes roll as he embraces your warmth, his arousal growing heavier. He stares down at where the two of you connect, your walls choking his cock and leaking downwards.

A wave of adoration washes over him before it becomes tainted with angry realizations. You sat beneath him, his perfect match. Someone who balanced him, calmed him, put up with him. And yet, he’s had to push his feelings away in the name of not causing a stir.

He’s angry that he’s trapped in a loveless marriage riddled with infidelity and fueled by his income. Trapped in this goddamn house that he could care less about. Angry that Tony dangled his career in front of him like a chew toy. And most of all he was livid that you weren’t the one sleeping next to him every night.

Declan shoves his hips forward, bouncing you on his length. “So fucking tight” he grits through his teeth. You clench around him, your wetness welcoming him even further. The noises were obscene, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as your pussy squelched. He revels in it, fingers finding your sweet lips to shove them in between.

You witness the furrow in his eyebrows and undoubtable frustration. You meet his gaze, lips wrapping around his fingers and sucking. You take them deeper until they’re practically shoved down your throat.

“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking slut. You like this, don’t you? Bet you wish you were choking down my cock instead.”

“Uh huh,” you whine. You’d thought about it all the time. When he’d arrive to work angry, sitting at his desk with a pout. How you’d wanted to sink to your knees beneath him, hiding beneath his desk while you slid him down your throat. Muffling your gags as he answered the phone while stroking your hair.

He hooks into your cheek, widening your mouth so he can spit into it. He taps you, commanding you to swallow to which you happily oblige. You shake against him, tits bouncing freely. He grips onto them, slapping your sensitive nipples until they pebble in his fingertips.

“How does it feel, baby? You like being stretched out? Can barely keep your eyes open, can you?”

Pressing against your womb, Declan feels his length shatter your walls. He watches you fall into his broad chest, clutching onto his back while he holds you closely.

“Feels so good, daddy.” You whimper.

“That’s right, baby. Daddy’s got you. Gonna be my little cock whore amn’t ya? Surprised your little cunt could even fit. Just shows you're perfect for me, hm?”

“M’hm, perfect” you repeat.

He knows you're close, he feels it when your nails dig into his skin. Surely leaving marks that he wouldn’t feel the need to hide.

“You need to cum, don’t you, baby? It’s okay, nobody’s here. Just us. Let go for me, let Daddy feel you.” His pace becomes slower, pounding into you with deep thrusts.

Your vision blurs as you reach your high, shouting Declan’s name as you gush around him. He follows suit, your pulsating walls unleashing his heavy orgasm. He doesn’t relent as he shoots his load into you, locking you down as he fills you with his seed. He could care less about the consequences, nothing else mattered at the moment.

He captures your lips in his, taking short breaths to whisper how good you were for him. He suckles on your collarbone, leaving definite bruises to match the claw marks you undoubtedly left on his back.

“Let’s get you dry” he murmurs.

You nod, too tired to reply or move. Declan slides out of you, saddened by the loss of connection. He carries you out of the bathtub, his spend dripping from your pussy and leaking onto his leg. He clenches his jaw, fighting the desire to fuck it right back into you.

He wraps you in a towel, drying your skin before taking you into his bedroom. He sits you on the bed while he scourers his closet for something you could wear. Landing on an old college shirt that he refused to throw out.

As he slides it onto your body, he presses his lips against your forehead. A million words silently transcribe between the two of you. He’s unsure of what the future holds but he’s certain that you belong in his.

#Declan O'Hara x Reader #declan o’hara x reader #declan x reader #declan o'hara #rivals #declan fanfic #declan o'hara smut #rivals smut #rivals 2024 #rivals fanfiction #aidan turner #declan o hara x reader #declan o hara #I love his chest hair #like im so serious #biggest turn on #I want to drown in it #i love the Irish

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joeloverture · 1 year ago

Text

a lesson in condom sense | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist pairing: dbf!joel miller x sex shop employee!reader summary: [no outbreak] the last customer you expect to be waltzing into your secret day job is your dad's best friend. you can only fight the tension between you two for so long before giving in. warnings: (18+ mdni) what it says on the can: reader works at an adult store, many sex toys referenced (& used!), age gap (mid 20s/early 50s) brief mention of sex work, don't follow reader's example, joel buys a fleshlight, joel fantasizes about you, brief mention of bondage, mostly pwp, reader humps a chair + gets caught doing it, mild exhibitionism, 'just the tip' that leads into unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f!receiving), vaginal fingering, joel uses a vibrator on reader, degradation, praise, soft dom!joel, pet names, aftercare [no use of y/n] word count: 6.5k a/n: condom sense is, in fact, a real sex shop that exists and serves the DFW metro area, so not exactly austin, but the name was too perfect not to pretend. unlike these two, please favor condom sense and wrap it up. dbf sex shop joel won the poll for my next wip, but expect coach!joel pt. 2 to be right around the corner.

