#because i will forget her last name immediately

[luvhcarly]

the council would like to request a part 2 to tell me how much u want it

PUT THAT SMART MOUTH OF YOURS IN A GOOD USE.

previous part

After you break up with your boyfriend because you found out he cheated on you again you find yourself infront of his apartment with tears streaming down your face, even though you told him that you should keep it professional…

PAIRINGS: dom!san x fem!reader

GENRE: smut, professor x student, college AU

TAGS: smut, p in v, cheating, cum swallowing, oral (m receiving), San is mean and toxic towards reader, age gap (San is in his 30s and reader is 22), angst, use of pet names (love, slut), swearing, kind of manipulation, San is obsessed with reader and can’t let her go, dirty talk, mention of divorce!, lmk if I missed anything!

WC: 7.3k

A/N: I wanted to thank you guys for the love on the previous part! I decided to give you part 2 of this so enjoy!

Reminder! English is not my first language if you find any mistake lmk!

© All rights reserved luvhcarly do not copy, repost, or translate.

You knew it would be a mistake to step into his office, but you couldn't ignore it. A few weeks have passed since what happened and clearly you couldn't stop think about it, but at the same time you felt guilty. You cheated on your boyfriend even though you basically just paid him back. Well, it wasn't you. You never did such impulsive things. You didn't tell anyone about what happened, despite the fact that your friend suspected you of something.

"Come in." You were snapped out of your thoughts by a man's voice that sent chills down your spine. You took a deep breath and stepped inside, immediately meeting his gaze, which you couldn't quite place. He was sitting on a chair and his hands were on the table, as if he was waiting for you to sit down. As soon as you looked around the room, you remembered everything that happened. The way he fucked you against the desk, the way he told you words that you would like to hear again.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" You put your thoughts behind your head and broke the silence that was between you two. He laughed at your 'sir' and shook his head. He pointed with his hand to the place in front of him for you to sit down and so you did. You sat down on a chair and put your hands on your thighs and cleared your throat nervously.

“Weeks ago you called me San, now you call me sir, again.” With a raised eyebrow he said as if he wanted to indicate something, but you didn't know exactly what. He sighed when you remained silent at his words and he leaned his body more against the seat, not taking his eyes off you. San scanned you, your hair was down and you were wearing a t-shirt that once again hugged your body too well. He cleared his throat when he realized that thoughts lead where they don't belong, but damn why did you have to look so fucking good. Your lips were slightly parted as if you were about to say something, your eyes looked at him with that look that drove him crazy.

"I think-" You took a deep breath and looked at him. "I think we should forget about what happened. It could affect my studies and-" if he was telling the truth, he really didn't expect this. He was expecting something like it shouldn’t happen again or that you should be careful about this? Did he feel�� duped? Forget what happened? How the hell do you want him to forget?

“Yeah, It could affect my job so I agree.” But he did not argue and only nodded. He had nothing to say to you even if he wanted to scream at you, Kiss you and do it again and again without any consequences.

"That's all I wanted to talk about. You can go.” His words were sharp, toxic. Something inside you broke, your heart shattered as if you had been stabbed in the heart. Why did you want him to say something else? To say that he doesn't want to forget. That he wants it again and again.

"Okay." With those words, you stood up and turned around. Before you left, you gave him one last goodbye look and then left. You let him sit there, thinking about the fact that he should have stopped you and told you how he really feels. But he knew that he would hurt you and himself.

“Fuck-“ San mumbled under his breath and ran a hand through his hair, when you left. He didn't want to forget what happened, even if it was just an one time thing. He wanted to help you so that you wouldn't feel stupid that your boyfriend cheated on you, but rather he did it for himself because he couldn't stay away from you.

-

"Are you okay, babe?" Your boyfriend’s voice interrupted you when he noticed how you were playing with the food with your fork. Your expression was nervous, tired, something he hadn't seen in you that often.

"What?" You shifted your gaze from the food to him and swallowed loudly when he gave you a puzzled expression. "It's nothing just school stuff." You lied to him and gave him a smile, he nodded at your words and smiled back. Then there was a silence between you, which you didn't like that much, but you weren't in the mood to break it. Your thoughts were elsewhere. You were lost. You were lost in your own head.

“We should go on a dinner tomorrow, to take a break from the stress." He proposed to you with a nice smile and you took a sip from your drink, nodding at his suggestion and smiling at him. "Yeah, that would be great." You really weren't in the mood to go somewhere social, but you didn't refuse.

“Is something bothering you, y/n?” With that he suddenly asked and the fork fell from your hand to the floor. "I-..." you opened your mouth and were about to tell him everything that happened, but then you closed your mouth. “No. I am just tired as I said." That's the only thing you told him and he didn't discuss it further, even if he didn't believe you. Well, he wasn't planning on arguing with you or anything like that so he just nodded his head and continued to eat his food.

After dinner you lay down in bed and took your phone in your hand, your boyfriend was lying next to you and he was also on his phone. You decided to check whether the results of the tests you wrote last week had not arrived yet. Your eyes widened when you saw that you didn't pass his class.

Didn't pass.

How? He tutored you, you wrote everything correctly there. You furrowed your brows at that and your anger rose. What's his problem? You didn't understand it. And that’s why you stayed after his class the next day.

“Professor, wait!” You shouted as he left the classroom and you caught up with him with quick steps.

"I have another class, Ms. Y/n.” His words were again sharp without interest, as if he was telling to leave him alone that he was not interested in talking.

"It won't be long, I just-"

"We will discuss it tomorrow during class, if you have some problem." He stopped and turned to you. His brows were furrowed and he wore glasses. You swallowed loudly at his words and sighed.

"I-..." You opened your mouth and were about to say something, but then you nodded. Despite the fact that you were angry that you didn't pass his class, you suppressed your anger again. His expression made you feel the respect you had for him. "Okay." You said and he left without another word. When he was out of your sight enough, he let out a sigh that he didn't even know he was holding back. He knew that you probably wanted to talk about why you didn't pass. But his reason was simple. He thinks you have more in you than what you wrote in the test. That’s why he didn’t let you pass, or maybe there was another problem?

“Asshole.” You muttered to yourself as you slammed the locker shut and an annoyed sigh escaped your lips. He was acting strange.

"Who is an asshole?" Your friend's voice rang out and you jumped a little. You did not expect that she would be here and that she would hear you.

"You scared me!" You punched her on the shoulder and she laughed at your words, but then immediately gave you a serious expression.

"Who were you cursing at?" She asked again, her curiosity growing. You raised your eyebrows at her question and pretended that you didn’t say anything before

"What? No one." You gave her a smile, but she still didn't believe you, she already knew you very well. "Your boyfriend again?" She leaned against the locker and crossed her arms over her chest, patiently waiting for your answer.

"No, of course not." You blurted out quickly and she just sighed and bit her lower lip as if she wanted to tell you something.

“You are acting weird lately. Is everything okay?” She finally asked and you ran a hand through your hair and furrowed your brows.

"I'm fine! Why is everyone asking me that”You said with a raised voice and your friend sighed and shook her head. She didn't understand why you were suddenly so angry and nervous. You were never like that, you always walked around smiling, but now you looked like you were going through something. When you realized that you had raised your voice at her and that you are taking out your anger on her for no reason, you swallowed loudly and squeezed your eyes.

"I'm sorry... I'm just tired." You rubbed your forehead and looked at her. She had a disappointed expression on her face, as if she understood you. "Yeah, I get it. Get some rest, y/n.” With her hand she stroked your shoulder. "And stop stressing about school." She added and gave you a sweet, friendly smile, which you returned in return.

You were nervous all day, probably because of school. Despite the fact that you were not in the mood to go to that dinner with your boyfriend, you went. You went to a romantic restaurant together and sat down, talked and joked. You felt that it was the same again as before and your stress subsided. "I will be right back, babe." He stood up and you smiled at him from behind the glass and he directed his steps to the bathroom. At that moment, his phone, which had its screen facing downwards, started ringing. Somehow you didn't pay attention to it, but when the phone rang several times, you gave up. You looked around the restaurant to see if he was coming back, but when you saw that he was nowhere to be found, you picked up his phone.

"When are you going to break up with y/n?"

"Babe, I want you. Please?”

"Can you come over tonight, we could have some fun?" ;).”

You swallowed at the texts and a tear started to run down your cheek.

“I’m back-“ A voice came from behind you and you gripped the phone tighter in your hand and gave him a hateful look.

"Babe, It's not what-"

"Save it. I don’t want to hear it. You didn’t change.” Your voice was hateful and your words were sharp, he leaned closer to you and wanted to stroke your shoulder, but you pulled away.

"Can we talk about it? Everybody is watching us, y/n. Calm down." He looked around nervously when he noticed people's curious looks. You wiped your tears and picked up your jacket.

“No.” You muttered. "We are done." You said and he shook his head at your decision. With those words you left and left him there alone. As soon as you left the restaurant, you put on your jacket and hugged your body. Raindrops began to fall on your skin, which you let out a sigh. You didn't know where to go. Only one place came to your mind. His apartment.

Flashback.

“She signed the papers.” He informed you and looked up from the phone to you and measured you. You already had your skirt on and put your t-shirt back on. "That's great!" You gave him a sweet smile and he sighed but then smiled. He leaned his body against his desk and ran a hand through his hair before resting his hands over his chest.

"Yeah, it is, but I will have to move out."

"Move out? Where?” You blinked fastly at him being confused. He could hear in your voice that you were a little afraid that he would leave, but you didn't try to show it in any way.

"You know the new apartments just two blocks away from school?” For a small moment, you thought about his words, but when you remembered the new apartments nearby, you nodded.

"Well, I already have papers set for this but I waited if she would sign the papers and she did so." He usually didn't talk that much, but now he wanted to. He wanted to tell you everything that was on his mind, and it didn't bother you at all. You liked to listen to him and you were glad that he was saying something that was bothering him. San looked at you nervously, as if he realized that he might be talking too much, but your words calmed him down.

"The apartments are beautiful and I think that it's a great opportunity to start a new life for you." Your words were soft and kind, it warmed his heart. Maybe it's an opportunity to start something new. Something that will fill him and make him feel good. He gave you a smile and his thoughts took him where they probably shouldn't have. Well, for a few seconds he imagined that he lives with you, but then he immediately put it behind him. It's impossible.

End of flashback

“Y/n?” The door in front of you opened and he appeared there. His hair was messy and his eyes were tired, he was wearing a black oversized T-shirt and gray sweatpants. It was strange because you didn't usually see this on him.

"I'm sorry to barge in here like this but-" You stopped talking for a moment and took a deep breath. "I didn't know where else to go." Your hair was wet and so were your clothes. He had a surprised expression on the shapes that you were standing here in front of him, your eyes completely red and your mascara smeared.

"Come in." The words he usually spoke gave a completely different meaning to you. He stepped back from the door and let you in, taking your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it on the hanger to dry. He then directed his steps into the kitchen and you followed him, looking around the apartment with your eyes. It was nice and new. Everything was in white and black colors, which you would expect from him.

Without another word, he took a sip of water and leaned against the kitchen counter while you kept looking around. He could see from your shape that something was wrong, otherwise you probably wouldn't be here. But he was surprised that you remembered his words from a few weeks ago. He didn’t ask you what happened, he just looked at you with his eyes and then put the glass down.

You watched with your eyes as he left suddenly and then came back with a dry T-shirt and sweatpants. "Go take a shower." He ordered and handed you dry clothes. You nodded at his words and he let out a sigh. As soon as he pointed in the direction where the bathroom was, you directed your steps there. When you stepped into the bathroom, you smelled his usual scent and you swallowed loudly at that. Then you took off your wet clothes and stepped into the shower. Immediately warm almost hot water touched your skin and you tried to wash away all the bad thoughts and the anger you still had inside. You were a fool to think it wouldn't happen again. You naively thought that everything would be the same as before.

A small sigh escaped your lips as the same scene replayed in your head as you slowly scrolled through the screen of his phone and read the texts. You still couldn't believe that it happened so suddenly. You spent quite a long time in the shower, and he thought that something had happened to you, but when he saw that you got out of the shower. Your hair washed and his clothes on you. The shirt he gave you was a little bigger, and the sweatpants too…

San cleared his throat and he pushed you a cup of tea infront of your face, which you graciously accepted and sat down on the couch next to him. You took a sip of the hot tea and looked ahead. There was an awkward silence between you, as if you were both thinking of what to say. Well, the only thing you could say was:

"Thank you." You muttered and looked down at the cup of tea you were clutching tightly in your hand. You had the feeling that if you clenched it even more, it would shatter into a million pieces. Like you an hour ago. "I broke up with him." You suddenly blurted out and he immediately turned his gaze to you. He raised his eyebrows slightly at your words as if he didn't expect it.

"Sorry to hear that." He actually lied, he was glad you were not together. That you did it. Did he feel happy? Relaxed? He didn't even know how he felt, but he only knew that deep down he was glad that it was so.

“He did it again.” You added and he furrowed his brows. He didn't like it, but even more he didn't like that you were here and that you were saying this to him.

"Why are you telling me this?" You shifted your gaze from the tea to him and gently parted your lips. You didn't know what to say to that. A tear ran down your cheek and you wiped it away with the tip of your fingers and swallowed loudly.

"I'm just confused." He laughed, he didn't even know why, but he found this situation funny. "Yesterday you told me that we should keep it professional and now you are here. Crying.” His words were sharp and unpleasant. You put the tea on the table in front of you and shook your head at his words that he was right. But why didn't you feel it that way?

"You are right. I-" as soon as you started to speak, he cut you off.

"Are you doing this on purpose or what?" His eyebrows were furrowed and he had a strange expression on his features that you had never seen on him.

“What? No! Of course not I just-“

“You giving me those eyes during class, showing up in my apartment.” He shook his head at you, he didn't care that the tears were running down your cheeks more and more. He wasn't really interested at this moment because he wanted to understand why you were doing all this. What is your deal? Distracting him?

“Tell me y/n. Why?” He raised his eyebrows and stared at you, patiently waiting for your answer. "Because I'm curious. You just show up here crying and telling me the same shit over again.” He let out a sigh and you just stroked your brows furrowed and lips parted, tears still running down your cheek. "Expecting what? That I will tell you It's alright and some other kind of shit?" He chuckled at his words and ran a hand through his hair, leaning further into the couch. His eyes were fixed in front of him, but you were watching him. You watched his every move and listened carefully to his sharp words that came from the depths of his heart.

"that I will hug you and whisper lovely words to your ear?" He added and then got back into the previous position to see your face. He could see on your face that you were taken aback by his words and that you didn't know what to say. “Well, I am not that kind of guy, if you thought that I would do that.” You took a deep breath when he finally finished and wiped your tears again and stood up from the couch.

"It was a mistake coming here." You muttered and when you were about to leave, his words stopped you.

"Yeah walk away. That's what you are best at." He had his elbows on his knees and watched carefully as you turned sharply at his words, tears were no longer running down your cheeks, but he could see from your features that you were angry. Angry because of what he said.

“Says you. You walked away from your wife and almost cried at my fucking shoulder after you fucked me.” Your words were full of anger, you were like a ticking bomb. He got up from the couch at your words and stepped closer to you. His jaw clenched and his Adam apple bopping every time he swallowed.

"I fucked you because I saw that you were desperate, remember?" He said and you shook your head at his words, you knew he was right but still you didn't let it go.

"I let you because you were so desperate to fuck someone who actually gives a fuck about you." You spilled those words into his face and at that moment he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer, his hot breath touching your face.

"I can choose who I want to fuck, love. You would be surprised how many students came to my office and flirted with me. But I only fucked you, isn't that funny?" His words were ridiculous, he directly mocked you. He moved closer to your ear and his words sent a chill down your spine. "Should I remind you the words you said to me?" Your breath hitched and he saw it. He saw how you suddenly became nervous and also how a chill passed through your body, his words full of mockery and teasing. He knew very well the effect he had on you and he intended to use it very well.

"That I fucked you better than your boyfriend. Pfuu… y/n.” He pulled away from you to get a good look at you. "Tough words, right?" You swallowed at his words because he was right, but you still had no plans to stop throwing arguments at him.

"I only said that to make you satisfied and to boost your ego." Your words were funny to him so he just laughed at you and your stupidity.

"Your body said something else that time." San enjoyed how your body trembled gently and how his words always sent chills down your spine every time. But he thought it was very funny how you pretended that it had no effect on you and that you looked confident. “And now your body is saying something else too.” He shifted his eyes to your parted lips and how you immediately closed them and swallowed. You hated it as he had readen you from head to toe. How did he know what reacts to you and what doesn't.

“You asked why.” Out of the blue you changed the subject and his grip loosened on your wrist and he raised his eyebrows. He didn't understand where you were going with those words.

"What?" He asked you incomprehensibly and a small sigh escaped your lips, wondering if you really should say that. "I came because of you." You looked into his eyes and searched for something in them, maybe a hint of what he was thinking. That he feels what you feel.

"I came because I can't stop thinking about you. Fuck, you- you are driving me crazy.” Your words caught him by surprise and he immediately let go of your wrist and bit the inner corner of his mouth. “And fuck, yeah I expected you to hold me and tell me that it will be okay. I admit, okay? I even admit that I always walk away from the problems instead of solving them. And I’m sorry about what I said about your ex-wife. Fuck, I even admit that you fucked-“

“Just, shut up.” He interrupted you and immediately took your cheeks in his hands, using them to bring you closer to him and kiss you. Despite the fact that his words before were sharp and unpleasant, you let him kiss you. You wanted it. His touch on your cheeks was soft and warm and the kiss was soft and gentle. “You talk too much.” He said between kisses and his hands slipped to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss became more dominant and passionate, he ran his tongue over your lips and you opened your mouth and gave him the freedom to push his tongue into your mouth. His tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that belied his earlier resistance and you sighed as his hands slid to your ass and squeezed it.

He lifted your body by your ass and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Without breaking the passionate kiss, he carried you to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, leaning you against it. He let your body slowly slide off him and put one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek and caressed it gently. You slid your hand under his shirt and ran your fingers over his stomach, as he let out a shaky breath as your fingers traced his abs, his head falling back briefly. "Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," he muttered, quickly pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside.

“Yeah?” You asked him with a teasing voice still tracing your fingers slowly along his abs. "Yes, really," San growled at that, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head against the door, having enough of your teasing. He leaned in close, his lips barely brushing your ear. "One minute I'm pissed as hell at you, and the next..." He trailed off, pressing gentle kisses along your neck. “Then next I want to fuck you until the only word you remember is my name.” A slight moan escaped from your lips as he started to leave wet kisses along your neck.

His mouth curved into a satisfied smirk as he felt your body tremble against his. "Like that, do you?" he whispered, purposely leaving another wet mark just below your ear. His hands released your wrists, one sliding down to grip your waist while the other began pushing your shirt up, sending shivers down your spine. His cold hands touching your warm skin made you part your lips slightly and he noticed.

“So fucking sensitive," he murmured, his cold hand leaving goosebumps in its wake as he pushed your shirt higher. San broke the kisses on your neck just long enough to pull the shirt over your head and toss it aside, leaving you in just a lacy bra. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, half-naked and breathing heavily against the door. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a rough, passionate kiss as his hands reached behind you to unhook your bra.

“Mhm~” Being too desperate you moaned into the kiss as the bra hit the floor silently, freeing your breasts. He growled softly as your breasts pressed against his bare chest, one of his hands coming up to grope one possessively. Your moan echoed in his mouth, making him harder.

“Fuck- San, I need-“ he cut you off immediately.

“Shut up." San said against your lips before kissing you deeply again, swallowing any further words. His hand squeezed your breast roughly as his hips pressed against yours, letting you feel how hard he was already. Breaking the kiss, he nipped at your bottom lip. "Pants off. Now." You swallowed at his sharp words and you slowly pulled your sweatpants down, keeping an eye contact with him as he watched you carefully, enjoying how you obeyed him.

His gaze remained fiercely locked with yours as you peeled off your sweatpants, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you stood before him in nothing but in your panties. “Those off too. Come on.” Without breaking eye contact, he ordered watching how your body trembled every time. Slowly you pulled your panties down as he watched you with a smirk on his face. God he liked how you obeyed him every time.

“On your knees.” When those words left his mouth you swallowed. At first you remained in your place not being so sure but his voice was heard again. “Come on, love. Get on your knees for me.” His voice was low, demanding and you slowly slid to your knees, looking up at him. With a soft touch he cupped your cheek and grinned at the sight of you being in front of him on your knees.

His thumb gently stroked your cheek as he leaned down and whispered, "Isn’t if funny how minute ago you screamed at me that you let me fuck you just because I was desperate to fuck someone who gives a fuck." He kept eye contact while he slowly pulled his sweatpants down, a smirk playing on his lips as you watched him. “Now, look at you, y/n. You are here again. Obeying like a slut.” You swallowed hard at his words and your body trembled even more as you watched how he pulled his sweatpants and boxers down in one swift movement and your breath hitched as you saw him fully naked now. He was huge just like you remembered. Long and thick. He smirked watching your reaction. "Now, put that smart mouth of yours in a good use, will you?”

With a shy look on your face you brought your lips to his length and a shudder ran through him as your lips barely brushed against the tip. San groaned quietly, his fingers twitching against your cheek. "What did I say, love?" His voice was low, furious as he grabbed you by your hair roughly and he pressed himself against your lips, silently urging you to take him in.

As soon as you opened your mouth, he pushed himself in, filling your small mouth instantly. He groaned as he hit the back of your throat, pulling your hair harder to keep you in place. "Look at me." he growled, his hips bucking slightly to push himself deeper. With a small tears in your eyes you looked up at him through your eyelashes as he enjoyed the sight of you. He enjoyed how you fell apart on his cock.

San's eyes darkened with lust as he held your gaze, drinking in the sight of you trembling slightly, tears glistening at the corners of your eyes. He smirked, pleased by how perfectly you were submitting to him. "You look fucking gorgeous with your lips wrapped around my cock," His thick length pulsed in your mouth as he admired the view���your pretty lips stretched around him, taking him so deep. "Such a good girl," His grip tightened in your hair, holding you firmly in place as he slowly thrusted, savoring the slick heat of your mouth.

You moaned against his cock immediately sending shivers down his spine at that, then slowly you made your way with your hand to your wet core, the pleasure being too much but his words cut you off right away. "No...don't you fucking dare." He warned in that deep, authoritative tone you loved. With one quick motion, he grabbed your wrist, preventing your hand from reaching its destination. "Only my hands get to touch you there tonight, got it?" His hips thrust forward again, making you gag slightly. You let out a little cry at his warning words and San smirked as he watched you suppress your whimper, pleased by your obedience. Keeping a firm grip on your hair, he began to thrust more deliberately, each stroke pushing deeper into your throat. The wet sounds of your mouth working his cock filled the room, punctuated by his low groans of pleasure.

“So pretty.” He tilted his head back, savoring the sensation as he hit the back of your throat perfectly, but then he looked back down at you, seeing the slight flush on your cheeks and the tears streaming down your face. He was close, so very close to bursting apart in your mouth. "So good, just for me, yeah?”

You moaned again and he let out a shuddering groan as your moan vibrated around his sensitive cock, the sensation almost too intense. The sight of you squeezing your thighs together desperately, unable to touch yourself yet trembling with need, pushed him over the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna-" He threw his head back and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep in your throat and came undone, his hot seed spilling into your mouth as he let out a low, guttural groan. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out his release, eyes locked onto yours, intense and unblinking. You watched, mesmerized, as he came undone completely, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. "Swallow it, come on.” Without second thought you swallowed all his release, squeezing your eyes.

He let out another groan as he watched you swallow every drop like it was the best thing you've ever tasted. Your throat worked sexily as you swallowed, making his spent member twitch again. "Goddamn," He muttered softly, petting your hair gently now instead of gripping it harshly.

“Please.” A whispered please escaped from your mouth as you squeezed your thighs more. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you squeezing your thighs, desperate and needy. He knew exactly what you were begging for, he leaned down, cupping your chin in his hand. "What do you want, love?" He asked in a smooth, knowing tone.

“I need you. Please.” A small chuckle escaped from his mouth at your desperate cry, his fingers trailing down your chin to your throat. "You need what?" He asked, his voice dropping lower, "You need my hands on your thighs? You need my face between your legs? You need my fingers inside you? My cock?" You let out a shaky breath at his words, swallowing loudly.

“Please, make me feel good, San.” He smirked mischievously at you, grabbing you by your wrist tightly and pulling you up from the ground. You were immediately met with his intense gaze and his hot breath on your lips. “Please-“ When you started to beg again he silenced you with a harsh, bruising kiss, his other hand reaching to your hip, guiding you slowly to the bed. He broke the kiss, panting, "You want to feel good?" Your knees immediately hitting the bed and he showed you down on the mattress, watching you swallow and your breath becoming more heavier which made his cock twitch.

With your elbows you supported your body as you leaned back more and you observed him as he stood there watching you for a moment, admiring how perfectly you surrendered your body to him. Your chest rising and falling with anticipation, lips parted slightly. "Spread your legs," he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. When you hesitated for just a moment, he added firmly, "Now." Without another second you spread your legs for him and he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands firmly gripping your knees to keep them spread wide. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, seeing how wet you were, your pink folds glistening with need. He slowly ran his fingers along your slit, not penetrating but just teasing.

“Fuck-“ When you felt his finger ran along your slit you threw your head back and shut your eyes, begging with your little moans to be touched more.

“Eyes on me, love.” With a raised tone he grabbed you by your jaw and made you look straight into his eyes, his fingers splaying out to keep your knees spread wide. When he slowly pressed his tip against your wet pussy he watched your eyes roll back slightly but snapped them back to his with a sharp tug on your jaw. "You just won’t listen, will you?" he asked, his thumb rubbing your chin roughly. "You want to be fucked?” You were unable to concentrate when he pressed his tip on your wet pussy, teasing you. The only thing you managed to do was shake your head which wasn’t enough for him.

He saw the contradiction in your body language and smirked. "You don't want to be fucked?" he asked, pressing just the tip of his cock inside you, but not enough to satisfy your need. He was teasing you, loving the power he had over you.

“No! I want to be- I want to be fucked, please!” A dark laugh escaped his lips as he heard you beg for it. He leaned down, his breath hot on your ear. "That's what I thought," he whispered, driving his cock fully into you in one swift motion. You gasped, your back arching as he filled you completely, capturing your mouth into a deep kiss. Right away you moved your hands to his back and he groaned into the kiss, loving the way your nails dug into his back.

He started to move his hips, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he pulled out and thrust back in. He broke the kiss to nip at your neck, sucking and biting to mark you. Then he pulled away his dark eyes locked onto yours, demanding your attention and devotion. "Tell me who's fucking you this good." He lifted your chin with his hand as he continued to thrust into you deeply and slowly, his piercing hitting your g-spot with each thrust.

“Y-you.”

"What I didn’t quite hear you." He teased, his voice low and commanding as he continued his slow, deep thrusts, hitting your g-spot with each movement. His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, squeezing gently as he looked into your eyes. "Say my name, love."

“San.” You moaned more louder and he smirked at that, enjoying how you are taking his cock so well. "Like that," He growled, thrusting harder. "You take my dick so well," He murmured, watching your body bounce slightly with each snap of his hips. "Spread your legs wider." He ordered softly, watching you eagerly obey.

"You know what I love?" You gasped as he thrusted deeper into you, gripping your hip more tight every time. He enjoyed the sight of you how you opened your mouth into a little ‘O’ when he thrusted more deeper, making you take his full length.

"Watching your pretty face while I destroy this tight pussy," He whispered darkly, increasing his pace. His hand around your throat tightened slightly, showing his possessiveness. His thumb traced your bottom lip as he continued pounding into you. "Christ you feel so good..." He leaned down to nip at your ear as he felt your nails dig deeper into his back as he hit that sweet spot inside you, making you cry out his name loudly. He smirked against your neck, loving the sound of your voice saying his name. His hips moved in a circular motion, hitting your g-spot from different angles as he spoke. “So glad you left- you left that boyfriend of yours.” The fact he was struggling with his words made you moan even more. “Now you are all mine. Right?” The grip on your throat tightening as he looked at you with a hungry gaze. “Say it that you are mine.”

“I’m yours.” As his dick was too much for you, you hid your face in the crotch of his neck, but he immediately pulled you back. "That's right, you're fucking mine," he growled possessively, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, bitting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, marking you. He continued to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Y-yours.” Even though you were unable to breathe you repeated again but San hadn’t enough of it, yet.

"Again," His voice hoarse as he continued his brutal pace, his hands roaming your body possessively, squeezing your breast and spreading your thighs wider. "Say it like you mean it," He ordered, his eyes locked onto yours as he continued his punishing rhythm.

“I-…” You were moaning mess you couldn’t get a simple word out of you as he kept thrusting more rougher. He laughed at your state but still he said;

"Use that mouth yours like when you talk shit." He growled as his hips were snapping forward with each word. "Tell. Me. You're. Mine." He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, hitting your g-spot perfectly, his eyes burning with intensity as he watched you struggle to speak.

“I’m yours. Fuck-… only…” To catch a breath you paused for a second, “Only yours”

"Goddamn," Softly he muttered, slowing down his pace. He loved hearing those words from your mouth. Slightly, he pulled out then snapped his hips back in hard, making you cry out. He smirked wickedly. "You know what I wanna do?" Finally he moved your hand from your throat to your hip again and again he pulled out of you and then snapped his hips back in hard. With hunger in his eyes he watched you let out a little cry as he kept doing that for a while. But then he kept his pace slow and deep, dragging his piercing along your walls. "I wanna fill this pretty pussy up with my cum, mark you inside and out. Make sure everyone knows you're taken," He leaned down, biting your earlobe. "What do you say to that, love?" Your eyes widened at his words and a chill run down your spine.

“W-what?” Out of breath you asked him he chuckled darkly at your shocked expression, his slow thrusts maintaining their deep pressure. "You heard me," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Want my cum inside you?" His hand slid down to rub your clit in tight circles, making your hips jerk involuntarily.

When his hand met your clit, teasing you, you let out a loud moan and shook your head in agreement watching him smirk at you mischievously loving the effect he had on you. At that he speeded up the pace again thrusting more deeper and rougher than before trying to chase your and his own high. His cock pounded into you with renewed vigor, his breath growing ragged and his eyes never leaving yours. "Fuck, you feel too good," he groaned, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spread them wider to accommodate his deep, brutal thrusts. "I’m gonna fill you up."

“Please.” With a loud moan you begged and you grabbed him by his cheeks, pulling him closer and kissing him roughly. He kissed you back fiercely, swallowing your desperate plea as he continued his relentless pace. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming every inch as his cock claimed your pussy. "Fuck, you are so desperate for me." he teased breathlessly against your lips, giving a particularly hard thrust that made you see stars. He could feel that you were close when your walls started to clinching more on his dick.

"Are you gonna cum for me, love?" He whispered darkly, picking up the pace even more, his thrusts becoming almost violent, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every stroke. "Look at me when you come." He could feel his own release building, his muscles tensing. Moans echoed in the room as you sank your nails into his back once again as you came.

"Fuck, yes," he hissed at the sudden pain mixing with pleasure. His nails dug into your hips hard enough to leave marks as he surged forward, his entire body stiffening. He let out a guttural roar, his hot cum filling you up, overflowing and dripping down your legs. After that he didn’t pull out, he stayed inside you for a while pressing his forehead against yours, smiling softly at you. It was different than before. This didn’t feel like sex, like it did back then in his office. It felt more like love?…

[covenofagatha]

The psychology of love (Part 4)

A rainy day leads to an unexpected encounter

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: masturbation

You think your heart might have stopped beating. 

Agatha put her phone number in her email signature. Something small that might be unnoticeable to anyone else and could’ve been there all along—plausible deniability at its finest—but you see it. You know she just added it. 

Is it for you? Does she want you to text her? Is this her way of putting the metaphorical ball in your court? 

A million thoughts go through your head, ranging from text her right now, you idiot, what are you waiting for? to what if the university just made a new policy about putting all the ways to contact a professor in the sign off? It might not even be her personal number, it could be her office number. Maybe she put the number there for someone else. 

What should you do? Can you get in trouble for texting a teacher? What if it’s about the course material? 

You rack your brain for anything you could ask about, but there’s not a good enough question that would warrant this. 

Fuck. 

You could text her about the presentation, tell her again how excited you are for it. Seems too desperate, though, too transparent. 

Maybe it’s just a game. She knows about your little crush on her apparently—the comment about transference making that clear—and this could be her way of catching you in the act. 

The door to your room opens and you jump with a yelp before immediately dropping your phone on your chest like you might get caught doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

It’s Wanda. She gives you a bemused look as she strolls to her bed before dropping her bag on the floor. “What are you doing?” she asks suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” you say hastily. 

She smirks. “If you’re watching porn or something, I’m more than happy to give you a few minutes alone.” 

“You just startled me, that’s all,” you mutter, picking your phone up and turning it back on. It comes back to life zoomed in on Agatha’s phone number and your cheeks heat up. 

Chewing on your lip, you tilt your head to Wanda and then back to your screen. You think about asking her for advice but there’s a voice in the back of your mind nagging that Agatha could get in trouble. 

If she did give you her number, she took a risk. And although she could play it off and there’s no actual way to tie it to you, you don’t want to take that chance. 

So you make a new contact for Agatha, choosing not to add a last name just in case. You open a new message and the space bar blinks at you, making your heart beating fast and heavy. 

Even just the thought of sending something makes your stomach twist. 

Letter by letter, you type out an introduction text and your finger hovers over the send button. It feels like time is slowing down, like your head is spinning. Should you do it? 

You think you might throw up from the ball of nerves growing inside you. 

“How’s Morgan?” Wanda asks casually while scrolling on her phone in her bed. You swallow hard and glance over. 

“She’s good I think,” you rasp and then clear your throat. “We haven’t talked since our date yesterday.” 

Wanda glances over at you. “You didn’t text her or anything?” The judgement is clear and you vaguely remember seeing a message from Morgan earlier that you forget to respond to. 

Whoops. 

Even when you’re trying to be invested in Morgan, your thoughts still find a way back to Agatha. 

“I will in a bit,” you mutter and Wanda snorts because you both know it’s a lie. You turn your attention back to your phone where your text to your professor is still waiting to be sent or deleted. 

The butterflies in your stomach come back with a vengeance and you feel like you’ve been torn in half. What the fuck should you do?

There’s not a good enough reason to text her. But you want to. What would you even say? Come up with a question about the presentation. What if she thinks you’re acting too desperate? What if you’re completely off-base with how you’re perceiving this? 

The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth and you realize you’ve broken through the skin on your lip with how hard you’ve been biting it. You start to chew on your nails instead, still staring at your phone. 

The screen starts to go dark and you tap it, a burst of panic flashing through you when you realize that your finger almost landed on the send button. Eventually, your heart rate returns to normal but it feels like your typed out message is mocking you. 

You can’t do it. It’s too much of a risk and you don’t want to look like a fool when it turns out that Agatha doesn’t actually like you like that. 

Deleting the text, you turn your phone off, slightly disgusted and disappointed with yourself. If only you were someone who didn’t have to overthink every single possible thing that could go wrong if you decided to take a chance. 

Your phone buzzes and you have a momentary lapse in judgement in which you think Agatha somehow texted you first. You grab it quickly, breathing quickening, and scan it. 

It’s just Morgan. 

Hey. Just wanted to check in again. Maybe we could do something this weekend if you’re free? 

Rolling over onto your side to face the wall, you quietly groan and turn your phone off, ignoring her. 

—

On Sunday afternoon, you decide to go for a run. The August air in New Jersey is nice and cool and you really need to clear your head. 

You spent all yesterday in your room pondering what to do about Agatha. You had come to the conclusion that you weren’t going to text her—not unless there was a good enough reason to. And you weren’t exactly sure what that would look like, but you were now hoping more than anything that you’d get one. 

Wanda barely looks up when you change into a white tank top and athletic shorts and leave the dorm room. She was with Nat all of Saturday and you remember her saying that they’re going out for dinner tonight as well. 

She had invited you and Morgan to come as a double date, but you still hadn’t responded to Morgan and you felt like you couldn’t just ask her if she wanted to go out again. You’d have to say you were really sick or something. 

Once outside, you stretch your legs, wincing at the burn. Working out is never something you really enjoy doing, but every now and then, you get in the mood for it. You think a nice run, maybe a mile or two, will do you some good. 

You put your airpods in your ears, click a song at random to start your playlist, and take a deep breath. 

The moment you start running, you regret it but the burn in your legs is doing wonders to get you from thinking about Agatha so you push through the pain and keep going. The thump of your shoes against the pavement becomes a rhythm and before you know it, you’ve gotten off campus and you’re now running down the side of the road. 

Sweat stings your eyes and your lungs ache so you welcome the darkening of the clouds above you and the light drizzle that starts to come down. 

Until the drizzle turns into a downpour and puddles are drenching your shoes and socks and you can hardly see two feet in front of you and you have to stop. You’re almost a mile away from your dorm and there is no way you’re going to be able to get back in the rain like this, but luckily, there’s a grocery store a few hundred yards away. 

The cold air hits you the second the doors slide open and your teeth begin chattering. Your clothes cling to your body, water droplets running down your arms and legs, and you make a beeline to find a jacket or anything that will warm you up. 

Heat from the deli counter radiates and seeps into your bones so you go stand next to it, pretending to check out the fried chicken while you’re actually getting feeling back into your limbs. 

“Late lunch?” someone says next to you and you inwardly roll your eyes before turning to look at them, about to make some polite but passive aggressive comment but instead your mouth falls open. 

It’s Professor Harkness. 

She’s staring at you amusedly, eyes wandering over your soaked body. Her stare pauses and you glance down and notice, in dismay, that your white shirt is almost completely see-through and your green bra is very noticeable. 

Along with your hardened nipples from the cold. 

“Following me around?” you joke and don’t miss the way her eyes darken. 

Agatha takes a step closer and her perfume overwhelms your senses. She’s wearing a blue shirt tucked neatly into jeans with Keds and her hair down and a little frizzy from the rain and humidity. It feels like you’re sucking air through a small straw. 

“I thought I’d test out the mere exposure effect on my favorite student,” she says, a teasing smile playing on her lips. Your heart skips a beat. 

Her favorite student?

You hum, pretending to be nonchalant, trying to maintain eye contact. “Is that the one where you like things the more familiar you are with them?” 

“Exactly. Is it working?” 

It’s hard to tell whether or not she’s being serious. “I mean, you are my favorite professor so…I guess?” 

Agatha snorts, but looks silently pleased. “I’m kidding, hon. As Freud may have said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I just came to get some groceries,” she nods at the basket in her hand that’s full of fruit, lunch meat, and chips, “and I saw you standing here. Thought you looked a bit wet.” 

Your cunt actually clenches around nothing and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Just got caught in the rain on a run,” you say finally, your thumbnail finding its way between your teeth. She tracks the movement with a knowing smirk and you feel your cheeks heat up. “The one time I actually go work out. The universe is out to get me, I guess.” 

Agatha nods conspiratorially while you shift your weight between legs, both from the cold and from the awkwardness settling. Should you ask about the phone number? Is she upset that you didn’t text? 

“How much do you know about the idea about the locus of control?” she asks suddenly. 

You eye her a bit wearily, the gleam on her face signaling nothing but trouble. “I mean, I’ve heard a bit about it. An internal locus of control means you think you have authority over your life and external doesn’t?” 