Admittedly, working at a sex shop isn’t the highest point in your life, but it certainly isn’t the lowest, either. The 40% off employee discount does soften the blow of lying through your teeth at cookouts. Saying you’re working at Walmart while trying to navigate a competitive job market goes over better than saying you work at Condom Sense.

All things considered, it’s not the worst place you’ve worked. Your manager, a 60-year-old stuck in the 70s named Sally, is much more lenient than your past bosses. You get to recommend toys to the girls that come through, and you also get the satisfaction of them coming back to sing your praises. Condom Sense never would’ve been your first choice of work right out of college, but now you almost mourn the day you’ll have to leave.

Thumbing through an old issue of Cosmopolitan, your bubblegum is beginning to lose its flavor. The tinny noise of Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” purrs out of the ancient radio sitting alongside tentacle dildos. It’s still a little weird to have a constant audience of whips, handcuffs, vibrators, fleshlights, and everything in between, but since your bedside drawer has gotten fuller with every shift you take, you really can’t judge anything stocked here.

The later shifts are normally slower, especially this close to 11:00. Sometimes there’s a gaggle of sex workers outside of the door, dressed skimpily no matter how biting the rare Texas cold is, but that isn’t the case tonight – you’re the only one here, feet kicked up on a pink stool.

As if the world has it out for you, the rust-eaten bell lets out a metallic jingle, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the thought of having to put your Cosmopolitan away. Who the hell comes into a sex shop twenty minutes before close? Someone whose vibrator gave out on them, someone who needs lube, or both.

“Welcome to Condom Sense,” you put on your customer service voice, reluctantly bouncing off of the stool. You flip your magazine shut and toss it onto the counter, breaking into a crouch to finally make yourself useful by restocking the condom display. “Let me know if you need anything.”

A small grunt comes in response, and then some heavy footsteps carry through the store. Great, even better, you think to yourself, it’s a man.

The crowd that’s attracted to Condom Sense is mostly college-aged or middle-aged women, not with too much wiggle room in between. It’s Texas, after all, where ownership of more than six dildos is “prohibited”. Sometimes there’s a stray overeager boyfriend or creep with a receding hairline, but normally Sally is right around the corner to tell anyone out of line to scram, waving around a broom as if trying to fend off a stray dog. That’s not the case tonight.

You hold your breath and keep putting boxes of Trojans into the glass display case. Whoever’s in here is quiet, at least, not the type to ask for help or make too much of a ruckus with knocking shelving units over. Hopefully you can get him checked out quickly so you can close up and head home.

You stay like that for five minutes, sorting through boxes and marking stock until a throat clears in front of the counter.

Jolting up, you smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes, fiddling with your nametag. “Hi, yes, you all seeeee-”

Who the hell comes into a sex shop twenty minutes before close? Apparently Joel Miller does. You know, your dad’s best friend.

Maybe it’s because you’re surrounded by phallic dildos, maybe it’s because you’re goddamn stupid, but Mr. Miller, who seems to be fresh off of a worksite, looks good. Even though there’s an unmistakable surprise stricken across his brown eyes and a splotch of dirt on the slice of neck above his flannel collar, his hair is mussed perfectly, his scruff tamed along his jawline. Your eyes flash down to what he’s holding: a fleshlight.

You hate how quickly your mouth goes dry at the thought of Joel himself thrusting desperately into the dumb toy, and worse is the thought of him using your cunt to get off instead. You’re quick to remind yourself. Off. Limits. First of all, you don’t fuck customers. And you definitely don’t fuck customers that are your dad’s best friend.

Joel’s fist tightens around the box as if trying to obscure what you already know. His face is redder than you’ve ever seen it, cheeks like apples. In the end, it’s him who speaks first. “This ain’t a Walmart, hun.”

Your face heats up, and you shrug. “Pays well.”

“Can’t blame ya there,” he nods along. “‘S been a while. You alright?”

“I mean, I work at a store called Condom Sense. What do you figure?”

“C’mon now, can’t be that bad,” Joel grins at you.

“It isn’t,” you concede. You look him up and down again, trying really hard not to spend too much time on the toy in his hand. “Long day… contracting?”