Agatha nods and your stomach twists pleasantly. “Internal versus external locus of control. How much control do you think you have over your life? Do you wait for things to just happen—or do you make them happen?”

With the way she’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world, you think for a second that she could be talking about you pursuing her. 

Which would be insane. 

She sees your confusion and gives you a coy smile. “I don’t think the universe is out to get you, hon. I think you’re perfectly capable of getting everything you want all by yourself.” 

“So, you’re saying I should get back out there and run back to my dorm in the rain?” you ask, swallowing roughly at the dark glint in her eye. 

Does she know that she’s everything you want?

Agatha glances toward the front of the store where you both can see the downpour through the sliding glass doors. “No. I can’t have you getting sick. I’ll drive you back.” 

Before you can say anything, she motions for you to follow her and you do—you trail after her like a lost puppy, like one of Pavlov’s dogs that salivates at just the sight of its owner. You stand obediently by her side while she pays for her groceries after asking if you need anything and then you jog after her to her black Range Rover parked close to the front of the lot. 

Once you slam the door shut, Agatha turns on the car and reaches over to turn on your heated seat. 

Is she even allowed to do this? 

Will anyone know?

She gives you her phone with the maps app pulled up for you to put your address in. You type in the name of your dorm and hand it back to her. 

“Are you from here?” she asks, effortlessly backing out of the spot and you’re distracted by the way her hands move. 

Agatha glances at you and you realize that you’ve been staring at her. You clear your throat. “Um, no, I’m from out-of-state. I knew I wanted to go somewhere up north, though, for the cold and to get a little distance from home. I just fell in love with Westview when I was touring places. It’s a really cute town and I really like the school. And I read good reviews about the psychology department so it just seemed like the perfect place.” 

She nods like she’s in agreement. “It is really nice here.”

“What about you? Have you been in Westview your whole life?” 

Agatha tilts her head from side to side like the answer is complicated. “Most of it. I understand wanting to get some distance from home.” 

You study her face, running your eyes over the lines on her forehead and the slight wrinkles by the corner of her blue eyes and her pointed nose. She seems unguarded right now, unlike the way she is in class. 

This might be the first time you and her have had a conversation outside of impromptu ambiguous psychology lessons and school. This might be your favorite version of her. 

“You’re graduating in the spring, right?” she breaks the silence and you’re once again startled to find out that she knows that about you. First your name and now what year you are in college?

You looked her up, but what are the chances she looked you up? 

She’s probably just being a good professor. She probably knows all her students’ names and years. You push the nagging voice out of your head. 

“Yep! Kind of crazy. I still don’t know what I’m going to do after this.” 

Agatha pats your leg, her palm on your bare skin, and you freeze. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re very bright, hon.” 

“Thank you,” you stammer, cheeks burning with a ferocious fire. She takes her hand back but you can still feel the ghost of her touch. 

She tosses you a wink. “And if you don’t find something, I could always use a research assistant. The pay isn’t great but you do get a stipend and if you wanted to go to graduate school here, it would help with that.” 

“What kind of research?” 

“Oh, this and that,” she hums and turns onto the street that your dorm is on. The rain has slowed down. “I want to do practical, real-life work based on theories from psychologists like B.F. Skinner and Mary Ainsworth and such. I’m always looking for students to recruit and I think you could be a great fit. If you’d be interested. Obviously I don’t want to rob you of something that you’re actually interested in.”

You shake your head adamantly. “No, that seems like something I would want to do.” As long as it keeps you close to Agatha, you think you might do anything, even without knowing what it is. And the idea of getting something lined up for after graduation is also very enticing. 

Agatha grins and pulls up right in front of your building, shifting the car into park. “I’ll be sure to keep you in mind then, hon. Have a great rest of the weekend and I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” 

You give her a smile and her gaze drops down to your lips and the tension becomes palpable. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of your own breathing and heartbeat and then she leans over the center console. 

Biting your lip, you’re stuck frozen in your seat as her perfume wafts into your nostrils and she reaches around you, her dark blue eyes meeting yours. 

There’s a click as the car door unlocks from behind you—all Agatha’s doing—and she pulls back to settle into her seat, a smug smile on her face. You’re disappointed but also strangely relieved—if she was going to kiss you, you’d want it to not be in her car while you’re still wet and freezing from the rain. 

“See you tomorrow,” you rasp before wrenching open the door and trying to walk as calmly as possible to the door. When you turn around, you see her still parked out front, watching and waiting for you to go inside. Your heart warms at the gesture and she doesn’t drive away until you’ve safely gotten in the building and pressed the button for the elevator.

You strip off your still-drenched clothes the second you get back to your dorm and grab some new ones before going to take a shower. While the water warms, you stand there shivering, not thinking of anything else but Agatha. 

Internal versus external locus of control. How much control do you think you have over your life? Do you wait for things to just happen—or do you make them happen?

Is it about the phone number? You can almost convince yourself that she wants you to text her, that she wants you. 

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. 

Are things really just what they seem? Is Agatha really what she seems? It’s like she’s telling you something, spelling it out for you, but you’re missing the final piece to make sense of it all. The phone number could be the cigar. The way she looks at you and makes ambiguous comments could be the cigar. Is there a chance she’s being so obvious, so real, and you’re just not able to accept the fact that your professor might like you?

You think you might be losing your mind with this obsession. 

The shower burns your skin but does little to clean off the growing feeling inside you that threatens to swallow you whole. Even through your confusion, there’s still the fire in your stomach, the embers of your conversation with Agatha fresh and making you reel. 

When you accidentally brush your legs together, the slight pressure on your clit makes you jump and you realize just how wet you are. Your upper thighs are slick and you run a hand through your folds and pull your fingers away dripping. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. You put a leg up on the tub and begin to lazily rub at your clit, hips bucking, and you almost slip. Holding onto the wall with your other hand for balance, you’re able to get more leverage without the risk of hurting yourself and you feel your walls clench around nothing when you resume your motions. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get close and you’re about to slide a finger into yourself when there’s a banging on the bathroom door. 

“Can you hurry up please?” someone shouts and you jump. You and Wanda share a conjoined bathroom with another dorm and sometimes they have the worst timing. 

“Yeah, sorry, just a second!” you call back over the rush of the shower but the knocking continues. You grumble and step out, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself. 

You swing the door open to find your suitemate Chelsea standing there, a panicked look on her face. 

Before you can ask if she’s okay, she rushes past you into the bathroom and closes the door. “I really need to pee,” she tells you and you clench your jaw in frustration, both at her and not being able to cum. 

Quickly throwing on your clothes, you climb into bed and bend your legs up. You’ll just have to finish what you started. 

The first brush against your clit has you lightly moaning, still worked up from the shower. You try to think of Morgan at first, the way she fucked you at the party a week ago. Her fingers had twisted skillfully and her thumb had rubbed against your clit in a way that made you keen. And god—her smell. The vanilla and coffee and something else, something dangerous. You can see her in your mind, the slight smile on her lips as she watched you while she fucked you. Your hips move in an attempt to feel more but it doesn’t work. 

But then her face morphs into someone else—someone else with dark hair and blue eyes and the same addictive scent. 

Agatha. 

A gasp escapes you as you involuntarily jerk, a flash of pleasure bolting up your spine. 

“Oh, god,” you murmur. The picture of your professor with her fingers inside you makes your walls violently clench and electricity cackles under your skin. 

Your mind wanders and you swear you can see Agatha in front of you, clear as day, smirking while she condescendingly coos psychology facts at you and fucks you. 

Her fingers would fill you so nicely, her tongue on your clit would feel so nice, and your head tosses on the pillow as your back arches off the bed. 

“Fuck,” you whine as you slide a finger into yourself and curl it up, your palm bumping against your clit. Your eyes roll back—it should be her touching you right now, claiming you. 

Your hips move faster, taking your finger as deep as you can and you add another one into your wet cunt. Squelching sounds fill the air along with your pants and your wetness trickles out of your pussy and down onto the bed. Your other hand pinches your nipple the way you imagine she would. 

The Agatha in your mind scrapes her teeth against your breast and then swirls her tongue around your nipple while she chuckles at how breathless you sound. She makes her way down, biting and sucking on the expanse of your stomach so you know exactly who you belong to. 

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss as you twist your fingers and stroke your clit with your thumb. You’re fucking yourself fast and hard, giving up all pretenses of trying to take your time. You need this too bad. 

You need Agatha. 

Pleasure tingles in your veins and your chest heaves as you now think about what she would taste like, what it would be like to make her feel good. You can see her writhing under you, thighs tensing up as you tease her clit with your mouth. Is she loud? Would she moan your name when she cums? 

Imagining it’s her guiding you, teaching you, you yank on your hair and the sting makes the euphoria more acute. You gasp loudly, hips bucking, walls clenching around your fingers. You know you look like an absolute mess right now, completely and utterly ruined for your professor, but you don’t care. 

For a fraction of a second, you wonder what she would do if you took a picture of yourself and sent it to her. 

Would she instantly block you? 

Or would she fuck herself to the sight? 

A guttural moan tears itself out of your throat at the thought. You can visualize her confusedly clicking on a text from an unknown number, only to find her student masturbating, and then sliding a hand into her pants to relieve the tension. 

The same tension that’s building in your lower stomach. 

You turn your head and pant open-mouthed against your shoulder and your hips keep moving furiously to match your thrusts. 

Agatha’s hair would be sprawled beneath her, the veins in her hand prominent and outlined as she fingered herself. As much as you want to touch her and taste her and make her feel good, you also want to watch. You want to watch her be in control of her own pleasure the same way she commands your class. 

You press against your special spot and rub and keep doing that but something is missing. It feels so fucking good but you’re right on the edge and you need more. 

Your subconscious knows it before you do and you pull your fingers out of you and roll to face your nightstand. Yanking open the drawer, you begin to rummage through, knowing that you threw it in here somewhere. 

Finally, through the pulsing of your clit, you manage to find the box and you rip it open. The small, dark vial of Black Opium lays in your palm and your breathing becomes laborious. 

It’s like you’re in a trance as you twist the applicator out and spray it. Instantly, the sensual smell of coffee, vanilla, and spice fills the air and you inhale deeply. The scent lingers as you close your eyes and your cunt aches to be filled. 

Now, it’s even easier to imagine Agatha when you slide your fingers back into your waiting pussy and the sensations are heightened tenfold because of the perfume. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” you cry, the muscles in your stomach tightening and your hips rolling. Everything is so much clearer now, like the pleasure you were feeling before was muted. You can hear Agatha’s voice showering you with praises like she always does and it’s like she’s right there—you’re right there and with one more thrust, you fall over the edge, the dam of tension exploding and rushing through your body. 

You keep rubbing your clit and fucking your fingers fast to prolong the feeling and you can’t help the name that falls from your lips. 

“Agatha.” 

The aftershocks of your orgasm make you twitch until you finally come down from your high and you lie limply on your bed, completely spent. You know you should feel guilty and maybe a little bit shameful for that, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not after you just came harder than you ever have in your whole life. 

There’s no denying that you are absolutely and irrevocably fucked for your professor. 

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand and you crane your neck to look at the lit-up screen. 

It’s Morgan, again. You still haven’t responded to her. 

Chewing on your lip, you grab your phone and do possibly the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your life. You open a new chat and your heart pounds in sync with each letter you type. 

Hey, Professor. Thanks for the ride today.

You re-read your message until the words don’t even make sense before hitting send and then you immediately throw it back onto the nightstand, praying that you didn’t just fuck everything up. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x

[nanamineedstherapy]

Hollow Worship: It was never about him

Summary: Gojo Satoru was used to being admired. Worshipped, even. That was the natural order of things. But worship isn’t always devotion. Sometimes, it’s possession. Sometimes, it’s something far worse. Trigger Warnings(Contains Spoilers): MDNI, Non-Con. A/N: The people who feel close to someone call them by their first name. Those who don’t—or don’t see themselves as a living being or a human—use surnames. This is my dark little gift to my muses @mullermilkshake & @TheVillagerandtheSea—hope you both enjoy your dose of brain rot. Hehe.

Your POV

Gojo Satoru was used to being admired. Worshipped, even. It came with the territory—being him.

His power? Unmatched.

His looks? Otherworldly.

His charm? Debatable. But that was your problem, not his.

The first time you met him, you were busy existing like a normal, competent jujutsu sorcerer with a stellar track record.

That lasted exactly five seconds.

Because then he walked in, all six-foot-whatever, grinning like an idiot, and your brain just—

Flatlined.

Your eyes dropped.

Not to his ridiculous sunglasses.

Not to his stupid smirk.

Lower.

His chest.

His stupidly big, indecently sculpted, menacingly perky chest.

The fabric of his uniform stretched obscenely across his pecs, and you were stuck staring at them like a sleep paralysis demon locked in combat with intrusive thoughts.

“Uh,” you said, completely forgetting every word you’d ever learned.

Gojo wasn’t surprised when you immediately froze upon meeting him. Awestruck, clearly. Like a rookie catching their first glimpse of true greatness.

His smirk widened. “Oh? Speechless? Must be my overwhelming presence—”

You didn’t respond, still frozen.

Satoru knew what people usually looked at. His blindfold. His jawline. Sometimes his hands (for some weird reason).

But you? You looked like you’d seen God’s greatest creation.

Right there.

On his torso.

It was bizarre.

Your love for Satoru (or Toru, as you lovingly called him in your dreams) didn’t start that day. It had been brewing for years—long before you ever laid eyes on him in real life.

Back when he was just an unattainable god-tier existence on your timeline, you already knew he’d be yours.

Because there was one thing that separated others from you, your special grade technique was a bad match for his.

When someone dared to call him overrated? You were there, bombs locked and loaded.

When a hater tried to say he wasn’t that strong? You had an entire thesis, six sources cited, and a clip of him soloing special grades in 4K.

And when anyone tried to downplay his assets—the sheer, disrespectfully sculpted divinity of his existence—?

Oh, you were feral.

“I wonder if sex eyes replineshes his cum output too and efficiently releases cum to the point where he releases massive cum while releasing almost close to 0 cum. Also, would it look blue? Would it be stronger than normal cum? Lot of questions.”

“How much do you love Gojo?”

“How much water have you drank all your life?”

"Honestly, at this point, if he fucked my Grandma, I’d lick her asshole just to taste his cum.”

The Gojo fandom was a lawless wasteland, and you thrived in it.

You had favorites, of course.

The thirst edits that sent you into a spiral.

The fanart that made you question if you needed to start paying tithes.

The slow-mo clips of him laughing, walking, existing—each one a religious experience in its own right.

And then there was The Video. The one where he cracked his neck before a fight, his uniform stretching just right across his chest.

That was the day you learned true spiritual enlightenment.

“Daddy Gojo needs to be locked in a mating press IMMEDIATELY. I’m tired of this.”

“I will open my mouth and take big bites of your huge breasts. Then I will open my anus behind me and let you impale me with that huge dragon-slaying eagle. Until the flowers fade, until my room becomes sticky, until your semen rushes from behind me toward my esophagus and out of my throat. Until the blood flowing in my veins becomes your semen. Until I howled loudly, which made me very happy.”

It was true love.

Except now you were here.

You had spent years preparing for this moment. Practiced your greeting. Rehearsed a perfectly normal, non-feral introduction. Told yourself you were above the insanity.

Then he walked in.

And your brain just left the building.

It wasn’t just the face. Or the voice. Or the aura that made everyone else in the room seem insignificant by comparison.

No, it was worse.

Because Gojo Satoru in real life?

Was so much more.

---

A few days later, you were on your first mission under Tokyo Jujutsu Tech.

Supposed to be dealing with a curse. A minor one, at that. Easy work for someone of your caliber.

Barely a threat.

But then it happened.

Satoru’s chest bounced when he dodged an attack.

The moment he’d moved, his uniform shifted—just slightly, just enough for the fabric to pull taut, for muscle to flex, for the weight of him to move in a way that was, apparently, devastating to you.

Your brain short-circuited like a Windows XP error.

You stopped mid-step, completely entranced, like a deer staring down an 18-wheeler made of raw pectoral muscle.

You almost died.

Over boobies.

Gojo had saved you, obviously. He yanked you back, put down the curse like it was nothing.

Then he turned to you, expecting at least a little bit of shame.

Instead, you were still looking.

Not at the curse.

Not at the aftermath.

At him.

At something beyond, something in, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

“…Newbie nerves?” he said, tilting his head. “You know, I could give you some pointers—”

Nothing.

No reaction.

Just that same, unblinking, fascinated look.

“Huh,” he frowned.

And, like a curse magnetized to a ten-pack, you kept staring.

---

Gojo’s POV

The first time he met you, he thought you were a normal, competent jujutsu sorcerer. Maybe even impressive.

Then he noticed the staring.

It wasn’t the usual kind—no awe, no fear, no giddy admiration at his reputation.

It was fixed. Heavy.

It took him longer than it should have to realize what you were staring at.

Not his uniform.

His chest.

At first, it was easy to ignore. Gojo was used to people looking at him, analyzing him, wanting something from him.

But this was different.

Your gaze didn’t waver, didn’t break away when caught—it just locked on, paralyzing, suffocating, an unspoken weight pressing against his ribs.

Gojo wasn’t used to feeling watched.

Not like this.

Sure, people stared at him all the time—students, sorcerers, civilians, enemies. Everyone wanted a piece of him, whether it was his power, his reputation, or just the sheer spectacle of his existence.

But your gaze?

Your gaze felt different.

He laughed it off.

Because what else was he supposed to do?

He’d gone to Nanami first.

“She stares at my chest. Constantly,” Gojo said, sitting backward on a chair like the human embodiment of a red flag.

Nanami didn’t look up from his paperwork. “And? I have important matters to handle, Gojo-san.”

“No, but seriously. She stares like—like she’s buffering. It’s like she’s studying them. That’s weird, right?”

Nanami’s pen stilled. He glanced up. “You mean the sorcerer with a higher kill count than you?”

Gojo blinked. “...What?”

“She’s a special grade.”

“Huh—”

“She’s more competent than you.”

Gojo frowned. “Okay, rude, but—”

“You should be grateful she even looks at you.”

“How can you—”

“She has more important things to do than entertain your delusions.”

He tried Ijichi next.

“Ijichi, listen, she stares. A lot. You believe me, right?”

Ijichi sighed, exhausted. “I believe you’re tired and hallucinating, Gojo-san.”

Surely Shoko would believe him, right?

Shoko took a drag of her cigarette and, without looking at him, said, “Sounds like a skill issue.”

No one believed him. No one.

And that’s when Gojo knew: he was alone in this.

That should have been the end of it. But it kept happening.

You were competent, respected, powerful—and yet, Gojo would catch you frozen, staring at him.

Not at his face.

At his chest.

It happened during missions.

It happened in meetings.

It happened when he was simply breathing in the same space as you.

And then, the first incident happened.

It had been a nasty mission.

Multiple special grade curses.

Gojo handled it like always, but the last one caught him off-guard.

Just for a second.

Then the mission went wrong.

Fast.

Gojo got clocked.

Hard enough to black out.

It wasn’t often that he felt truly helpless.

It would be fine; you were there; you’d take care of it.

But when he woke up, there was cold floor pressing against his back.

Did he tear off his clothes in the fight?

But there was warmth too.

Something was off.

Pressure. Softness.

Something was… moving?

His brain caught up at the same time his eyes adjusted.

He tried to sit up, but—oh.

Oh, no.

He looked down.

It was you.

Your face was buried in his bare chest.

Fully.

And—oh God, were you moterboating his chest?

Gojo was a man of many words.

Right now? He had none.

Your hands clutched his uniform pant’s waistband, face buried between his pecs like you were trying to merge with them.

“...The hell?” Gojo rasped.

You froze.

Stared at him, unblinking.

You had been waiting for this.

Didn’t look embarrassed but... devastated?

A long, long pause.

Then:

“...Can I—”

“No.”

“Just one more—”

“Absolutely not.”

You sat back with the heaviest sigh known to man.

Because you were disappointed.

Gojo scrambled away from you, grabbing his uniform coat, almost tripping on his own feet and putting it on hurriedly before teleporting away.

---

Your POV

You loved his chest.

And Gojo Satoru, for all his confidence, was confused by the sheer devastation on your face as he pulled away, as if he’d just denied you your one purpose in life.

Meanwhile, you?

You had been thriving.

You had touched him.

Felt him.

Got a taste—no, an experience—of the divine creation that was his body, and it had been just as glorious as you always imagined.

Better, even.

Your fingers still tingled.

Your face still burned.

Your soul? Ascended.

And he had moaned.

Not a little gasp, not a sharp inhale—he had moaned.

The moment his consciousness had flickered back into reality, before his brain even had the decency to register what was happening, a soft, breathy, utterly wrecked sound had left his lips.

For you.

He could deny it all he wanted. Could try to act like he wasn’t completely gone for you, but you knew the truth.

It was only a matter of time.

And time was something you were ready to bend.

You’d always admired him—Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, the most beautiful man alive, the reason why your entire search history was a carefully curated shrine of edits, thirst posts, and questionable thoughts.

You were the one who lived and breathed Satoru. The one who had a folder on your phone labeled “Toru’s Temple” filled with pictures and clips (taken of him when he wasn’t looking) of him doing the most mundane things—like adjusting his blindfold or his fingers intertwined when he sat waiting for his hot coffee to cool—because even the smallest movement felt religious.

But admiration had limits.

Love didn’t.

And what you felt for him?

It was love.

Because if Satoru told you to jump off a cliff, you’d ask how high?

Because if he ruined your life, you’d apologize for wasting his time.

That’s why, as you watched him stumble out of the infirmary, still slightly dazed, still rattled from your little touch, you knew exactly what you had to do.

Toru baby needed guidance.

Someone to make him understand.

And that someone was you.

You smoothed out your uniform, lips curving into a soft, sweet smile as you watched him head toward the training grounds. The first-years were waiting for him, clueless to the fact that their beloved teacher had just moaned like a two-bit whore under you.

Adorable.

But you weren’t worried.

You had a plan.

All you had to do was wait, when he was just tired enough, just distracted enough—

And then?

You were going to corner him.

And you were going to make him see.

Make him understand that what happened between you wasn’t just a coincidence.

That his body knew what his stubborn little brain was taking time to accept.

That he belonged to you.

And if you had to break him in to make him realize it?

Well.

That was just love, wasn’t it?

---

A few days later - Gojo’s POV

Gojo had always assumed there were limits.

There were things he could stop, things he could overpower, things that no one—no one—could ever do to him.

Because he was the strongest.

Because he had Infinity.

Because he was untouchable.

Because—

Because—

Because he was wrong.

It happened fast.

Too fast.

He saw the shift in your eyes before he even registered that his body was already reacting.

Already activating Infinity.

The barrier was up.

Infinity was absolute.

That’s what Gojo had always known.

A law of physics as natural as breathing. No one—not even a special-grade—should have been able to touch him without permission.

But your fingers wrapped around his wrist anyway.

Like Infinity wasn’t there.

Like he wasn’t there.

He had never seen you use this technique before.

Something that bypassed Infinity like it was nothing.

Not time manipulation, not a Domain Expansion—just something else.

Something made for this.

He had seen cursed techniques used in ways that violated human limits, but never like this.

Never against him.

Never against his body.

Gojo didn’t understand.

Didn’t want to understand.

His breath stuck in his throat. His body locked.

His vision tunneled, and it wasn’t because of a fight, wasn’t because of an opponent stronger than him, wasn’t because he had made a mistake in battle—

No.

This was something worse.

His body wasn’t reacting the way it should have.

His instinct screamed at him—pull away, push back, destroy—

But he couldn’t.

Because his body wasn’t obeying instincts of war anymore.

It was responding to something else. Something he had never prepared for.

Fear.

Not of death.

Not of losing.

But of you.

Your hands touched his chest first, like before.

Then lower.

Lower.

The horror didn’t hit all at once.

It came in waves, in wrongness, in realization.

He had never been touched like this.

Never been unable to stop it.

His body was screaming at him to move, but he couldn’t.

He wasn’t fighting a curse.

He wasn’t facing death.

He was frozen.

He wasn’t the strongest.

Not in this.

Not when it was your weight against him, your voice—his own name slipping out of your mouth in a way that made his stomach churn—

Not when he realized his body was obeying instincts that had nothing to do with power.

He wanted to disappear.

His body was betraying him.

Why?

Why?

His arms twitched—move, move, fucking move—

The world tilted when you shoved him back onto the floor. It wasn’t forceful enough to hurt, but it was enough to make one thing painfully clear—

He wasn’t in control.

You straddled him, your weight pressing down on him like a cage. Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back, forcing him to look at you.

Your hands slid over his body, exploring, claiming, violating.

Everywhere you touched felt like fire, but not the kind that burned away impurities. This fire was corrosive, eating away at him, leaving behind nothing but ash and shame.

Gojo wanted to die.

His body—his own body—betrayed him.

Heat pooled under his skin, a sick, involuntary reaction that made his stomach churn.

It meant nothing.

It meant nothing.

It meant nothing.

He wanted to laugh.

He wanted to vomit.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Not to him.

The strongest. The untouchable. The undefeated.

That’s what everyone thought.

That’s what he had always thought.

Until now.

Your voice cut through the haze, cooing words that sounded sweet but felt like poison.

Like nothing was wrong.

Like he was a willing participant.

Like he wasn’t lying there, wishing he could sink into the floor, wishing he could dissolve into nothingness, wishing he could sit under water and watch as his skin shredded away layer by layer until there was no trace of you left on him.

Until your touch became a bad dream, a distant memory, and not his reality.

He closed his eyes, desperate to escape, but his Six Eyes betrayed him.

They showed him everything—the way you looked at him, not as a person, but as meat.

As something to be devoured.

His arms refused to move, heavy and useless at his sides.

Was this the freeze response people talked about?

The body’s way of protecting itself when fight or flight wasn’t an option?

He shut his eyelids tighter, as if he could block out the world, block out you, block out the unbearable reality of what was happening.

But he couldn’t.

He could still feel your hands, your weight, your breath.

He could still hear your voice, soft and sickeningly sweet.

He could still see, even with his eyes closed, the way you looked at him—like he was nothing more than an object for your pleasure.

He waited.

Waited for it to end.

But it didn’t.

And all he could do was lie there, trapped in his own body, wishing for it all to be over.

Wishing for the nightmare to end.

Wishing for the strength to fight back.

But it never came.

And so, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And then—

A crack!!

The weight was gone.

Gojo barely felt himself collapse back on the floor, his body folding in on itself like a marionette with its strings cut.

His body still wasn’t listening.

Then he heard the sounds.

The sickening crunch of bone against bone.

The sharp, wet slap of flesh meeting flesh.

The guttural cries of a fight that wasn’t his to finish.

His body did not move.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t help.

Even as the fight broke out around him, even as voices—familiar, urgent, furious—got lost through the fog in his mind, even as he felt the warm splatter of blood against his skin, he remained still.

Paralyzed.

Helpless.

When the silence finally fell, heavy and suffocating, he felt something solid.

Warm. Safe.

A hand.

“Satoru.”

His whole body shuddered at the sound of his name, at the weight of it, at the way it anchored him back to reality.

Nanami was there.

Gojo’s hands, trembling and weak, gripped Nanami’s coat like it was the only thing keeping him from being swept away.

Nanami was real.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

The world had tilted off its axis, and he knew, deep in his bones, that he would never be able to straighten it again.

So he asked, because he had to.

“You believe me now, right?”

The words clawed their way out of his throat, raw and broken, the weight of them thick enough to drown him.

He was drowning.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, after everything, Kento finally spoke.

“I believed you then, too.”

Soft. Solid. Unshakable.

“She had ears on us. I couldn’t risk tipping her off.”

Gojo’s stomach dropped.

Because that meant—

That meant he had never been alone.

That meant Kento had known.

That meant someone had taken it seriously.

Gojo’s chest collapsed inward, the weight of it crushing him.

Like he had been bracing for something that never came.

Like he had been drowning alone this whole time when, in reality—

Kento had been there.

Had always been there.

His breath broke, a ragged, shuddering thing that tore through him like a storm.

He broke.

The strongest man in the world.

He didn’t let go of Kento.

He couldn’t.

His body still wasn’t listening, still frozen, still trapped in the aftermath of what had happened.

Because it knew.

It finally, finally knew.

And the knowledge was worse than the violation.

The realization that he had never been alone, that someone had seen, that someone had cared enough to take it seriously—it was too much.

Too much to bear.

And so, he clung to Kento, to the solid, unyielding presence of the one person who had believed him, who had been there all along.

Because if he let go, he wasn’t sure he’d survive the fall.

---

She was dead, but Gojo Satoru was afraid.

Of women.

Of touch.

Of himself.

Of what had already been taken from him.

And of what would never come back.

Gojo didn’t talk much anymore.

He laughed when he needed to, the sound hollow and rehearsed, a performance for the sake of those around him.

He joked when expected, the words slipping out like a reflex, but the humor never reached his eyes.

The mask fit perfectly, molded to his face over years of practice, but it was heavier now.

Heavier than Infinity.

Heavier than the weight of the world.

Because beneath it, he was breaking.

He didn’t touch anyone.

Not casually. Not intentionally. Not unless it was absolutely necessary.

And he didn’t let anyone close.

Not physically. Not emotionally.

The space around him became a fortress, walls built from the rubble of what had been done to him.

But the fortress wasn’t impenetrable.

It couldn’t keep out the memories.

The phantom sensations.

The way his body betrayed him, flinching at the slightest brush of a hand, freezing at the sound of footsteps behind him.

He felt it every time someone’s eyes lingered a little too long.

Every time he caught a glimpse of a smile that felt too familiar.

The weight of hands on his chest.

The warmth of breath against his skin.

The disgusting truth of it all.

And no one noticed.

Except for Kento.

The disgusting truth of it all.

And no one noticed.

Except for Kento.

Kento, who didn’t comment when Gojo’s hands shook as he reached for a cup of coffee.

Kento, who didn’t force a conversation when Gojo’s responses dwindled to single syllables or silence.

Kento, who—one day, in an empty hallway, when a female walked a little too close—stepped between them without a word.

It wasn’t just the hallway.

It was the little things.

The way Kento would subtly position himself between Gojo and anyone who got too close during meetings.

The way he would linger in the room after everyone else had left, fiddling with his phone, giving Gojo the space to breathe without the pressure of being watched.

The way he would hand Gojo a file or a pen without letting their fingers brush, a small but deliberate act of consideration.

And then there were the things Gojo didn’t even realize he needed until Kento provided them.

Like the time Gojo froze in the middle of a mission, his body locking up at the sight of a curse that bore an unsettling resemblance to her.

Kento didn’t ask questions.

He didn’t demand an explanation.

He simply stepped in, taking over the fight without a word, giving Gojo the space to retreat without shaming him for something that wasn’t his fault.

Or the time Gojo found himself unable to enter a room—that room, his feet rooted to the ground at the sound of laughter—her laughter, or at least something close enough to make his stomach churn.

Kento didn’t push him.

He didn’t tell him to get over it.

He just stood there, a silent presence at Gojo’s side, until the laughter faded and Gojo could breathe again.

Gojo didn’t thank him.

He couldn’t.

The words stuck in his throat, tangled up with everything else he couldn’t say.

But Kento didn’t seem to expect gratitude or even think of it.

He didn’t seem to expect anything at all.

He was just there.

Steady. Reliable. Unshakable.

Reminding him, even in the darkest corners of his mind, where the memories lingered like shadows, there was a light.

Faint, but there.

Kento didn’t touch Gojo. Didn’t even look at him.

But he was there.

A barrier.

A shield.

Gojo had never needed a shield before.

Now, he couldn’t survive without one.

A/N: The comments in this fic are real comments people have actually made about Gojo on Twitter & Reddit. "How would this actually play out in a realistic setting?" I’ve always had this thought lurking in the back of my mind whenever I read some of the feral, lawless thirst comments people make about Gojo. So I did what any sane person would: I turned it into a horror fic. Also, if you thought Gojo was too OP to be a victim… yeah, so did he. Now, tell me—be honest—what’s the worst Gojo thirst comment you’ve ever seen? 👀 Drop it in the comments. (Or, if this broke you emotionally, just leave a 🍞 emoji so I know you’re still breathing.)

All Works Masterlist

[barlowstreet]

I kinda feel like this deserves its own post

(Inspired by this post and these comments)

[barlowstreet]

Do you ever see something unhinged and think "I could do that"

Welp

@live-laugh-levente Thanks for the idea XD

(This is just a view link, you can't add videos to tumblr reblogs)

@tlounetwork | The Last of Us Week 2023 Day # 4: Favorite Supporting Character

It ends how it ends. Melanie Lynskey as Kathleen in S01E05: Endure and Survive

[speed-world]

Hello, im a fan of the self aware scenario you did with the coward y/n cookie, and I was wondering what their reactions would be of meeting the beast cookies

To be honest, you had no interest in going to Beast-Yeast, at all. After all, why would you? Whatever conflict the Ancients and other cookies had with each other didn’t concern you, not to mention that just the name - “Beast-Yeast” - already freaked you out.

If it weren’t for Pure Vanilla Cookie promising that your safety, due to the agreement between the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, you would’ve stayed comfortably in the Cookie Kingdom far away from the other continent.

You wish you never listened to Pure Vanilla now, because this beast - Shadow Milk Cookie - immediately wanted to make you run far, far away.

The jester scared you with his sinister and maniacal behavior. If you had a fear of clowns before entering the cookie world, then you’d pass out the more his actions continued.

After seeing the mental turmoil Pure Vanilla was experiencing, the loss of Elder Faerie Cookie, Shadow Milk’s terrifying powers and his “plays” that were mockeries of all the adversaries of the Beasts—the color blue might be your most hated now.

Yeah, you’d be completely fine and dandy if you never saw a hint of Shadow Milk’s Cookie ever again

However, he couldn’t stand to think of this meeting being your last…

How were you convinced to go back to Beast-Yeast a second time?? Suppose you can be grateful for that promise with the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie.

You actually really liked the Ivory Pagoda. The atmosphere was so serene and otherworldly, and warmly inviting…or dangerously alluring.

The company of Dark Cacao Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie, Crunchy Chip Cookie, and the Cacao warriors made this trip a whole lot more comfortable and relaxing. However, their presence couldn’t make things better when you finally came face to face with the other Beast - Mystic Flour Cookie.

You thought the slow creepiness of Cloud Haetae Cookie would be the worst of your problems, but at least the story they told was directed to the Ancient instead of you.

The second you saw that spider pop out of that cocoon, your soul ascended to the crossroads. Your body went so pale that Dark Cacao thought you succumbed to the pale ailment.

You really couldn’t articulate how much Mystic Flour scared you. Shadow Milk was insane, but this?! She’s so uncaring, so unrelenting in her belief of apathy, is it too late to stay with Peach Blossom Cookie for the rest of this journey?

Let’s not even get started on that face. You hated any related horror stuff in the real world, and now you’re seeing that in front of your face!!

Yeah no, forget this. Awesome job on Dark Cacao awakening, time to get on the first airship outta this place.

As much as you wanted to be as far away from Mystic Flour Cookie as possible, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Stared at by a force that you couldn’t look back at, no matter how hard you tried….

Hell. To the freaking. NO

Naaaaaah Golden Cheese Cookie, she’s crazy if she thinks you’re going to accompany her to Beast-Yeast. Promise be damned, they clearly didn’t account for the mental pain that you’ve suffered through.

Smoked Cheese Cookie seemed dead serious on agreeing with you, but Golden Cheese wouldn’t take no for an answer. You decided to stick close to Smoked Cheese, because the Beast is only focused on Golden Cheese after all, right?

Had it not been for the presence of Golden Cheese and Smoked Cheese, you wouldn’t have even thought of coming to this place. It’s hotter than a truck engine in the summer, a lot of these Spice cookies are pretty hostile, and—Oh God the sandstorms are the crumbs of dead cookies?!?????!

And then, you met him-Burning Spice Cookie. He’s already scary to look at, so you just hid your face whenever you saw or heard him.

His power is also way too scary-he doesn’t care about any collateral damage caused, heck he probably loves if there’s more of it! Smoked Cheese spent his time making sure that not even a crumb of you were harmed during the fight of Golden Cheese and Burning Spice.

You weren’t sure what freaked you out more: Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s unwavering devotion to such a being like Burning Spice, or the fact that Burning Spice Cookie does all that he does…for entertainment.

All the death, destruction, suffering he causes, everything, all for a cheap laugh?! Why-why again did you ever come here?!?

To make matters worse? Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese were locked away in a cage. But you? No, Burning Spice didn’t want you in confinement.

He found it much more amusing to have you by his side, attached to his hip and sitting on his lap.

Your soul departs each time he speaks, your breath is taken away when he breaks something, because you’re scared that it might be you he breaks next. Seeing him be so casual and collected after crushing Cilantro Cobra Cookie in front of your face was what set you over the edge.

You were panicking, screaming, tossing around. You wanted to leave now, no ifs, ands, or buts. You can’t take this anymore and-…

He-he’s staring at you….he’s in the middle of his second round fight with Golden Cheese Cookie, and he’s staring. Right. At. You.

You were eternally grateful for Smoked Cheese Cookie being so understanding, and being so quick in trying to get you out of this God forsaken continent.

But even as you were getting away, you heard his laugh. You know Golden Cheese struck him down, but you heard his faint sinister laugh; virtually paralyzing you in place.

Please, for your sake, can you never come back to Beast-Yeast ever again?!?

…

…

Where did this ticket come from?

[katszumi]

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

pt 2 of the study sesh

[shomatoriashi]

01/28/25; 05:41pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they call you because they miss you ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

you were settled at your desk, simply typing away on your laptop when you heard your phone go off from beside you. curiosity paints your expression when you look down to see your lover’s name flashing across the screen.

with a wide grin on your face, you answer your phone, “well hello, mr. sylus.”

you take a moment to bask in his rich chuckles, “well hello, little dove. i see that you’ve picked up the phone within a single ring. did you miss me that much?”

letting out a hum in response, you playfully spin around in your office chair, “you could say that. or maybe i was just bored at work.”

you shiver when sylus lets out a soft coo of your name. “my poor kitten, left to her own devices while stuck at work. perhaps i can help with mitigating your boredom?”

“yes! a thousand times yes!” you nearly jump out of your seat in response, since you really could go for a nice and refreshing date with your beloved, “but i am curious as to why you called me so suddenly. i thought the leader of onychinus would have been stuck in a meeting at this hour.”

you listen to his laughter once more, “perhaps i too, was feeling bored at work and wished to… hear the sound of your voice. try not to miss me as much as i miss you, kitten. i’ll pick you up after work and shall see you soon.”

after that single phrase, sylus hangs up the call, leaving you grinning like a fool as you fought back the urge to further twirl around in your seat.

you were in the middle of washing the dishes when you heard the sound of your phone going off in the distance. shutting off the faucet, you dry your hands on a towel and made a dash toward your phone settled on the coffee table, recognizing the name as you picked up the call immediately.

“zayne! hello…” you couldn’t hide your soft giggles, leaning into your phone to hear him better, “is everything alright?”

“of course, dear, everything is fine. i just got out of surgery, and it went well.” zayne trails off, and you swore you could picture him running his hands across his locks of hair. you smile once more and ask, “well, that’s good. is there anything you needed from me? did you forget something at the house that you needed me to bring?”