Joel lets out a long, winded sigh through his teeth. “Yeah… my guys fucked up our concrete job. Had us there two hours longer than we were s’posed to be. Probably gonna be another long one tomorrow.” He runs a hand back through his already disheveled hair, his nose flaring. “Not your problem though, sweetness.” His eyes flick over you, over the counter and the neon signs behind you. “Your daddy know you work here?”

You freeze, eyes widening. “He’d have a cow, Joel. And if you think you’re about to hold this over my head or somethin-”

“Woah, woah, now when did I ever say any ‘a that? That’s none of my business, hun. You’re an adult, as long as you're gettin’ paid and you’re comfortable? I don’t see the issue.”

You nod, heart slowing to a steadier pace, or at least as steady of a pace as it can manage with Joel standing on the other side of the counter holding a fleshlight. “So, uh, relaxing night in or…?” You swallow hard. Professionalism, you remind yourself.

Joel laughs, an almost nervous sound as he rubs the back of his neck. “Just… a bit dry lately, I guess.”

“First time buying?” you ask with a raised brow.

“That obvious?” He slowly slides the box across the counter to you, and you inspect it under the fluorescents.

You hum under your breath, tilting the box away from you to get a better look. “Not a bad first choice. I’ve heard good things. Since it’s your first time, are you more of a spit-in-your-hand kind of guy, or do you have some massage oil or lube?”

Joel stares at you, almost sputtering as his lips try to form words. “What?”

You shake your head, veins suddenly iced over. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t be asking-”

“No, no, not a problem, sweetheart. It’s your job. Just… don’t expect to be hearin’... that from you.” He chuckles, but it sounds strangled. “I… normally spit. ‘S faster.”

Joel, desperately shucking off his belt and pants, pulling his hardened cock out, spitting into his hand so he can wrap his fist around himself. That first groan of pleasure he lets out, hand moving up, down, up, down. He treasures his alone time so much that he has to be the type to savor it– but you can’t think that far. Your tongue darts out to swipe along your lower lip, and you swear Joel tracks the movement. Your chest is tied up in knots.

“Well, you’re gonna want a heating massage oil. Moves it along easier, feels realer, y’know?” You reach across the counter and pluck a blue bottle from the display. “This is our bestseller.” Mustering up the most casual smile you can give him without wincing, you tap your fingers along the countertop.

Joel looks between you and the bottle, gnawing nervously at the inside of his cheek. “Thanks, hun. That’ll be it, then.”

You ring him up, sinking the fleshlight, the oil, and a complimentary toy cleaner deep into a bag that says THANK YOU four times along the side. The printer buzzes as it spits out his receipt, and you hand it all to him. He gives you a nod, casual, simple. You could keep it that way, a tiny interaction isolated to the four walls of Condom Sense, but you feel the words knocking at the backs of your teeth.

You’re saying them before you can second guess them: “Enjoy yourself, Joel.”

He makes eye contact for what must be the first time that night, eyes murky with something that, if you were more gullible, could come across as want. “I will, sweetheart.” Joel nods, wrapping a large hand around the bag. You don’t watch him leave, but you do hear the ring of the doorbell as the door knocks shut. It’s not enough to distract yourself from thinking of what his moans sound like.

Joel sweats like a whore in church the next time your dad calls him. He practically is one when he thinks about what it’d be like to be inside of the divinity of your body, a rosary of sweat collecting on his neck. He’d say every prayer if it meant he got to keep thinking of you like that – feels realer, a spit-in-your-hand kind of guy, enjoy yourself. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy yourself.

It’s shameful, the way he thinks of you, the daughter of the man he considers his best friend. But he can’t make himself stop. Every time he pulls the fleshlight out of his drawer, you appear in his head. Sometimes you’re bent over the counter, whining as he rolls his hips into yours. Sometimes he rucks up those fucking skirts you wear to shove his face between your thighs, lets you soak his face as you pull his hair. Sometimes you’re riding him, moving how he shifts the fleshlight over his leaking cock.

Every time, regardless of what he imagines, he shakes himself loose in post-orgasm bliss, guilt chewing at his stomach. Every time he passes Condom Sense on the way to a job, he wonders if you’re working. What’s a respectable amount of time to stop in for a second sex toy purchase? Joel wouldn't know, and he doesn’t want to be selfish. Money doesn’t grow on trees, unlike his arousal. The fleshlight is already miles better than his own hand, and he worries what he might say if he sees you bouncing around, say, restocking dildos.

He manages to keep his self control. He doesn’t get on his knees and confess his sins to your dad on the phone, or when they run into each other at home depot. By some miracle, he doesn’t get any further than flicking his turn signal before immediately turning it off when he passes Condom Sense.