“no, of course not. everything’s fine, dear.”

you look at the time and bite down on your bottom lip, “you’re an awfully busy man, dr. zayne, and i just wanted to make sure that you didn’t need me to bring something to your office, hence why you called.”

“do i need a reason to hear your voice?”

you shiver upon hearing his admission, feeling the heat settle against your cheeks while allowing your smile to widen even further, “hehe, no… you don’t need a reason to hear my voice. i quite like hearing your voice, too.”

an amused chuckle was heard coming from the other line, “then it’s settled. i can take the rest of the day off, and i’d like to spend it with you, honey. would you like to go see a movie with me and have dinner later on?”

“of course! i-i’ll go ahead and get ready!” you bask in zayne’s laughter, following his silent urge to get ready as he begins his trek back home to you.

with your plans confirmed with zayne, you hang up the phone and prepared for your much needed date with zayne.

you were simply settled within the comfort of your bed, watching a movie on your phone when a sudden call breaks you out of your immersion. seeing your boyfriend’s name, you answer his call with a breathless, “hello?”

you nearly melt upon hearing xavier’s sweet whisper within your ear, “hey, i just wanted to call and check on you.”

“aw, that’s sweet of you.” you cling to your favorite bunbun plush while smiling into the phone. “but aren’t you on a mission right now?”

there was a few beats of silence on the other end, followed by the sound of xavier clearing his throat, “i am on a mission, but it’s been a few days since i’ve last seen you, and i miss hearing your voice.”

you nearly squeal into the plush at how cute xavier sounded, and you could practically see the pout on his face. “hehe, i’ve missed you, too…” feeling playful, you then proceed to ask, “are you pouting right now, xavi?”

you hear another series of coughs on the other end, with xavier spouting off denials before eventually caving in, “okay, maybe i was pouting a little bit.”

you were grinning into the phone while telling him, “how about when you come back home, we spend the day in together and have a movie marathon on the couch? and you can take all the naps you want, too.”

you bask in the sounds of xavier’s gentle laughter, detecting the happiness in his voice when he tells you, “that sounds like the perfect plan, i can’t wait to see you again.”

a few minutes later, you said your goodbyes to your boyfriend, allowing him to get back to work, but not before hearing him say to you, “wait for my return, okay? i’ll be thinking of you always.”

you felt a little sad at the fact that your boyfriend was away promoting his latest exhibit in another country-

but alas, due to your conflicting work schedules, you had to remain back at home while supporting rafayel from the sidelines. as you head back home for the day, a sudden call stops you from entering your car. extracting your phone out of your purse, you smile upon seeing rafayel’s nickname flash across the screen.

“hello hello, my little goober.”

“hey, i am not your goober! i’m a famous artist that you love and adore.” you giggle on the other line, already picturing rafayel’s pouting face and puffed cheeks, his gorgeous eyes filled with a playful indignation at your teasing.

you continue to softly laugh at your beloved, getting into your car while starting the engine, “and you also happen to be a little bit of a spoiled brat as well.”

“yeah, but i’m your spoiled brat.” rafayel admits with an amused chuckle, making you smile in response. “how’s your exhibit doing?”

“ugh, it’s utterly boring without you here, princess. honestly, i should have brought you with me.”

you were about to remind him about how you had to work, only to stop speaking when rafayel continues explaining, “but i guess i’ll just have to make do with calling you, just to hear your voice.”

“aw rafe, you missed my voice?”

the artist lets out a scoff on the other end, “of course i do. i miss everything about you, princess.”

before you could reply, you heard a deep voice on the other line, with rafayel letting out a sigh, “sorry princess, some people are waiting to interview me, and i can’t turn them down. i’ll call you later, before you go to sleep, so wait for me?”

“of course, rafe. i’ll always wait for you.”

you giggle once more upon hearing him blowing you kisses through the phone, “drive safely back home!” he tells you before hanging up the call, leaving you smiling as warmth was felt coursing through your veins.

you had to go back home after spending two weeks at skyhaven with caleb. despite how you wanted to stay with him much longer, you had already used up your vacation days at work and had to return.

currently, you were on your lunch break, simply munching on a sandwich when your phone begins to ring. you put down your food and smile upon seeing caleb’s name across your screen, answering his call within a mere few seconds.

“caleb? hello… how are you doing?”

“terrible.” was his simple answer, yet you could picture the smile in his voice.

“aw, and why are you feeling terrible?”

“because i miss you so much already.”

your heart melts upon hearing his confession, making you sigh as you tell him, “of course. i miss you so much, too. even though we spent a whole two weeks together.”

“exactly. see, that’s why i always knew you were the perfect girl for me. we just… feel so strongly about each other. i don’t like being away from you for even a second.” you giggle a bit at his admission, “i feel… flattered that the colonel could feel so strongly about little ol’ me.”

caleb grumbles a bit at your teasing, and you swore you could picture the light dust of pink settled across his defined cheekbones. “of course, you mean everything to me…” he trails off for a moment before letting out a chuckle, “that’s why, this time i’m going to spend some time at your place. i took a total of three weeks off, just so i can come and see you.”

you frown a bit while clutching your phone tighter against your ear. this was strange, but why did it sound like caleb was getting louder and louder, with a bit of an echo heard on the other line?

“you can’t tell me that you haven’t missed me, too.” you gasp, finally noticing the tall figure that was seen from your periphery. trailing your gaze upwards, you recognized his signature jacket and boyish grin, immediately hanging up the phone before jumping into caleb’s arms.

he laughs, fully embracing you now by wrapping his arms around your frame while giving your cheek an audible kiss. “i’m here, pipsqueak.”

and you couldn’t be happier at seeing your beloved colonel again, ready to spend your days basking in the warmth of his embrace.

end notes: some fluff to destress and keep me awake 😭 my meds have been making me feel sleepier than usual so i’m writing and posting this to stay awake 🥹

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[likeumeanit9497]

metal | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n got a few new piercings, and when her best friend matt asks to see them, she can't say no

warnings: smut; unprotected p in v (bad); oral (fem receiving); masturbation (m/f); phone sex; dirty talk; 18+

notes: hiii guys. i feel like tumblr's flakiest writer ever coming back on here every few weeks with a one-shot and telling u all im gonna be more consistent but then just not being consistent at all. i just started a new college program and it is taking up so (!!!!) much of my time, so ive been barely able to put any time towards writing for funsies. soooo it might take me a couple weeks to put out one shots (sad) while im in this program, but i swear im doing the best i can. i appreciate u all so so so so much, but matt girls this one is for u <33

With a sigh of relief, I crawled into bed. It was late, and I was exhausted after a long day of dealing with family shit. The only thing that got me through my day listening to my dead-beat father come up with yet another excuse on why he no-showed at my birthday dinner was the promise that, at the end of the day, I would be able to curl up in bed and forget all of my problems. Now that time had come, and I couldn’t wait to turn on some trashy reality TV show and lose myself in their cushioned world for a little while.

Just as I started the show, I felt my phone vibrate beside me. For just a moment I was filled with dread — thinking that I would be once again pulled back into the drama that was my father — but once I saw the name at the top of my screen, I felt my body relax. Matt was calling.

Matt was my best friend, and he had been for years. Him and I met on the first day of school freshman year, and immediately became inseparable. He was the only person in my life who I ever felt comfortable around enough to truly open up to about my problems. There really wasn’t much in my life that he didn’t know, so of course I had told him last night that I was going to see my father, and of course that was why he was calling. Annoyingly, I felt a smile creep up on my face. I hated that I loved how involved he got with my problems; as if they were his own. I would never admit this to anyone, but it really helped because it made me feel less alone.

“Hey you.” I greeted him after accepting the call. “Hey Y/n.” His voice sounded familiar in my ear, and already it calmed the sea of bad thoughts crashing in my mind. “How did today go?” He asked, keeping his tone light. I knew though that if I could see his face, there would be faint lines of concern etched in his forehead. I sighed. “Exactly like I knew it would. He gave me an insincere apology and weak excuse the way he always does.” Matt stayed silent on the other side of the call, allowing me the time to tell him as much as I wanted. His soft breathing through the speaker, however, comforted me and let me know that he was listening.

“He smelled like a distillery and couldn’t stop slurring his words, yet he was still trying to tell me that he hadn’t drank all week.” I heard my voice weaken, and I hated that I felt a lump forming in my throat over the situation. I hated that I cared, and I definitely didn’t want anyone to know that I did; even Matt. But of course, he knew anyways. I heard an empathetic sigh through the phone. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” I rolled my eyes, doing everything I could to keep the tears from falling. “It’s whatever. It’s not like I’m really losing much, but I did tell him that I’m done for good.” I forced my words to come out smooth, like I didn’t care. And I didn’t, not really.

“That must have been really hard, Y/n. I’m really sorry.” Matt’s words were sincere, and they caused the lump in my throat to grow even bigger. I forced out a laugh to keep my other emotions at bay. “Don’t be sorry. It’s better this way. Maybe now I can finally have peace in my crazy life.” There was silence on the line, and I knew it was because Matt wanted me to go deeper about my feelings, but I couldn’t handle much more tonight.

“Anyways,” I started, blinking away my tears and plastering a corny smile on my face as if Matt could even see it, “How have you been? We haven’t talked much over the past week.” At the change of subject, Matt picked up on my disinterest in the topic of my father, and like the best friend he is, transitioned into our new topic smoothly. “I’ve been good, been working a lot but it’s been on exciting things. What have you been up to? You know, besides today?” I chuckled softly.

“Honestly not much besides work. My boss has been really stressed out since the end of last quarter so I’ve been coming into the office early and staying well past five every day.” I paused, staring up at my ceiling trying to think if there was anything exciting I could tell Matt. Suddenly, I remembered that there actually was something that I had done that was more interesting than just working late all week. “Oh! I also got some new piercings last week.” It was Matt’s turn to chuckle.

“Y/n, how the fuck did you fit more piercings on your body?” I laughed. He was right, both of my ears were filled with every piercing imaginable, and I also had my nose, tongue, and belly button pierced. I had already told him that I would never get anymore facial piercings, and I certainly didn’t have much room on my ears to get more, so I understood his confusion entirely. “Do you want to guess where they are?” I teased, feeling relieved to have something to talk about that didn’t make be absolutely miserable for once. “Sure,” I heard what sounded like a blanket rubbing against the speaker, and I assumed that Matt was now getting comfortable in bed, also seemingly enjoying the light-hearted conversation, “But can I get some hints?”

“Sure,” I replied, “You can ask me three questions.” I heard him smile through the phone. “Okay…” There was a pause as he came up with his first question. “How many did you get?” Without hesitation, I was able to respond. “I got three.” There was another pause, and then. “Are two of them a part of a pair?” I laughed at Matt’s not-so-subtle guess. I had told him months ago that I had been wanting to get a certain pair of piercings for a while, and I knew he was thinking of that exact conversation. “Yes they are.” I replied, and there was a dramatic gasp on the line. “Ouch, you actually got your nipples pierced?” His voice was laced with playful concern, and something else. Intrigue?

“Okay okay, you got two out of the three. One more question left.” I encouraged him. If he was shocked about my nipple piercings, I couldn’t wait to hear his reaction to the third. He was silent again for a moment, surely confused by the third piercing. Nipple piercings weren’t that outlandish for me, and he knew that, but this last one is sure to blow his mind. “Oh god, I don’t know. Is it another body piercing?” His tone sounded so helpless, and I knew he really didn’t have a clue. “It is, yes.” I did my best to contain my laughter at this point, not wanting to give it away.

“Is it a second belly button piercing?” The guess was weak, and by the tone of his voice he knew it. “Nope.” I replied, biting my nails in anticipation. He was once again silent on the phone, and I knew he was officially running out of ideas. After a moment, I decided to give him one last hint. “Think lower.”

A new silence poured from the phone. Before, there was the silence of deep thought. Now, there was a heavier silence that let me know he finally put it together in his head. Below your belly button, there aren’t many places you can get pierced. He knew that just as much as I did. But I didn’t know if his silence meant he was just shocked, or if he was genuinely disappointed in me. For the first time since becoming friends with Matt, I felt nervous that maybe I had gone too far.

“You’re serious?” He asked, finally breaking his silence, and I couldn’t help but release a short, nervous laugh. “Yeah. Why? Did I just delve too far into the daddy-issues stereotype?” I tried to keep my tone humorous, but inside I was actually worried that was true. Did he think I was weird now? Or did the fact that I had a piece of metal pierced atop my bundle of nerves immediately turn me into some dirty whore in his eyes?

“No! Jesus, no Y/n.” His rushed words put a pause on my spiralling thoughts, and I felt myself relax slightly. “It’s just,” In that moment, I wished that I could see his face. At least then I would have better odds of being able to read him instead of just waiting helplessly on the other side of the phone. He was struggling to find the words he wanted to say, and in my mind that meant he was getting ready to give me some sort of lecture. It wasn’t something that he was in the habit of doing, but I had also never done anything as shocking as this before. I began to prepare myself for this lecture, and come up with explanations and excuses for what I had done, when his hesitant words stopped me in my tracks.

“Can I see them?”

I stared at my phone for a second, unsure if I was just hearing things. “You want to see them?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, for clarification’s sake. I was shocked. Even with how close Matt and I are, we had never ever seen each other naked. In fact, there had been no physical intimacy between us other than platonic cuddles every once in a while. I would be lying, though, if I denied ever having moments of weakness. There had been times, when we would have sleepovers after tough days and the heat of Matt’s comforting body pressed against me, where I had wanted to throw all logic aside and press my lips to his. But I never would have done it. Matt wasn’t exactly known for his boldness, and I feared that my bad habit of being spontaneous would absolutely destroy our friendship. But now, he had me questioning all of that.

“I’m curious.” He replied, his tone nonchalant. I still couldn’t tell if he was being serious, and I felt like a deer in headlights. Just as I was about to tell him to stop fucking around, my screen lit up with a Facetime call from Matt. My stomach did a flip. “You gonna pick up?” His voice made me jump, but I cleared my throat and hit accept.

Suddenly, Matt’s face filled my screen. He was in his bed, the only light in his room seeming to come from a faint source; likely his computer screen. His face was so familiar, and the smile he sent me so comforting, that I immediately felt more at ease than I felt before. “Hey.” He said gently, and I laughed at the ridiculousness of this moment. “Hey” I replied before shifting my position in bed nervously. “So you were serious?” I asked awkwardly, and he nodded. “If you’re okay with it, obviously.” I took a deep breath. I was okay with it, of course, but it was just so out of the norm for us that I felt shell shocked.

“I’ll show you nipples first.” I said, sitting up in my bed before grabbing the bottom hem of my oversized t-shirt. I positioned my phone in front of my still-clothed chest, and watched his face on the screen. He laid naturally in bed, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but the way his dilated blue eyes were glued to the screen I could tell that he was feeling the same kind of anticipation that I was. Slowly, I finally lifted my shirt up over my chest; allowing him a full view of my new piercings.

I intentionally left the shirt up to block my own vision, because I couldn’t handle watching him stare at my tits for the first time. In the dark, all I heard was silence for what felt like forever, and I got worried that I had somehow lost him. Cautiously, I pulled my t-shirt away from my eyes, and glanced at him on the screen. He was staring intently; I could see his eyes move from one tit to the other every few seconds, and there was a slight grin across his face. “Wow.” He said finally, still taking them in. “Those are sick piercings.” I stifled a laugh at the fact that he was still trying to act like it was all just about the piercings, and that there weren’t two tits attached to the metal. “Thanks.” I replied, a small chuckle still evident in my voice.

I allowed him a few more seconds of shameless staring before speaking again. “You ready for the third?” I watched as he blinked a few times and took a deep breath. “I can’t wait.” He replied, causing my stomach to do another flip. I brought the phone back up to my face as I laid back down, smiling at him nervously as I pulled my comforter off my lower body. I was only wearing a pair of panties, so I already felt shy when I positioned my phone in between my legs. I used the front camera still, hoping that it would allow him a better view, but hated that you could still see the lower part of my face.

Matt hadn’t moved in his bed since I looked at him last. In fact, it almost looked like his image was frozen. His eyes were still glued to the screen, and he seemed to be barely blinking; as if he was scared that if he did, he would miss it entirely. “Okay, ready?” I asked, using the hand that wasn’t holding the phone steady to grab onto the side of my panties. Even in the almost-dark of his room, I could see him gulp before nodding his head. “Ready.” He replied.

Slowly, I hooked a finger under my panties, and pulled them to the side. In the blink of an eye, all of me had been revealed to Matt through a screen inches away from my core. My eyes veered back and forth from myself in the phone and Matt’s expression. I could see the shiny metal glitter against my pink clit, and watched as Matt visibly struggled to keep his composure. Neither of us spoke for a moment, and I felt myself begin to tremble under his shameless stare. I grew nervous, then, that my body would begin to give away how suddenly aroused I became under his eyes. My core was flooding with heat, and I knew that I was beginning to grow slick with my wetness.

“Does it hurt?” He finally spoke, but his voice had changed drastically since I had last heard it. It had dropped nearly a whole octave, and there was a sort of breathlessness to it that was foreign to me. It was the voice of arousal, and that knowledge was enough to drive me crazy. “N-no, it doesn’t,” I replied, using all the strength in me to not squeeze my legs together to relieve some of the pressure flooding my core. “It’s been a week, and these sorts of piercings heal really quick surprisingly. I can touch it and everything.” My last sentence fell from my mouth thoughtlessly, and I immediately felt my cheeks grow hot at my accidental boldness. That didn’t last long, though, because Matt’s next words pulled all that heat right back to where it was before.

“So touch it then.”

It was like all the sense was knocked out of me from his words. I would have thought that my instinct would have been to laugh and roll my eyes before telling Matt to knock it off, but the seriousness of his tone, the sharp blue of his piercing eyes, and gruffness of his voice caused my brain to shut off. Immediately, my hand traveled to my bud, where I began to slowly play with the metal. Although I had been telling the truth when I told Matt that it was fully healed, I hadn’t yet touched myself in this way since getting it pierced, and the new sensation immediately sent pleasurable shock waves through my body. As I began to slowly rub my clit, the metal added a new level of pressure to the nerves that — combined with the adrenaline that came from doing this in front of my best friend for the first time — caused me to throw my head back against my pillows.

“Tell me how it feels.” Matt’s deep voice filled the space around me in a way that made me feel even more erotic, and I released a soft moan. “I-It feels good.” I replied breathlessly, my fingers beginning to move quicker as I squeezed my eyes shut in pleasure. “Better than before?” His question came out slightly choppy, and through the phone speaker I heard the rhythmic shuffling of his comforter. “Y-yes. Much better.” I managed to reply, the thought of what he was doing to himself on the other side of the screen pushing me closer to the edge.

“Look at me.” He commanded, and without hesitation I lifted my head up; looking at him through the screen. He could only see the lower half of my face, but I could see all of his. As I continued toying with myself, I watched him through fluttering eyelashes. Although his face had not changed much — besides the darkening of his pupils and the faint accumulation of sweat on his brow — the repetitive movement of his bicep at the corner of the screen told me everything that I needed to know. “You look so good.” He complimented me, his voice low and gravelly. I moaned in response, rolling my hips slowly as I began to grow antsy with a need that I knew I couldn’t fulfill myself.

The pleasure was growing like a balloon deep inside of me, but my own fingers weren’t enough to reach it. Not now; not when I have a beautiful man that I trust more than anyone else watching me with that dangerously erotic gaze. Just like Matt knows everything about me, I know everything about him. And so I know that, in this moment, he wants the same thing that I do. That’s why I didn’t feel any unease or hesitation when I drew my fingers away from my clit, ran them achingly slow along the rest of my heat, and spoke.

“Please come over Matt.”

It was a request that I had made to him countless times. Those times I was usually close to tears after a long day of dealing with the shitty cards I had been handed in the family department. I needed him then, like I need him now. In those times he never ever hesitated, and this time was no different. In one swift motion, I watched through the screen as Matt lifted himself out of his bed, threw on a t-shirt, and grabbed his keys off the bedside table. “I’ll be there in ten.” Just like my request, his response was the same as always. As I told him to drive safe before hanging up the call, I felt my body vibrate in a way it never had before. I pulled my hand out of my panties and waited in desperate anticipation for the familiar sound of his car pulling into my driveway.

𓆩☆𓆪

Matt arrived at my place in eight minutes, and as soon as I saw his headlights through my window, I sprung out of bed and raced to the door. There was no nervousness, no reluctancy, no questioning whether or not we were making a big mistake; all I knew was that I needed his hands on my burning skin desperately.

I flung the door open before he even had a chance to knock, but Matt didn’t hesitate before pulling me into him and engulfing my mouth with his own. Although we had never kissed before, it wasn’t shock that I felt in that moment; it was the melting satisfaction of familiarity. I practically collapsed in his arms as his mouth moved against mine as if they were two pieces of a puzzle, and relished in the feeling of his hands travelling wildly across my aching body at last.

As he held me gently against the wall, I felt his hardened member press against my core, and I shuddered in pleasurable frustration. In that moment, I could have lost all self control — pulled his pants and boxers down in one movement and slipped his cock into my aching core right then and there — if he hadn’t grabbed onto my ass and lifted me off of the ground. Without removing his lips from mine, he carried me past my entrance way and all the way into my dark bedroom as if he had memorized every square inch of my place.

As he continued to kiss me with hungry desire, he paradoxically draped my body gently against my bed. Leaning over me, his mouth refused to leave mine and his tongue begged me for entrance. I obliged, and our tongues swirled together with comfort; as if they were old friends. The sound of our heavy breathing filled my head, and I ran my hands along his body; allowing myself to feel him in a way I never had before. Each part of him felt familiar — his back, his arms, his stomach — but each new part of him I touched set off sparks of electricity under my fingertips. This was real, and this was good.

It was only after I began toying with the waistband of his pants, and he the hem of my shirt, that our lips separated and we really looked at each other since the moment he arrived. Both of our chests were heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I gazed up at his darkened eyes for what felt like forever, until a soft smile crept onto his swollen lips. “Hi.” He said, and I released a short laugh realizing that this was the first word either one of us had said to the other since hanging up the Facetime call. “Hey.” I replied, a smile matching his now etched onto my face.

“Can I take this off?” He tugged on the bottom of my t-shirt, and I nodded. “Please.” I replied, feeling no shame in my clear desperation. Matt obliged, pulling the shirt up over my head and exposing the tits he had seen on Facetime not long before. There was a pause, and for the first time since we started all this I felt briefly insecure. That is, until I looked up to his face and saw his jaw physically dropped in awe. He looked like he had fallen into some sort of trance, and mindlessly brought his two gentle hands toward my hardened, pierced nipples. He ran a soft thumb against each piercing, and I hissed at the deliciously taunting sensation.

“Do these ones hurt at all?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but his eyes never left my chest. “These ones do a little, yeah.” I replied, to which his eyes finally fluttered up to my face with slight concern. “But it’s really not that bad.” I added, reassuring him out of fear that he might suddenly not want to continue. This seemed to help, as his eyes made their way back to my chest before his body suddenly began tilting forward. He leaned above my chest, really only centimetres away, and I watched as he placed two small, unbelievably gentle kisses against each hardened nipple. The ecstasy I felt in that moment caused me to release a soft moan, and goosebumps spread across my skin like wildfire, and I suddenly realized that I needed him more than ever.

As if reading my mind, his mouth then began moving slowly down my writhing body. He took his time on my sternum, then the skin below my belly button, then my hip bones, and I felt like I could explode. My hands flew to his hair and I subconsciously tugged at its base in decadent frustration. And then slowly, so, so, slowly, Matt began dragging my soaked panties down my legs. I felt like I could crumble under his gaze, but his eyes never left my newly exposed core. Blinking ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees and grabbed my shaky legs to part them. Once he did, I watched as he groaned softly at what he saw.

I knew without having to look that I was literally dripping from arousal, and that hunch was confirmed when Matt took one finger and dragged it along my slit; collecting the overabundance of fluid. He didn’t even take his eyes off of my centre, he just brought his wet finger to his mouth and wrapped his lips around it; so transfixed by what he saw in front of him that he didn’t even care to make a scene of tasting me for the first time. I had never felt more glorious than I did in that moment, and it was so overwhelming that I could have came just from sight alone.

Slowly, Matt’s mouth inched closer and closer to my clit, before he carefully wrapped his lips around it. Upon the first contact of his warm tongue playing with the cool metal of my piercing, I was hit with a powerful wave of pleasure that shook my whole body. As he picked up speed, swirling and sucking my bundle of nerves, I couldn’t control the sounds that fell from my lips. Moans of pleasure, pain, and anticipation filled the room, and they only seemed to draw similar ones from Matt.

Matt slid two fingers into me with ease, and began pumping them in and out in rhythm with the movements of his tongue. His fingers were curled up to just the place I needed them to be, and I felt what was left of my sanity begin to crumble as I approached an orgasm. The orgasm that I had been desperately needing since our Facetime call. It’s impending presence had taken control of my mind for what felt like forever, and now it was finally threatening to take control of my entire body. Yet, still, I needed more.

Quickly, before the first waves could crash, I pulled Matt’s face away. Immediately, his blissed-out expression quickly changed to one of concern, but before he had the chance to speak, my desperate voice filled the room. “Please Matt, I want to cum with you.” His features softened before understanding flashed in his eyes. Without saying a word, he stood up and began unzipping his pants. I waited in anticipation, watching with hungry eyes as his painfully hard member sprung free from his boxers. Once he had fully discarded his clothes, he leaned down and kissed me so deeply that I saw stars. His mouth tasted like me, and I couldn’t help but slip my tongue past his lips; intoxicated by the combination of me and him on my tastebuds.

I felt his naked member press against my core and I shuddered from pure lust. I was so engulfed in the intensity that I was afraid I would fall into pieces as soon as he slid into me. Breaking the kiss, Matt straightened himself out and grabbed my legs before placing them on either side of his waist. The two pieces of us that needed each other the most right now were just inches from one another. My eyes fell between my legs, and I watched in euphoric awe as Matt grabbed his swollen member, lined it up with my centre, and slowly pushed into me. His movements were so torturously, deliciously slow, my eyes rolled and my head fell back onto the mattress.

On each slow roll of his hips, his cock slammed into my g-spot and made my vision go spotty. I held onto his flexed shoulders like I was drowning and they were my life raft, and I released harsh guttural moans each time my walls stretched; welcoming him graciously. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Matt’s raspy voice fluttered my stomach, and I opened my eyes to come face-to-face with him. He was staring down at my contorted face with a look filled with nothing but pleasure and adoration. His flushed cheeks and dark pink lips gave him a look that bordered on innocent, but there was a certain hint of hard focus in the depths of his ocean eyes that told me he was feeling as good as I was.

Each time he thrusted into me, the soft crest of his pelvis brushed ever so lightly against my new piercing; granting me a new form of pleasure that I had never experienced before. I had been told by other people that the piercing can be intense during sex, but I had underestimated just how intense it would be. I had no sense of control as Matt’s cock continued to drive into me, and I couldn’t help but vocalize how he was making me feel.

“J-just like that Matt, fuck!”

“Your c-cock fills me s-so go-od!”

“H-harder, please baby!”

At my last statement, Matt showed he was listening by suddenly slamming into me harder and faster than I had ever felt before. He grabbed my legs and wrapped them tightly around his waist, and as I arched my back in pleasure he draped one of his arms around it and used the other to hold my jaw; brushing it lightly with his thumb to ensure me that his gentleness had not completely disappeared. His breathing quickly grew more and more rapid, and deep grunts fell from his mouth every few seconds.

I was hit with shockwaves of pleasure upon each of his thrusts, and I knew that my orgasm was closer than ever. I dug my nails into his back and tightened my legs around him in a desperate and subconscious attempt at getting as close as possible to him, and it was clear that there was no stopping the orgasm that was bubbling inside of me. “G-gonna cum Matt.” I squeaked out, rolling my hips up slightly deepen his thrusts even more. “Good girl, want me to cum with you?” His words were in my ear, and even the dampness that his mouth made against my skin added to my unraveling euphoria. Beyond the point of being able to speak correctly, I simply nodded my head frantically.

As I did, Matt released the deep moan that pushed me over the edge. My orgasm took control of every cell in my body, and I cried out in overwhelming pleasure as it tore me to shreds. I felt my body stiffen so much that I was practically lifting off of the bed, and my walls pulsed intensely as I squirted violently all over Matt. Just then, I felt Matt’s body stiffen above me, and his movements became a whisper as he cursed into my ear. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” His moans rang in my ear with each of his weak thrusts, and I felt his twitching cock paint my walls white as he came undone in unison with me.

Eventually, his body stilled completely, and he rested above me as we both caught our breaths and came down from our highs. His cock slipped out of me, and I immediately felt cold and empty in its absence. After a few moments, Matt lifted his head from my shoulder and gazed at me with a soft smile on his face.

“Damn.”

“I know.”

”I mean, that was-”

“I know.”

We continued to stare at each other, both with matching smiles on our faces, until I dissolved into childish giggles.

“What?” Matt asked, unable to keep himself from laughing as well. “What?” He asked again, nudging my shoulder gently as I giggled. “I mean come on,” I continued to laugh, “That was crazy. Don’t you think it was crazy?” I looked at him, starting to feel the first hints of regret now that it was over and we had to go back to being friends. “I don’t think it was crazy.” He replied simply, before bringing his lips back to mine. This kiss was different than the other ones we shared tonight, though. There was no hunger, no lust. There was just love.

He pulled away after only a few moments, and I looked back at him with what I was sure was confusion all over my face. “I have never felt less crazy in my life than I’ve felt tonight.” Matt continued, and I felt my stomach flutter, “Tonight, everything finally feels right.” I felt a bashful smile form on my lips. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the exact same way. “So,” I started, unsure of how to maneuver this, “What now?” Matt got up.

“Well,” He began, grabbing his discarded t-shirt and using it to gently clean me up, “It’s late and you’ve had a long day, so I think we should get some sleep.” I propped myself up on my shoulders and watched as he began to clean himself next. “And then when we wake up tomorrow, we’ll go get some breakfast and talk about what we both want.” He walked into my adjacent bathroom and started the shower, the way he has done a thousand times before, before walking back to where I was and helping me off the bed.

Once I was on my feet, he placed another gentle kiss against my lips, and I felt my insides melt at the comfort of his touch. “But if I’m being completely honest, which you know I always am, I think we both already know we want the same thing.” I looked up at him through nervous eyelashes, and had to chew my bottom lip to stifle the massive smile that was threatening to take over my mouth. Matt had no problem showing his huge smile, and he tilted his head quizzically in my silence. “Am I right?” He asked, and instead of responding with words, I leaned up and placed a kiss of my own on his lips.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[xxsabitoxx]

Pale Blue [Part One]

Geto Suguru x AFAB Pregnant Reader

READ PART TWO HERE

Warnings: THIS FIC IS CANON COMPLIANT, if you are not caught up on Jujutsu Kaisen's manga, or at the very least if you have not seen "gojo's past" you WILL be spoiled. This story contains darker themes, heavier topics, pregnancy and all the lovely details of it, and lastly explicit sexual content. Read at your own risk!

A/N: Here it is!! Part One!! This fic is super self indulgent for me and I'm very excited for y'all to read it. The idea literally came to me in a dream like a month ago and I woke up and immediately started writing. It's been a long ass time since I've written a plot heavy fic, and it's been well over a year since I've actively planned a multiple part story and gone through with it. So, this fic is kinda like... my baby lol.

Word Count: 19k | Playlist

September 2007

Your mouth felt like chalk, hands trembling ever so slightly as you set the small wand on the countertop in your bathroom. You couldn't think straight, but that unfortunately wasn’t anything new, it had been that way for the last three weeks. Ever since he left, you had felt like your head was stuck in a fishbowl. People eyeing you with pity at the world you had been dropped into, their whispers muffled into incoherent nonsense as you walked by. Satoru was no better off, but he could at least tug his emotions off of his sleeves and place them in his heart where nobody could see them, except for you. At least you would be able to see them if he didn’t shut you out. 

Not that you had been any kinder, you had withdrawn too. 

The only one who seemed alright was Shoko, her reaction to Suguru’s deflection was nothing out of character. Not many things could shock her to her core, even something as absurd as what Suguru had done couldn’t wipe the gentle smile from her face when she saw him again. You envied her for that level of composure. You envied her for getting to see him again, just as you envied Satoru. For some reason, the man evaded you as if you were the plague. Or perhaps it looked like you were merely chasing after a ghost, a figment of your imagination. You kind of wished that it was true, that Geto Suguru had been someone you conjured up in your mind. 

But he wasn’t, he was a real, breathing human who had taken over one hundred lives…. Including his parents. The thought made your mouth taste like metal, everytime you zoned out too long and thought too hard, you’d bite your inner cheek until it bled. Three weeks later you still felt like you were moving on autopilot, the only thing that could pull you out of it would be his gentle embrace. You blinked a bit, the metallic taste coating your tongue as you unclench your jaw and look in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself, for a moment  you think you look just like him, and it's enough to steal the little air you had in your lungs. 

You had never thought you'd experience a heartbreak as severe as this one, and you especially didn’t think it would be dealt to you by Suguru. Though you saw all of the signs, the hundreds if not thousands he put out and never let you touch. No, his cries for help were always directed at Satoru. The white haired man never seemed to catch them, and if he did, he never said a thing. Suguru had refused to acknowledge his issues when he was with you, no matter how many times you tried to sit him down and get it out. He’d change the subject and move on. 

He’d sweet-talk you, making you forget why you had been so concerned in the first place because there, for a fleeting moment, was the boy you had fallen in love with two years prior. He’d fill your mind with nothing but good things, pretty noises, good feelings. Not stopping until his name was all you could utter, not stopping until you fell asleep in his arms, content and sedated. He was a master at avoidance, trying so hard to keep things perfect just for you. You were beginning to hate him for it, but even the idea of hating him made bile burn your throat. 

You were left in emotional turmoil, love mixing with hate mixing with rage and depression. No matter how many times the word hate flashed through your mind, it was never truly directed at Suguru. Rather the jujutsu world, the things they had forced upon him, the pressure he had been made to feel. You especially felt that bubbling hate for a certain man by the name of Fushiguro Toji, who caused this whole spiral. He was long gone now, Satoru had effectively put the man down and he would not be getting back up. Though it killed you to no end that he got the easy way out. You almost wished that Satoru had kept the man alive. 

You couldn’t stomach it as your back pressed into the cold wall of your bathroom, arms folded over your chest as you stared at nothing in particular. Eyes refusing to focus on anything of importance but making a point to avoid the developing test on the counter. 

Suguru had left you a note, shortly after his final conversation with Satoru. You had returned to your dorm to see it on your bed and you recognized his handwriting before you even read your name on the envelope. You could still feel your hands trembling as you ripped the paper, flinching as it cut your skin, crumbling as tears dripped down your cheeks. You read it three times before finally comprehending the words, the paper littered with tear drops and your blood. Every word was written with care, you could hear his voice as your eyes passed over each sentence, see his face before you as if he was speaking. 

It was an apology, his resolve and a goodbye all in one. Leaving you more empty than you had felt before. Still, it sat on your nightstand, you couldn’t throw it away. As if his sweaters weren’t still hanging in your closet, like the blanket he got you wasn’t still sitting on your bed. You held onto that letter like it was the last thing you had of him. Mourning him as if he had died, like he wasn’t still alive and breathing and walking around within the very city you were in now. You almost thought it would be easier if he had died. At least you’d feel some sort of closure, knowing he’s not coming back. But this, this was a form of torture for you. 

To know that you could bump into him at a restaurant, or even pass him on a busy street. He wasn’t gone, if anything he was doing better than he ever was. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and everyone else behind to pick up the shattered pieces. Still, you couldn’t hate him for that. No amount of anger would mend the torn pieces of your broken heart. You were fairly certain nothing would, the only cure was the one man you could no longer call your own. You’d spend the rest of your life with your heart ripped wide, an empty void filling the space. 

You inhaled deeply, pushing off the bathroom wall and taking a hesitant step towards the counter. The test was upside down, you couldn’t see the small little window that would show you the results, for a moment you wanted to pick it up and throw it in the trash without even looking. There was nothing stopping you from doing so either, but you held back anyways. The only reason you were taking a pregnancy test in the first place was because your period was two weeks late. You could easily chalk it up to stress, but at the same time you knew all too well that you and Suguru often went without protection. Idiot. 

Somehow, despite his inner battles, Suguru’s sex drive never slowed down. Maybe it was the craving for physical touch or maybe sex was a great way for him to forget about his issues for a while. Regardless, you had always been eager to oblige, even if it meant falling into his traps and luring your attention away from the real issue at hand. You had no idea how long it had been and if the damn thing was positive you were sure it would show up by now. So you picked it up and flipped it over in your hand, tired eyes scanning it. Your forehead creased for a moment, eyes squinting in frustration because you couldn’t tell if there was a second line or not. 

If it’s positive, it's too early to tell. Your grip tightens around the small plastic test, anger flooding your heart as you chuck it in the trash can with such force it rattles as it hits the wall. Once again you are left with uncertainty. It seemed nobody could give you a straight answer anymore. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what you wanted that test to say. The thought of being pregnant with his child would have elated you two months ago. Now the thought made your insides twist and turn, for a moment you thought you were going to puke again. At the very same time, the idea of the test being negative felt like a rug being pulled out from under you. 

As if you didn’t know that feeling well enough. 

In a twisted way, you thought that being pregnant would bring him back to you. As if it would erase every heinous crime he had committed and bring the man you loved back into your arms. You were foolish, but not foolish enough to really believe in those daydreams. You hauled yourself out of your bathroom and back into your dorm room, falling into your disheveled bed with a soft thump. His t-shirt was hanging loosely on your body, it still smells faintly of him. It’s the only shirt of his that you’d been wearing, too afraid to lose his scent on the others. 

It was still early enough for you to sleep for a few more hours before Shoko was knocking on your door and hauling you into the world. You hated it, but she assured you that you’d thank her for it in a couple months. You doubted it, and for some reason you felt like she did too. 

Your sleep was dreamless, it had been since Suguru left you. You weren’t quite sure if you were thankful for that or not. Suguru was still the last thing you thought about before falling asleep and the first thing you thought of when you woke up. His absence consumed your every thought, impossible to ignore, unable to forget. There had been a few tough nights where you dragged yourself down the hall towards Satoru’s room. The man was usually still up, sitting on his bed with a book in hand that you could tell he wasn’t reading. Just an attempt at distraction. 

He welcomes you without a word, scooting over a bit so you could sit beside him, head on his shoulder as he tosses the book to the floor. You remain like that until you fall asleep, no words spoken but nothing needed to be verbalized to understand you were both mourning the loss of a man who wasn’t even dead. In an odd way, you felt as if you were mourning Satoru as well. His smile, his jokes, the way his eyes seemed to sparkle, all of those things had dwindled. To his credit, he was managing to pull himself back together, at least better than you had been. 

A harsh knock at your door signaled that Shoko was there. You hadn’t even realized that you fell asleep, but you felt even more groggy than you had a couple hours prior. “I’m up.” It’s hoarse and unconvincing but you hear Shoko utter a small “ok”. You know she’s still there, she always waits for you to get dressed and emerge from your room yourself. If you make her wait any longer than fifteen minutes she's usually barging in herself to pull you from your bed. Your body aches as you sit up, stumbling across the room to the bathroom because you need to pee yet again. 