And then he has the dream.

It’s his day off, a Sunday, and he wakes up to his dick softening and his cum drying on his abdomen and all of the hair spattered there. There’s traces of the dream in reach, tugging on the harness he’d tied around your body to pull you back on his cock.

This time, he can’t shake himself loose.

He’s standing in Condom Sense by ten in the morning, running his hands down his sides and feeling oddly exposed, as if every camera or wandering employee can see the shame painted on his skin much like his cum had been. He hopes you’re not here; he’s not sure he can handle it, but he is sure of the arousal that would brim in his lower belly at the mere sight of you. It’s bad news – everything about this is bad news.

You’re bad for Joel, and you have been ever since he saw you for the first time after your college graduation, partying in your old man’s living room. Four shots deep and a feather boa around your neck, wearing a low-cut top as you scream-sung Dolly Parton into the busted karaoke machine from your childhood. That was the first time he ever saw you as anything more than your dad’s little girl. It should’ve been the last, too.

Joel takes a relieved breath when there’s no immediate sign of you in the store, but you very well could be squatting behind the counter like last time. There's a woman in a pink polo shirt with bangle bracelets standing over by the wall of ropes, reorganizing and sucking on her teeth.

He doesn’t even know what he’s here for – he’s chasing something he can’t have, or at least a semblance of it. The obvious choice is the restraints from his dream, but he has nobody to put them on, no skin to feather with kisses as he pulls them secure. Another fleshlight would be greedy.

And then he hears it. The unmistakable sound of your voice, a shockwave to his chest. He slips behind a display, almost ready to make a beeline for the door when you say, “We restocked the wands.” Joel glimpses you through the grid of butt plugs he’s hiding behind, where you’re waving around a rectangular white box. “You were asking for recommendations, right? Well, this one’s a trooper.”

“That so?” your co-worker clicks. “Might be too intense for me. You’re known to be an overachiever.”

“No shame in a little overstimulation,” you shrug.

Joel slams a fist on his chest to stop himself from hacking out a surprised cough. His thighs go hot, a warmth that spreads between them and tightens his pants as he thinks about you with a wand to your glossy clit, hips squirming for more and less all the same.

“Yeah, for you. I’d be bawlin’ into my pillow in two minutes.”

“It’s my favorite! Only just gave out on me yesterday… had her for years, though. My old faithful. Have to say, it’s a little rough waiting for my next paycheck. Nothing else does it for me. Feels fucking incredible.”

Joel walks out. Not because he wants to, but because if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to stop himself from spending almost a hundred dollars on that wand and handing it to you in broad daylight. It occurs to him on the uncomfortable drive home, hard and throbbing between his legs, that he wants to be the source of your pleasure, to make you feel good.

It’s a damning thought for a man like him, but not damning enough.

Pent up is one way to describe the way you’re feeling.

After the unfortunate passing of your trustworthy wand, your fingers nor the rest of your collection of comparably wimpy toys, have been able to do the trick for you. And the worst part of it all? Your paycheck is still three days away.

You’d like to say not getting off in four days is the source of all of your arousal, but you’re not a liar. At least, not to yourself, because you wouldn’t stand at the podium and confess your nastiest Joel-centered fantasies to his face. It’d been bearable when it was only him fucking the fleshlight taped to the backs of your eyelids. You blame it on the pervy part of yourself that’s always rubbed her thighs together from watching a man get himself off. It’s no longer bearable when you start envisioning him moaning your name while he rocks his hips into the toy, chasing his release.

No, it’s not bearable at all.

Sitting behind the same counter you’d checked him out at makes it worse, roughly the same hour of the night that he’d popped in the other day. You keep thinking of how he looked at you, first caught like a deer in headlights, then almost shy, a word you’d never once use to describe the man you’d come to know as your dad’s best friend.

An even more pervy part of yourself, the same one that hopes he thinks of fucking you when he fucks his recent purchase, slowly rolls her hips into the stool. It’s imperceptible, not something that has a chance of being picked up by the camera. You grind your clothed, needy pussy onto the pink vinyl cover, smothering a whimper into your fist. The seam of your shorts catches on your clit, snuggled between your folds. Your arousal clings to the gusset of your drenched panties. Pleasure spools in your stomach, winding around your cunt and spine.

You curl in on yourself, burying your head into your folded arms and panting as you grind on the stool. You let yourself pretend it’s Joel’s lap; the mound-like shape of the foam beneath isn’t at all close to what Joel’s bulge must feel like, but with every press of your hips, it matters less and less.