The air almost feels stale as you get your routine done in the bathroom, the test is still sitting in the small can beside your sink. It’s presence is heavy, to the point you question if you should take it out with you despite only having a couple tissues accompanying it. You decided against it when she knocked again. “Just getting dressed.” You mumbled softly, listening for her small “Hmph.” At least letting you know she heard you. Your uniform still felt foreign on your skin, it had for the last three weeks but you tried to ignore it. “About time.” Shoko smiled as you emerged, Satoru beside her. “Oh? You’re both here?” Your tone was questioning but not mad. 

“Yeah, Yaga said we should take the day to be normal or something like that.” Satoru drawled, circular glasses sliding down his nose as he rolled his eyes. “Us? Normal?” You snorted, pulling your door shut as Shoko began walking down the hallway. “He just doesn’t know what to do with us at the moment.” Satoru offered in a low tone, Shoko would scold him for speaking like that, especially to you. The thing is, he wasn’t saying anything that you hadn’t already thought of yourself. “I don’t know what to do with us either.” You could assume Yaga was being vigilant, the guilt of not seeing what was happening with Suguru was weighing on him too. 

The flick of Shoko’s lighter was heard as you stepped into the morning air, laughter bubbling in your chest as you looked at her. “It was killing you, wasn’t it.” Yaga had been cracking down on her bad habit, trying to limit her by saying no smoking in the dorms. “Just a little.” She teased back, inhaling deeply before blowing the gray smoke past her lips. “Shoko, gimme one.” Your eyebrow cocked as Satoru stuck his hand out. Her eyes met you for a moment before begrudgingly handing the lighter and pack to him. “New habit?” You commented softly, watching as he stuck a cylinder between his lips and held his hand up to block the flame from the wind. 

Satoru shrugged, inhaling a bit before blowing out, moving to hand the pack to you. You hesitated, the test in your dorm trash can still lingering in the back of your mind. “I’m good.” You took them anyway, handing them to Shoko. Neither of them said anything but they shared a knowing glance, they couldn’t be mad at you for trying to quit a bad habit. “So where are we going?” You didn’t like the prolonged silence as the two of them puffed away. “I didn’t think you’d want to go anywhere, but if you want we can go get breakfast.” Shoko’s eyes flickered over both you and Satoru, as if she was looking at two temperamental children. 

“Breakfast sounds good.” Satoru offered, shoving one hand in his pocket while the other plucked the cig from his lips. “It does.” You added softly, stomach turning at the very thought of food but you couldn’t let them know that. You had lost your appetite shortly after he left, but you still forced yourself to eat at least one substantial meal a day. The nausea that had settled in your gut most days usually deterred you from anything else but plain rice and maybe some soup. Still, it was food and the only thing you could keep down at that. “Alright, I’ll call for a driver and we can go get something to eat.” Shoko pulled out her phone, clicking on a number she saved. 

“You’ve been eating, right?” You jumped a little, eyes sliding over to Satoru. His tone was low, just low enough for only you to hear. “Yeah, I’ve been eating… you?” He looked the same, tall and lean with broad shoulders. Satoru nodded, pushing his glasses up to sit on the bridge of his nose. “The car will be at the gates for us in five minutes so let's get going.” Shoko started walking, like always you and Satoru followed behind her like ducklings. Satoru’s question still lingered in your mind, his ability to read your thoughts nearly rivaled Suguru. 

You had to wonder just how much those six eyes of his could see. 

The three of you clamored into the car, Satoru taking the passenger seat while you and Shoko took the back. You had no idea where you were going, not even when Shoko gave an address to the driver. It was somewhere in the city, you knew that much, but you trusted her judgment and prayed they would have something plain for your stomach. None of you spoke as the car barreled forward, your eyes glued to the surroundings zipping past you, as if you’d catch him walking down the street on a busy morning. You knew you’d always be looking for him, everywhere you went, your eyes would search for him. 

You tore your eyes from the window, glancing at Satoru in the passenger seat. You couldn’t see his eyes, but his head was turned towards the window. If you had to guess, he was doing the very same thing. Looking for someone who would never appear. Unless you were Shoko of course, you still felt your throat tighten at the thought. You knew Suguru had chosen to reveal himself to her for a couple reasons. One being that she wasn’t nearly strong enough to take him down single handedly. The other being her easy going nature, he knew there would be little to no conflict or questions to answer with her. If roles were reversed, you’d do the same. 

“Hello?” You blinked, looking at Shoko with parted lips. “You okay?” her head tilted, brown eyes lingering over your features. “I… yeah.” You swallowed, the car was still moving so you didn’t space out for that long. “What are you in the mood to eat?” She repeated the question she had asked seconds prior while you were clearly on another plane of existence. “Something plain.” You offered lamely, hands clasping together in your lap. “Plain?” Satoru questioned, eyes shifting to look at you through the rearview mirror. “My stomach has been sensitive. Plain foods are all I can really get down right now.” You shrunk into the seat. 

Shoko hummed, eyes observing you intently now. You could almost hear her silently listing all of your physical symptoms, noting in her head the various things that could cause them. Most could be answered with heartbreak, but that didn’t typically make you sensitive to certain foods. Shoko and Satoru knew of Suguru's relationship with you. They knew you were serious about each other, that you often slept in the other’s dorm depending on the day. They knew you went on dates and bought each other gifts. They knew you had long since confessed your love to one another and were not strangers to holding hands when you thought nobody was looking. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the two of you slept together as well. 

~

“Quiet.” You sunk your teeth into the side of your cheek, struggling to stifle your noises as Suguru’s fingers curled inside of your tight heat. “You don’t want them to hear us, right?” he cooed again, lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he pressed you harder into the empty desk, nearly pushing it into the wall of the classroom with the ferocity of his hunger. 

You shook your head, not trusting your voice in that moment to make any coherent sounds. Your nails dug into his bicep, legs splayed hazardously over the sides of the desk as you used your free hand to brace yourself. Two fingers continued to plunge in and out of you, curling perfectly and sucking the air from your lungs as he found that one particular spot. 

Suguru watched in fascination, dark eyes glazed over as they flickered between his hand and your face. Each draw back revealed the slick shine of your arousal on his digits, each push forward was accompanied by a squelch. It made his throat tight, arousal making him feel hot all over as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. 

“Sugu…” You choked, face warming considerably as you realized how desperate you sounded. “Hmm?” a gentle hum, his fingers burying deep and massaging your walls until your thighs twitched. “I need you.” Your head fell back, hand leaving his bicep to slap over your mouth in an attempt to silence the cry that left you. “You…need me?” 

Those words were jarring to him, as if a chain of firecrackers had been ignited under his skin. You nodded, helpless and at his mercy as you prayed Satoru and Shoko wouldn’t wander off to figure out where the two of you had gone. You couldn’t quite comprehend what happened next, the sudden retreat of his fingers left you feeling empty, clearing your foggy mind for a second. 

They were quickly replaced with something else, something wet and soft. Your eyes widened considerably when you looked down to see Suguru on his knees, hands gripping the plush of your thighs with his face buried between. He would have given you more if it weren't for his damn pants, he was too impatient to struggle with the high waisted fashion choices he made. 

You couldn’t think again, mind immediately fogging over as you focused solely on Suguru’s head between your legs. The flat of his tongue licking up your folds before delving further, bumping your clit with his nose and earning a strangled noise from you. You bit down on your fist now, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to silence yourself for a bit. 

Suguru didn’t mind, if anything he wanted them to hear you. He wanted to see the shocked look on Satoru’s face when he realized what was happening. He couldn’t lie, this whole rendezvous had started because of an offhand comment Satoru made. One about how he was likely better at pleasing women than Suguru. You knew that's why you were in here too, you felt like you needed to thank Satoru for pushing Suguru to this point, whether that was his intention or not. 

Heat continued to build in your gut, if you could trust yourself to stay balanced you would have let go of the desk and buried your hand in his hair. You wanted to tug the silky black locks from the confines of the bun he always kept them in, watch them cascade around his handsome face and turn messy because of your fingers. Then again, that may make it a little too obvious to your two awaiting friends. “Sugu…” 

You gasped, hand flying from your mouth to grab the desk as you nearly lost your balance. Suguru had started to stand, knocking you back as his arms wrapped around your lower half in a bear hug. Suguru was standing at his full height now, your knees bent over his shoulders while only your mid-back and shoulders pressed into the desk. You could have melted into a puddle the moment his eyes met yours, his mouth still pressed firmly to your cunt. 

“Suguru…” You choked again, hands moving to grip the sides of the desk for some kind of grounding. You could feel him smirk, eyes burning into yours as his tongue lavished you. It was all too much, too lewd, too risky. Your orgasm was building faster than you anticipated, the tingling arousal shooting down your spine and making your legs tense as he teased you. You came with a choked cry of his name, eyes squeezing shut as you rode out your orgasm. 

~

“We’re here.” You blinked, eyes scanning your surroundings as Satoru got out of the car. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can get the food to go and head back to campus.” Shoko’s words were out of concern but her tone was still relaxed. “I’m alright, I could use some time in a busy space.” You lied, the quiet of your dorm room had never sounded so inviting. “Thank you.” You muttered softly to the driver, his small smile told you he was well aware of what was going on. Satoru was already by the front door of the cafe, putting out the butt of his cigarette on a nearby trash can before dropping it in. Shoko did the same, following after you as you entered. 

Satoru’s looks tended to come in handy, his glasses sliding down his nose to show the startling blue of his eyes was all that was needed to get the three of you a seat and bypass the wait. “At least you’re good for something.” You teased him, watching him roll his eyes before smiling. “It’s my duty to get the two of you quick service and good food, even if I have to whore myself out.” For some reason, that had laughter bubbling in your chest, the genuine kind. “Such a noble sacrifice.” You laughed, the menu in your hand shaking as your shoulders bounced. You were too distracted to see the way Satoru’s shoulders seemed to sag in relief as he watched you, for a moment it was like nothing had changed.

If it weren't for the gaping, empty space in the booth beside him, he would have been convinced. 

“What are you going to get, Shoko?” She was the only one actively looking over the menu. “I’m not sure yet, but they do have some options that would be easy on your stomach.” You weren’t sure why but it made your heart ache just a bit, she had been more concerned over your meal than her own. At the very same time, it made you feel small, like you were a bit of a nuisance for having stomach issues… or whatever they were… in the first place. “Oh, alright.” You focused on the menu, aware of their eyes on you as you tried to find something small but appealing. You settled on tamagoyaki and asked for it to be made on the salty side rather than sweet. 

Shoko went for a traditional meal as well while Satoru ventured into their “western” cuisine. His choice sounded so sweet that the thought of it made your teeth hurt. “I don’t know how you do it, Satoru.” you sipped your tea slowly, letting the hot liquid slide down your throat and settle in your stomach. He only shrugged, smiling softly “I’ve yet to find something too sweet for me to handle.” Normally he would have added something flirty but he decided against it. Despite knowing you and Suguru were a couple, it never stopped Satoru’s flirtatious comments. It only bothered Suguru a little bit but he knew his best friend would never cross that kind of line. 

“You may go into cardiac arrest before you meet your match, Satoru.” Shoko snorted, sipping her coffee as she took in the surroundings of the busy cafe. For a moment, you wondered if she was doing what you and Satoru had been subconsciously doing for the last three weeks. “I keep waiting for him to appear.” Your tone was just barely above a whisper, as if even bringing up his existence would cause the world to implode around you. “Me too.” Shoko spoke softly, eyes still looking anywhere but the two of you. Satoru kept quiet, face unusually somber as he sipped his coffee. “I think I’ll eventually go insane.” 

You tried to sound lighthearted but the crack in your voice gave the opposite effect. 

Satoru’s eyes flickered up at that, making your shoulders shrink into the booth. You had quickly come to learn that both of your friends were treating you like fragile porcelain. Though you partially felt the same when talking to them, especially Satoru. Despite the frequent and long nights with each other, little to no words were ever spoken. “I’m fine.” You tried, voice a little stronger than before. “We can talk about these things without falling apart.” It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than them. Before anyone could speak, the waiter was walking over with your food, effectively stopping any further discussion. 

“Satoru…” You choked as the waiter walked away, eyes focused on the sugary, gooey concoction on the plate before him. “That’s your ticket to the ER.” Shoko was gawking at it too, a bite of food already halfway to her mouth. Satoru, on the other hand, looked like a kid on christmas morning, glasses sliding down his nose with a smile on his face. Your stomach grumbled as he cut into the pancakes, the feeling making you jump just a bit. You actually felt hungry, mouth watering as you looked down at your own plate and moved to take a bite. 

Silence fell over the table as you all ate, within minutes half of your food was gone and you were quietly wishing you had ordered something a little bigger.

“You need a napkin.” You laughed softly, handing Satoru your spare napkin so he could wipe the syrup off of his cheek. “Thanks.” For some reason you couldn't help but think he looked like a little kid. For another reason you couldn’t quite explain, it made sadness sink into your shoulders. He should be here with the three of you, eating and laughing and bringing you the comfort you always looked for in him. Your hands shook as you moved to eat more, not willing to let the surge of emotion get rid of the appetite you rarely had nowadays. 

As you finished your plate, you felt the bubbling wave of nausea build in your stomach. You inhaled slowly, trying to find a way to ease your worries and keep your food down. “Are you okay? You look a little green.” Shoko eyed you with concern, not even a second later Satoru was signaling the waiter for the check. “Y-yeah… told you my stomach was sensitive. That’s the most I've eaten at once in the last three weeks.” You couldn’t stand the embarrassment of making a scene or wasting money on the food you had just consumed. “I’ll be back.” You slipped out of the booth, your friend’s concerned eyes zeroing in on you as you disappeared for the bathroom. 

Luckily for you the bathroom was empty, the fluorescent lights making you flinch as you stumbled to the sink and turned the water on cold. You leaned over it, hands and wrists submerged under the running stream, chest heaving with the effort to remain calm. You were desperate to keep the food down, so desperate you could feel sweat forming on your temple as you tried to focus on anything but the nausea. Suguru’s face flashed through your mind and for a moment you were convinced your knees would give out from under you. 

~

“I told you to take it easy.” He huffs softly, fingers running through your hair as he rakes it away from your face. Carefully, he’s looping one of his elastics around your hair to keep it in place. Your head is still buried in the toilet, you had just finished throwing up for the third time in the last hour. “Are you still with me?” His hand is on your back now, rubbing slow but deliberate circles. Feebly you give him a thumbs up, throat burning from the sting of alcohol coming back up. 

“You didn’t eat much today and then you went and got shit-faced with Shoko.” Suguru stated the obvious, trying not to scold you because he knew you weren’t doing good right now. “I don’t think you have anything else to puke up, do you want some water?” You lifted your head now, reaching for toilet paper to wipe your mouth. “Water sounds good.” Your voice was weaker than Suguru had expected it to sound, his heart aching a bit as he sat beside you on the bathroom floor. 

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just yell if you get scared and I’ll be by your side before you know it.” You nodded, thanking him softly as he got up and disappeared out of your bathroom. You were only seventeen at the time, acting far older than you were and thinking you could get away with it. Now, you are facing the consequences of being naive. Typical for someone your age. Suguru had returned in under two minutes, handing you a glass of room temperature water. “It’ll be easier on your stomach at this temperature.” He chuckled as you grimaced. 

He moved to grab a washcloth from your cabinet, turning the sink water on cold. “And this…” he wrung it out twice before turning off the water “will help focus your attention on something other than the nausea.” He placed the cloth on the back of your neck, watching your shoulders sag in relief as something finally cooled your clammy skin. “Thanks, Sugu.” 

~

“Sugu… I’m scared.” Your voice was barely audible, tears burning your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Somehow it was working, your pain outshining the nausea as you tried to stop yourself from sobbing in the middle of the restroom. A year had passed since that moment in time, you were only eighteen now and yet you felt as if you had grown a decade. Yet, you were reduced to a scared and crying child because of nausea. Get it together. You forced yourself to straighten, hands slightly numb under the current of cold water. 

You forced yourself to make eye contact with your reflection, observing how stark the dark circles were under your eyes. Shoko had been right, you did look a bit green, but it was fading steadily as everything subsided. You let your hands sit under the water for a minute longer before bending over the sink and splashing some on your face. The door to the restroom opened as you straightened again, Shoko was looking at you with worry. “Did you get sick?” you shook your head, turning the water off and reaching for the paper towels. 

“Managed to fight it off… for now.” 

“Satoru paid already, there is a convenient store a couple shops down. We can get you some nausea meds and a barf bag for the ride back… just in case.” You nodded, smiling a bit. “That would probably be a good idea.” you followed her out of the bathroom and through the restaurant, Satoru was standing on the sidewalk with a new cigarette between his lips. “Damn, you really did develop a new habit.” He only shrugged, inhaling deeply before blowing more out. “I’ll get over it at some point.” Knowing him and his will-power, he probably would. 

“I’ll call for the driver, Satoru take her to the convenient store and I’ll catch up.” Satoru nodded, saluting her with a quick “yes ma’am” before grabbing your hand and dragging you along. You didn’t speak until Shoko was out of earshot. “Do you think it’s going to get better?” You appreciated the weight of his hand in yours, though you were certain he could feel how clammy it was. “I think it’ll get more bearable with time.” not better, but tolerable. The thought had your chest feeling heavy as you stepped inside of the small store. 

“Nausea meds and barf bags.” Satoru chuckled, reading the signs above each aisle until he spotted one that seemed like a good start. “You’ll have to see a doctor if this doesn’t ease up… how long has it been going on anyways?” You shuffled behind him, arms crossing due to him letting them go a moment prior. “Shortly after he left, after I found the letter.” Only Satoru knew about the letter that had been left behind. How Suguru managed to get back onto campus and leave it in your dorm was beyond him. You had even let him read it, breaking his heart again. 

“Shoko!” Satoru called, noticing her walk down the aisle before you could even turn your head. “I’m not good with this stuff, what should we get?” Satoru had already grabbed a box of blue cylindrical barf bags for you but the actual meds were basically foreign to him. “I’ll handle it from here, Satoru. You can wait in the car, he should be upfront by now.” Satoru’s brows furrowed, so did yours, but the look in Shoko’s eyes had him shrugging and handing the box to you. “Alright then, I’ll see ya out there.” 

He whistled as he strolled by, your eyes narrowing on Shoko. “What’s this about?” you watched her shuffle through the shelves, picking up one and reading the box before setting it down and moving onto the next. “I don’t know what you mean.” She commented offhandedly, plucking another box and reading it before sighing. “This one should work.” She turned, handing it to you while motioning you to follow her down the aisle. You read it over, nothing out of the ordinary so you truly couldn’t figure out what made this one different from the others. 

You stopped short when Shoko did, eyes scanning the aisle and feeling your stomach drop. “Shoko–” You sighed, she was standing in front of the pregnancy tests. “Listen, I know it’s probably the last thing you want to even think about but I think you should take one.” She was grabbing a box of the cheap tests, the same test that was still residing in the trash can of your bathroom. “Shoko, it's not necessary.” You couldn't bring yourself to tell her you already took one, for some reason you couldn’t tell her it was negative either. 

“I’ll buy them, and you’ll keep them. If this nausea doesn’t subside in like two weeks, I’m forcing you to take them.” You felt your face burning, clutching the nausea meds tightly in your hands as you looked away from her. “Fine.” You sighed, head tilted at her shoes as you followed her up front to the register. Everything was placed neatly in a brown bag so nobody could see the contents. Once in the car, you popped open the barf bags just to keep one ready in the event your nausea returned full force. “I figured you would forget this.” 

You looked up to see Satoru handing you a bottle of water, your lips parting in surprise. “You know me well, Satoru. I did forget.” you took it from him, grabbing the box of nausea meds and ripping them open. You took them and sighed, gulping down water when you realized how thirsty you had been. “If we have nothing else to do today, I think I’ll take a nap.” You were aching for your bed, more tired now than you had been after any missions. “Alright but we’ll wake you up for dinner if we don’t hear from you.” Shoko smiled, cracking the window to light a cig. 