The taboo of it all, knowing you’ll have to go into the security system and delete the footage once you’re done soaking the vinyl, being in view of the unlocked door, is doing just as much for you as your vibrator back home would. So much so that with your head tipped low, your eyes squeezed shut, and your hips canting back and forth, you don’t even notice the rusted rasp of the bell above the door.

You don’t notice a damn thing until a strangled sound comes from the front of the store.

Your head snaps up so fast that you go toppling off of the back of the chair, just barely able to catch and prop yourself up on a shelf behind the counter. An embarrassed cough knocks its way out of your gut. Too taboo. You’re still panting when you’re stricken by a passing thought: you’re definitely going to lose your job, the last one this part of Austin seemed to have to offer. Shit.

Your dignity on the other hand is long gone, somewhere in the smear of arousal you left on the stool. “Sorry – fuck! I’m sorry,” you blurt out in a last-ditch effort to keep your job, fingers crossed that it’s someone who understands or at least doesn’t care.

When you look up, you get none of that. For the second time this week, you get Joel Miller. Joel Miller with his messed up hair and work-worn hands, slack jaw and rapid blinking.

You must be matching his expression now, mouth opening and closing with your eyes widened in the ultimate form of disbelief. Your head bows and your chin meets your chest. Apparently it wasn’t enough for your dad’s best friend to buy a fleshlight from you. He also had to find you getting off in public.

“Joel, shit, I’m so sorry,” you start, planting the heels of your palms on your temples. Your legs feel weak, a death sentence with your sluggish, blistering heartbeat. Joel’s silence bears down on you, an inescapable weight, and you’re talking before you can stop yourself. “I– I’ve just been so pent up…” Cheeks burning from the inside out, you scrub your hands from your forehead to your chin.

“Shut up,” Joel says stiffly. A wince cleaves its way out of your body.

Another apology sits on your tongue. “I’m s-”

He cuts in, “Knock it off,” and that’s when your eyes drift lower. Below his belt buckle, but not much further. How could you look any lower when his cock is rock fucking hard in his jeans, fighting against the denim? You whimper, unable to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together. “Jesus, are you in fuckin’ heat?” Joel snaps.

It doesn’t achieve the desired effect – you just let out another whimper, your arousal still clinging to your thighs. “Joel, please.”

Joel pinches his nose bridge. He shakes his head, dissolving into a muttered swear under his breath. “No, hun. Not gonna end up balls deep in my buddy’s little girl, even if you beg real pretty for me.”

“Why not,” you practically whine, pushing off of the shelf and walking closer to him. He only folds his arms over his broad chest as if to keep you away.

His voice is strained. “Baby–” Your heart flutters. “Can’t do that to your dad. You’re just houndin’ after a poundin’, ain’t ya?”

“I am,” you huff, brain clouded by the arousal that’s currently casting a shadow through all of your being. “Please, I haven’t come in days.”

Joel hisses at that like he’s in pain. He shakes his head again, much faster. There’s a line of remorse pressed between his brows, but it’s far overpowered by the pressure of his cock pulling his jeans taut. “Your little ‘massager’ quit on you, sweetheart?”

You bite your lip. Right on the money. “How’d you know?”

“Came in for… somethin’... the other day. Heard you fussin’ about it to your co-worker.” He shrugs.

You’re burning up, a match struck against the gritty concrete of Joel’s voice. It doesn’t matter that he’s a customer, doesn’t even matter that he’s buddies with your dad. You just want him to replace your aimlessly working fingers at night. You want release, and you want it with him. Begging won’t get you there with Joel, you’re realizing, even if all you want is to get on your knees and cry for his cock. You need to rile him up until he breaks. “Needed another pocket pussy to put your dick in?” you tease.

“Watch yourself,” Joel says. “You really that cock starved, darlin’, that you’d beg your daddy’s friend to stick it to ya?”

“You’re one to talk,” you smirk. “What is it you said? A bit dry lately, right?”

“I clearly got more self control than you, hun.”

You say, “Nah.” Your smirk widens, and you take another dangerous step towards him. “You’re hard as a rock, Joel Miller. Bet you were thinking about sticking it to me all along. That’s why you came back, huh? Get another glimpse of me for your spank ban-”

Joel seals the distance between you two, fist going to curl up around your jaw and squeezing. Your mouth pops open, a choked whimper dislodging from your lips. “You got batteries behind that register?” He asks, voice stern. His eyes are all pupil, plunged into black. You struggle to nod in his grasp. “Grab ‘em.”

He leaves you standing in front of the door, buzzing with nervous energy as he walks towards the vibrator section. Your stomach does what feels like ten cartwheels in a row. You lean over to the door, flipping the sign to closed and drawing the curtain shut before practically jogging to the batteries.

You grab the type your beloved wand takes, not even concerned with cashing him out before he’s in front of you again, slicing into the box with his truck keys. You slide the batteries over, and he’s peeling apart the plastic to expose your favorite pink wand, armed with six different settings that never fail to make you come. You only notice you’re rubbing your thighs together again when he gives you a sharp look while he’s popping the batteries into the proper compartment.

He pats the counter. “Up.” You hop up, maybe too eager, your eyes big and needy. Joel grabs you by the shoulder and leans you back, starting to work on the button of your jeans. “This is how this is gonna go,” he says, voice hardened with an order. “You want me to stop, say so. I’m gonna put this wand on your achy little clit, gonna make you feel better, because you ain’t slutty enough to be humpin’ a chair.” You nod so fast that you’re surprised your head doesn’t fall off. “Not gonna give you my cock, got it?”

“G-got it,” you get out shakily. He taps your hip, and you arch off of the counter so that he can yank your jeans and panties down, leaving you spread out and exposed.

Joel spreads you with his pointer and middle finger. “Shoot, baby, you poor thing.” He runs a thumb through your seam, thumb coming up sticky with your wetness. “Drippin’ like a faucet.” He brings his thumb up to the corner of your lips, and you greedily take it into your mouth, tasting your musk off of his callouses.

“That’s it, suck it like a good slut,” he coaxes as you run your tongue along his skin. He pulls away with a pop and weighs the wand in his hand. Flicking one of the buttons with his freshly-sucked thumb, the toy whirrs to life and thrums in his large hand.

You squirm below him and his intense gaze, gripping the edge of the counter for any semblance of purchase you can get. Without warning, he places the toy down onto your clit. Your vision crackles black at the edges as you cry out. You writhe underneath him, hips helplessly bucking. Joel laughs, the bastard that he is, and rolls it along your sensitive nub. It moves freely with the help of your wetness, and even on the lowest setting, it’s more than you thought it would be.

It helps that Joel’s the one using it on you, knowing just went to add extra pressure and lift up, and it also helps that you’ve been untouched by even yourself for the majority of the last week. You push your palms down on the counter and desperately grind your hips against the wand’s head. Your head lolls back, the neon signs on the wall behind you shining on your sweat-slick skin.

Joel flicks between two of the settings, a constant push and pull between low and a little higher, the sort of sensation that has your stomach stirring. “That feel good, hun? Better than rubbin’ this needy pussy on that stool, I bet.” You let out a pitchy sound of half-disagreement, half-pleasure in response, managing to push yourself up on shaking elbows to get a good look at him. He’s still hard, if not more than he’d already been, rolling the wand in easy motions against you. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. Not a bad thing that you only think with your cunt. ‘S cute,” he coos at you. His words make you gush.

“M-more,” you rasp, hips stuttering. You crave more, more of him, even though he’s already denied you that much. There’s a supernova of need flaring inside of you, enough to crack your lips into a ragged moan. Your cunt tightens, squeezing out more of your arousal. You crave him inside of you, buried deep and rolling his hips into you. “Joel, I need – need your cock.”

He turns it up, notches it to a faster pace that engraves pleasure onto your swollen clit. “No you fuckin’ don’t. Quit your mealy mouthin’ and take what I give you. You were ‘bout to spray your whore cum all over that chair, this should be more than enough.” Joel punctuates his sentences with hard jabs of the wand against you, drawing pathetic moans from your chest.

“J-J-Joel! Fuck!”

“J-J-Joel,” he mocks above you, shaking his head. His dark hair flops around with the movements and his tongue sneaks out to lick his lips while he watches you quiver below. “Yeah, you’re in heat alright.” Joel’s hand goes to the hem of your shirt and yanks it up, and your trembling hands help him lower the cups of your bra so he can grab and knead your tits.

His thumb circles your nipple when he turns it up to the highest setting, the one that makes your clit go numb and your back arch. You hardly have time to choke out, “Cl-close!” before Joel rubs the wand just right.

As your orgasm soars through you, you can hear him saying Attagirl, give it to me, so pretty when you come through the veil of your hearing’s fuzziness. You whimper, still rolling your hips as your fingers clamp around his over your tit, and he rubs circles into your palm while you ride it out. “That’s it,” he says when you come down fully, starting to shiver away from the pressure of the vibrator. He lowers it until it stalls in his hand and sets it down on the packaging.

“Good?” he asks, reaching up to stroke your cheek.

“Good,” you nod with a tiny little sigh.

You manage to haul yourself up fully onto your elbows, thighs still trembling. When you look him up and down, you notice two things: there’s the tiny etching of guilt in his eyes, but his cock is definitely still hard. Joel breathes out your name when you reach for him, cupping his sizable bulge through his pants. He hisses. “Can’t be doin’ that, baby.”

“Why?” you ask, lips contorted into a pout. “Because you’re scared you’ll bend me over and fuck me?” You feel his cock twitch under your hand. His resolve is breaking, and you’re loving it. “Just the tip, Joel.”

He winces from your words, but he looks at you, right down to your still-dripping cunt where your release trickles down your inner thighs and your seam. When you spread yourself out for him like he had done and run your finger tip along your opening, that seems to be the last straw. Joel curses under his breath and g0es to make quick work of undoing his belt with one hand, his other still holding yours. “Ju– just the tip,” he reiterates, voice stony.

Joel pulls himself free, groaning when his cock springs up. A noise of surprise catches in your throat when you see him in full. He’s even bigger than he looked in his jeans – which you had no idea was possible. “Don’t worry, darlin’. Just gonna give you the tip, remember?”

“Yeah,” you exhale on a shaky breath.

Despite his insistence, he still reaches out for the condom display next to you, already popping a box open. You grab his wrist urgently, shaking your head. “Don’t need one. Want – want you like this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he says, still holding the box. “I mean, hun, this joint is literally called Condom Sense. Oughta have some, shouldn’t we?”

“Don’t care.” You gather some of your cum on your fingertips, wrapping them around his head so you can brush over his slit. His hips jump, a dead giveaway to what his answer will be.

He grunts, tossing the box somewhere off to the side. “You protected? Clean?” You nod, victorious. “Alright,” Joel sighs. Apparently coming all over his fleshlight isn’t enough, because Joel bends over the counter and dips his head to press his lips against your clit, kissing before he sucks gently on it. You yelp, but quickly feel that heat returning and sparking in your core. He licks at your entrance, swirling his tongue around. “Taste fuckin’ delicious, baby.” You have a feeling he isn’t prepping you for the tip anymore, even more so when he pulls back to feed your cunt two of his fingers.

You whine, desperately rolling your hips down against his thick fingers, fucking yourself down on him as he opens you up properly. He curls his fingers, rubbing that spongy spot inside of you. Your stomach twitches. “That it?”

“Mhm,” you whine, and he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, always sure to brush your g-spot. The heel of his palm slaps against your clit and you whine, looking at where his fingers fuck into you. It’s an obscene view, his knuckles drenched in your juices while you clench down around him.

“Good girl,” he sighs when he finally pulls his fingers from you. He gets a good grip on his cock, rubbing the head through your slippery, sensitive folds. He coats it in your arousal before notching it at your opening. When he pushes in, he stays true to his word so far, but the tip is enough to make the room spin all over again. You squeeze down on him and he groans a rough, “Fuck. So goddamn tight.”

His words make you clench again, and his head tips to meet your shoulder blade, body poised at an awkward angle while he fights to stay at least partially outside of you. “Didn’t expect you to feel this fuckin’ good, sweetheart. So fuckin’... good.” He gives you shallow thrusts with the tip, just barely enough to slip in and out of you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as if trying to keep himself quiet, trying to steel himself into remembering who he’s on top of and who he just made come.

“Joel,” you whine, carding a hand through his hair and tugging lightly until he brings his eyes on you. “Fuck me.”

For once that night, it’s enough. With his eyes on you, he eases into you, groaning with every inch he gives you until he’s bottomed out in your cunt. With all of Joel’s prepping, there’s no pain, only the fullness of what it’s like to throb around him, to leak down his cock. Your fist tightens in his hair when he pulls out of you only to slam back into you. You look down where his body almost covers yours, and through your silhouettes, you can see the stretch of your arousal sticking to his happy trail, stretching between your skin. The room does spin, now, a blur of pink and pleasure.

Joel says, nipping at your ear, “This what you wanted? Wanted me to stretch you out, make you take my cock like the whore you are?” He rolls his hips into yours and effortlessly finds your g-spot like before. Your legs scramble for purchase, wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against you. His happy trail, spattered with your arousal, rubs against your clit. You grind your hips down, dig your nails into his biceps, desperate to meet his thrusts. When you don’t respond, he pinches your nipple, and your legs wind even tighter around him in surprise.

“Yes! Wanted it – wanted it when you first walked in, fuck,” you whine.

Joel smirks into the place between your shoulder and neck, kissing up the expanse of your skin. “Horny little girl. Bet you went home so excited to put that wand on your pretty clit, only to find out it quit on ya.” You can only moan, boneless and foggy underneath him as he rocks his hips into you. “Fucked my fleshlight thinkin’ of you, but I bet you already knew that, didn’t you? Wanted to bounce you on my cock so bad. Fuckin’ choking me like I knew you would.”

“Fuck me like you fucked it, then,” you say in a rush, your whimpers still poking through your sentences. “H-hard, Joel, want it rough.”

Joel grunts, twitching inside of you from your request. “Shit, can’t say no to ya. Gotta have… gotta have a goddamn death wish or somethin’, baby.” With that, he finds a punishing, ravenous pace, the filthy noises of his body slapping against yours filling the store from wall to wall. He grins. “But you like it, dirty girl. Can feel ya gettin’ close. C’mon, gimme another, baby.”

You come with a cry, soaking his cock, eyes watering from relief while you grip him. Warmth seeps into your bones and turns your brain to mush, electric from dopamine. You go limp on the ledge while he continues fucking into you, voice filling your ears, “That’s it, that’s my girl, fuuuuck, way better than that fleshlight. Shoulda bent you over the counter and fucked you that first night.” You moan at the thought, pussy still clenching his cock.

You’re too busy coming to notice him reaching to the side, retrieving the long-forgotten wand. You could scream when he touches it to your clit again on the medium setting, and then your thighs are shaking around him even stronger and you’re coming for the third time that night, launched from one orgasm straight into another with Joel hovering over you, still fucking into you. “Fuck, again?” he asks, voice layered with disbelief. “Such a messy pussy, baby. Drippin’ down my thighs. Gonna make it even messier, pump you full ‘a my cum, sweet girl.”

Your vision whites, palms slapping on the counter before he wraps his hand back in yours like before to ground you. You squeeze his hand and moan in response. He turns the vibrator back to low and keeps rolling his hips into you. “Close, baby, gonna shoot this load up your pretty pussy.” Joel’s forehead drops to the counter, still mouthing at your neck when you feel him jerk inside of you. You feel the warmth of his cum spill into you while you still flutter around him, his debauched moans filling your ear as he empties himself into your cunt.

Both of you are breathing heavily by the time he pulls away from you, you laying down on the counter and staring at the ceiling tiles. They’re unfocused and blurry in your post-orgasmic bliss. You blink yourself back to reality, giving him a look with your hooded, tired eyes. His chest rises and falls, mouth and softening cock smeared with your cum. He’s looking at you with the same eyes you’re giving him, something crossed between incredulity and shamelessness.

Joel fishes around in his back pocket before finding a red flannel handkerchief, which he’s careful to dab at your inner legs. You’re both silent until he separates from you with a peck to your forehead. “Did good for me. You’re, uh… really somethin’, sweetheart.”

You grin at him. “That mean this is gonna happen again?” You ask as he tucks himself away and buckles his belt. You stuff your tits back in your bra, pulling down your shirt and securing your pants and shoes from where they’d long fallen into piles on the floor.

“Don’t jump the gun, baby.” He rubs the back of his neck and licks his lips. “But I ain’t rulin’ it out.”

A cocky smirk tugs at your lips, and you hop fully off of the counter, tugging your jeans up your waist. Joel taps the vibrator box when you’re all done. “Cash me out?” he asks, stuffing the handkerchief back in his pocket and grabbing his wallet instead.

You nod, scanning the damaged vibrator box and batteries and reading off his total. You bag up the soaked vibrator, the on-the-house toy cleaner, and the rest of the batteries he’d bought. “Here you go,” you say, holding it out for him.

“Nah, hun. That’s for you. What use am I gonna get out of a vibrator unless it’s makin’ you come?” He pats the back of your hand and slides the bag across to you again.

You stare at him, fighting not to let your jaw loosen. “Joel… that’s a lot of money.”

“And you deserve to come as much as you want, got it, pretty girl?” He smiles at you with a shrug as if he hadn’t just wrung three out of you within an hour. “Besides, you have my number. You know who to ask if you ever need someone to talk you through it.”

You choke, nodding dumbly at his proposition. So definitely not ruled out.

“Thank you,” you say, bringing yourself to match his smile.

He gives your hand a squeeze and says, “See you later, sweetheart,” before heading out.

And sure, this entire thing is a tornado that could toss up your life like a trailer park, but for Joel? You’d let it happen.

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