“It’s not even 11am yet.” you snorted. “Yeah but you can sleep like the dead when you really need it, if we don’t wake you, you’ll sleep straight through till tomorrow.” You opened your mouth to deny it, about to use your frequent bathroom breaks as an excuse but stopped yourself. Saying that would only confirm the very thing Shoko was suspicious of. “Alright, fine, whatever.” You resigned with a playful huff, arms crossing as you turned to look out the window. Luckily for you, you managed to make it through the ride without needing to use the bag. 

“I’ll see you later.” You called after them, waving as you headed for the dorms. They both waved back, finding shade under a tree to enjoy more of the sunny morning. You felt your shoulders sagging with each step, your social battery diminished far faster now that Suguru wasn’t always by your side. You had almost grown a bit too dependent on him, thinking he would be a constant in your life. You inhaled shakily, the brown bag crumbling between your fingers as your emotions bubbled to the surface yet again. You couldn't seem to get yourself to your dorm fast enough, hot tears slipping down your cheeks as you shoved the key in the lock. 

It came in heavy waves, making you feel weak as you could only succumb to the sadness festering in your chest. You dropped the bag by the door, kicking off your shoes and shouldering off your uniform jacket. Moving on autopilot, you drew your curtains shut and took off the rest of your clothing, sliding his shirt over your head until you were enveloped in his scent. You were gasping for air by the time your body hit the mattress, curling in on yourself as you sobbed. “I miss you.” You hiccuped, rubbing your eyes as if it would stop the tears. 

God dammit, Suguru, why did you have to do this?

You buried your head in your pillow, trying to drown out your own feelings before sadness turned to anger and you ripped your whole room apart because of it. 

~

“Stop wiggling so much.” His voice sounded like gravel, rumbling the back of your head as he spoke. “Can’t help it.” You retorted, trying your best to settle into a comfortable position. Suguru had you wrapped in a bear hug, his favorite form of affection, especially since he knew you couldn’t get out of his grasp. His arms were covered in thick muscles, something you initially didn't expect because his uniform and choice of baggy clothing typically hid them.

 You could use all your strength and his grip wouldn’t falter.  

“Why not?” he mumbled again, if you had to guess, his eyes were closed as he spoke. “Cause it’s warm, Sugu.” you were both laying on top of the covers, little to no clothing on because of the heat and the broken air conditioning that the school was still trying to fix. Nothing but an old fan swiveling side to side to create some sort of relief. Still, Suguru couldn’t sleep unless you were pressed flush to him, warm or not. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Oh it absolutely is.” you immediately countered, turning your head back to try and look at him. “It could be way worse.” he tried again, fingers thrumming against your side. “Yeah, it could, but it could also be better. Like if you let me go for example.” You wiggled a bit, trying to create space before he pulled you tightly to him again. “Nice try, it’s not happening.” You groaned, going limp in his arms as he began to laugh. “I could totally make it worse for you.” He added softly, lips ghosting your ear. Despite the heat, you shivered. 

“The weirdest things turn you on, Sugu.” 

“Hey, it’s not nice to call yourself weird.” 

You slapped his arm, earning another rumble of laughter as he moved to hover over you. “C’mon, if I make you sweat, it’ll make the breeze from the fan feel colder.” You rolled your eyes, studying his features as he looked down at you, hair framing his face and ghosting yours. “That’s counterproductive, you know.” Your hands were running up his biceps anyway, moving to wrap around his neck and pull him close to you. “Maybe it is, but you can’t say I’m wrong.” 

His head was lowering, giving into your pull with no hesitation. “You’re right, I can’t say you’re wrong. But… I want to.” You smile, pulling him further until your lips melt together. He was radiating warmth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip to ask for entrance. Your lips parted, hands snaking up into his hair and tugging at the strands until he groaned. Suguru braced himself on one hand, making the mattress dip just by your head. The rest of his weight was settled on his knees, caging your hips in so you truly couldn’t get away from him. Not that you wanted too now. 

You felt small beneath him, his bare skin radiating warmth as he used his free hand to push your shirt up. You could ignore the heat for the time being, more focused on the steady beating from between your thighs. “Sugu…” You parted with a gasp, watching him lean up and pull you with him, allowing him to drag your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor before pushing you down again. His lips didn’t return to yours, instead they moved to your neck, kissing along your pulse point until you were whining. “Quiet, baby, don’t forget we’re in my room.” 

Satoru was asleep next door, that realization set in like ice water being dumped over your head. “Suguru.” You choked as his head dipped lower, licking along your collarbone before moving to one of your breasts. He wasn’t going to answer you, and you knew that for a fact by the way his lips curled into a smirk against your skin. “You’re evil.” You gasped, hand fisting his hair tightly as he scraped his teeth along your breast, nipping at the soft skin. Your other hand found its home on his shoulder, nails scratching lightly as his muscles flexed under your grasp. 

You sunk your teeth into your cheek when his lips wrapped around your perked nipple, arousal making it pebble slightly as he sucked. Suguru’s tongue lavished your skin, flicking the bud until your back was arching into his touch. It wasn’t nearly enough, your breath coming out in short pants as you tried to pry him off and focus on your other breast. “These would look so pretty if they were full of milk.” You choked, eyes wide as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Don’t you think?” You couldn’t breathe for a moment, stunned into silence by his comment. 

“C’mon baby, don’t act so shocked.” He cooed softly, the tip of his tongue trailing up your sternum. He didn’t stop until he reached your lips, kissing them softly before dipping his head again. His hand toyed with the breast he had just teased endlessly, brown eyes observing the rate of your breathing before lowering onto your other breast. He repeated the same motions, nipping and sucking the senstive skin until you were squirming from the wetness between your legs.

“You haven't answered me, sweetheart.”

“B-because I don’t know how to answer that, Sugu.” You knew exactly what he was implying, but you couldn’t form a coherent response for him. “You just have to tell me if you agree, it’s pretty simple.” He chuckled, pushing himself up to look down at you. Your hands fell to your sides, his neck just out of your reach. “Just think about it, pretty girl.” You watched him, completely entranced as he pulled his briefs down and his erection sprang free. “Because I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” 

“You have?” You sat up a bit, fingers shakily pulling off your own underwear to save time. “I have.” He confirmed, cheeks turning a shade of red that you could see even in the moonlight. His hand slid along his length, spreading the precum drooling from his tip while his boxers rested at his mid-thigh. “Take those off, Sugu.” You smiled a bit, reaching for the waistband and pulling them taut before letting them snap back against his thigh. “So demanding.” He snorted, letting himself go to push the material off, tossing it to the floor just as you had done with your underwear. 

“So are you, demanding an answer for something so…so…” you couldn’t find the right words, not when his eyes were on you, devouring you whole. “…so what? How does it make you feel?” He redirected, pumping himself leisurely as your thighs fell open for him, still supporting yourself on your elbows as you waited. “How does what make me feel?” A stupid question but you were still reeling from the initial statement. Suguru laughed, hand still gliding over his length as he sat on his knees.

“How does it feel knowing I think about getting you pregnant… all the fucking time.” You couldn’t deny the thought made you feel hot, hotter than you felt from the heat and arousal mixing. Like molten lava was running its way through your bloodstream. “F-feels fucking…” you squirmed a bit, legs moving to close involuntarily until his hand shot out and stopped them. “Go on, pretty girl. Tell me.” You sat up, glaring at him with warm cheeks. “How about you fuck me. Then, maybe, I’ll tell you how I feel about your little fantasies.” Suguru groaned, head falling forward for a moment. 

“Sounds like a good deal to me.” He moved forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he pulled your thighs towards him. Your lips found his neck, sucking on it harshly as he ran the dull head of his cock between your slick folds. You let him move you however he pleased, your legs being pushed almost painfully to your chest as he pressed into you. You gasped in unison, his cock stretching you open easily despite no prep. “Shit…” his head fell forward again, nearly bumping yours as he bottomed out, no space left between the two of you. 

Suguru stayed in place, eyes shut as he focused on the way your walls fluttered and squeezed around him, unable to stay still. Your nails dug into his scalp, pulling a groan from his lips as you tried to relax but couldn’t. He was big, bigger than any fling or partner you had in the past. No matter how easily your cunt accepted him, it still stung for the first few seconds. You had grown to love the deep ache, the weight of him inside you, the way his tip would brush your cervix depending on the position. Like now, with your legs pressed so tightly to your body. 

“Can I move?” his voice was soft, eyes peering into your own once he gained his composure. “Y-yeah.” You breathed out, the feeling of his hands on your skin still sent shockwaves of arousal through you. Especially when his grip tightened, bracing himself on you as he drew his hips back half way before rolling into you again. You moaned, eyes squeezing shut as Suguru found his rhythm, hips meeting yours with a soft slap. “D-Don’t forget Satoru is…” You wailed softly, pleasure building quickly as he moved. “I know…” 

But the smirk on his face told you he no longer cared, he’d gladly listen to his white-haired best friend bitch and moan in the morning about being woken up by you. Suguru’s rhythm only sped up, hips angling perfectly to brush along that one particular spot as he thrust into you, cock head brushing your cervix every few thrusts until your vision was blurring. The pleasure ebbing through your body was more than enough to block out how uncomfortable your current position was. 

A wet squelch started to emit between your legs, loud enough to be heard over the drone of the fan as Suguru pounded into you. “So…” he started, voice strained as sweat dripped down his temple. “... can you tell me how it makes you feel now?” You blinked, awestruck that he was still hooked on getting an answer from you. “S-suguru…” you whined, head falling further into the pillows. “I’m not letting it go…ha… Tell me how it makes you feel.” he ground out, hips slowing just a bit. When you didn’t speak, he pressed more of his weight into you so one hand could break free. 

You moaned, loud and unrestrained as his fingers ghosted across your swollen clit, the sudden contact making you see stars. “Tell me how it makes you feel.” he repeated, watching your face go slack as his fingers and hips worked in tandem. “Makes me hot…” You admitted with a heavy breath, eyes struggling to focus on him. “I want you to do it, Sugu… fuck me till I’m pregnant.” The look on his face had you shrinking further into the mattress, an almost animalistic look taking over his eyes as he stopped moving all together. “Say it again.” 

“I want you to fuck me ‘til I’m pregnant, Suguru.”  

~

You woke up in a sweat, gasping for air as you stumbled out of bed and barreled to the bathroom. You couldn’t stop the nausea this time, knees hitting the tile floor with bruising force as you heaved into the toilet. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep, but your dream was enough to send you into a death spiral. Tears burned your eyes as the little bit of breakfast you hadn’t digested came back up. Luckily for you, you had slept long enough that your food from this morning wasn’t a total loss. Nothing more than bile was left as you finally calmed down. 

You reached for toilet paper, wiping your tears and blowing your nose until you could at least breath without difficulty. Aching, you got up, flushing the toilet and washing your hands and face. You had no idea what time it was but you assumed it wasn’t late enough for dinner if Shoko never came to wake you up. At least that’s what you thought as you stumbled back into your dorm room slightly sweaty. That’s odd… The sun had begun to set just beyond your window, your eyes flickering to your alarm clock. 7:23pm stared back at you in big red numbers. 

I slept for over eight hours? You looked for your phone, seeing the missed text from Shoko. 

Shoko: I decided against waking you up, I figured you could use the sleep. Just text me when you’re awake and I can bring you dinner

You were partially grateful for her decision, your face still warm as your dream lingered in your mind. Dreaming of the past, how cliche. You sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. You had woken up so suddenly, adrenaline blocking out the sleepiness at first. Now, your body seemed to thrum with a dull ache, the headrush coming back around to kick you while you were down. You reached over to turn on the small lap residing on your nightstand, eyes squinting for a moment as you adjusted. Your eyes focused on the brown bag from earlier, the one you discarded on your floor after coming back. 

You knew there was water in there still, so you got up and grabbed it, looking at the bag contents in disdain. You emptied it on your desk, nausea meds, barf bags and the box of pregnancy tests. You studied then as you gulped down some of the water, easing the burn in your throat. The pregnancy tests Shoko had insisted on were identical to the one you took this morning. Weirdly enough you wished she had grabbed the more expensive digital ones. That way you wouldn't have to strain yourself trying to figure out if a second line was present or not. 

“Fuck it.” you sighed, dropping the now empty water bottle in the small barrel you kept beside your desk. You still had one more test in the box from this morning, you’d take another one just because of the memories lingering on your mind. Your face felt warm as you recalled that particular night from a few months back. Suguru had been pretty adamant after that, fucking you raw and in ernest with every intention of knocking you up. You, stupidly, let him because you love him and loved the idea of having a family with him. “Idiot.” 

You scolded yourself again, ripping the foil wrapper and tossing it in your trash with the now empty box. You went through the same process as you did that morning, peeing into a cup and dipping the absorbent end into it for ten seconds before capping it and discarding the rest of the contents. You forced yourself to leave the bathroom this time, convinced it would make time go by faster. The text Shoko had sent was still left unanswered, you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel hungry at that moment in time. 

You’d text her in a little while though, or else she’d likely come breaking your door down thinking you had run away. Just then, your phone vibrated with the ringtone you had set for Satoru. You grabbed it, flipping it open to see what he had to say. On the screen there was a message from him, asking if you wanted to hang out on the rooftop to watch the stars later on. You smiled a bit, it was rare for Satoru to ask things so formally. You clicked out a message, telling him yes and that you could use some fresh air. 

It took him no time at all to send a happy emoticon, one that had you rolling your eyes as you typed back that you’d meet him at his dorm when you were ready. You backed out of the chat, eyes lingering on a particular contact, your message to him was naturally left unanswered. You had given up texting Suguru’s number when the messages no longer got delivered. You figured he’d discard his phone, throw away any direct contact he had with the three of you. You snapped your phone shut a moment later, you’d text Shoko after you got dressed.

Opening your closet was still proving to be a bit difficult, especially as your fingers trailed over the material of the clothing Suguru had kept in your room. They smelt like the laundry detergent he used as well as his cologne, it took your breath away for a moment. You forced yourself away, grabbing some comfortable clothes that were actually yours before shutting the door. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to discard his clothing, despite knowing he wasn’t coming back to you. 

You pulled his shirt over your head, grabbing your own and replacing it. You pulled on a pair of shorts after, rubbing your face with your hands as you looked at your appearance in the mirror. No amount of sleep seemed to help the dark circles under your eyes or the sickly look to your complexion. You could only hope Satoru was right, with time it would become more manageable. You glanced at your alarm clock, 7:48pm stared back at you now. The sky outside your window had turned indigo, the sun minutes away from being completely out of sight. The summer was coming to an end, filling your chest with melancholy.

You couldn’t stand being alone in that moment, grabbing your phone and shoving it in your pocket as you made a beeline for your door. You made your way down the hall, remembering as you passed Shoko’s dorm that you needed to text her. Stopping in your tracks, you figured it would just be easier to see her in person. “Shoko?” you called, fingers tapping the door softly because she hated when people knocked too loud. “Coming.” You heard her rustling around her room before the door opened, a half smoked cigarette hanging from her lips. 

“Thought Yaga told you no smoking inside.”  

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, and my window is open.” 

You smiled, “I’m hanging out with Satoru on the roof if you wanna join us.” Shoko exhaled, puffing just a bit of smoke in your direction. “I’d love to but I spent the whole afternoon with him ‘cause you were sleeping.” You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck “my bad.” but Shoko was waving you off. “Don’t apologize, you need sleep… I’ll trust Satoru to feed you if you’re hungry.” She smiled as you rolled your eyes “Alright alright, enjoy the rest of your bad habit and I’ll take Satoru duty.” The look in Shoko’s eyes made your smile falter for just a moment. 

They looked oddly wistful, but it vanished just as quickly as your smile faltered. “Aye aye captain.” Shoko started to shut the door as you turned to leave, watching you go for just a moment before shutting it completely. “Satoru.” You drawled, banging on his door so you could be heard over the music he was playing. “Oi, keep it down!” the door swung open a moment later, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked at you. “Ready to go?” He looked cozy in an oversized black hoodie and sweats, sunglasses resting on top of his head. 

“Sure am.” you returned his smile, the ache in your chest easing just a bit. It was more bearable when you had someone who understood the pain you felt deeper than surface level. You watched him turn, shutting off his music and the lights before stepping into the hallway. “Are we going to take the normal way or are you going to test out your blue?” Satoru’s eyes seemed to sparkle as you suggested he use his curse technique. “If you insist on blue…” You couldn’t even make a sound as his arm wrapped around your waist, hauling you off of your feet. 

In the blink of an eye, you were exposed to the cooling night air. “Damn.” You laughed as he set you down, shuffling over to the small lock box you kept up here with spare blankets and, as Shoko claimed, “necessities”...Which were just two cartons of emergency cigarettes. “Didn’t disorient you, right?” Satoru was standing on the edge, observing the glow of the city in the distance. “Not even a little, you’ve improved a lot, Satoru.” your back was turned to him, so you missed the way his eyes widened slightly, cheeks turning pink. 

“Thanks” 

You turned back to him, blankets in hand. “So…” You walked over to where he was standing, taking a seat just before the edge and letting your legs dangle off. “...So?” Satoru looked down at you, watching you settle. “Why did you want to come up here… I’d love to gaze at the stars but it’s not like we’ll actually see any with all the light pollution.” Satoru sighed, dropping down to squat beside you. “I guess I just wanted your company… ya know since you’re probably the only other person that understands this.” his tone was awkward, it wasn’t often that you were sentimental… or serious for that matter… with each other. 

“Your welcome to have my company any time, Satoru. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you.” It was so heartfelt it made you feel strange. “Sorry.” You added, a bit meeker than before when he stiffened a bit. “Don’t be sorry, just not used to being so… serious with you.”  He sat fully now, shoulder brushing yours as a silent invitation for you to rest your head. You did, just as you always had, watching the lights of the city a few miles away. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” You spoke in a gentle tone, hoping he knew what you meant. 

“It is. Knowing he’s there, that he’s okay… while we’re sitting here sulking like idiots.” There was a small bite to his tone as he finished, one that quickly left when he exhaled. “It pisses me off.” It made you upset too, anger bubbling in the back of your mind like a pot of boiling water that was going to overflow at any second. “It pisses me off too, because I truly can’t understand it. I’ve killed myself over the last three weeks trying to understand, to make sense of it. I can’t and I don’t think I ever will. But it’s not my place to reason with it, you know?” 

Satoru was silent, waiting for you to continue. “It’s not my life, it’s his. I tried for months to get it out of him, I tried so goddamn hard to get him to open up and he never did. Always redirecting, always avoiding.” You sounded defeated by the end, blinking away the tears that blurred your vision so you could regain composure. “Why didn’t you come to me?” Satoru questioned softly, letting your words sink in like an anchor. 

“He gave you so many signs, Satoru. If you couldn’t see them, it wasn’t my place to assist.” 

Satoru felt like that should have made him angry, but it didn’t. Mostly because you were right, it had been obvious from the start but he had naively pushed them to the side, pretending it wasn’t true. He was just as much at fault, if anything he was willing to shoulder all of the blame. Because at least you tried. He couldn’t say the same, and he knew that far too well. “Suguru made up his mind the moment he entered that village. There is no stopping a man who is set in their resolve. You said it yourself, Satoru. He looked healthier, happier, content.” 

Satoru took in a shaky breath, leaning into you just as you leaned into him. “I just don’t get why he needed to kill his parents.” Your eyes closed, that was the thought weighing heaviest on your mind. “He needed to prove to himself that he was doing the right thing. That nobody, not even his parents, were an exception to his newfound ideology.” It killed you to say it, especially since you had met his parents last winter break. They were kind, at least his mother was. His father was a bit colder but there was still an undeniable love for his son. They had welcomed you so openly, they were proud of the son they had raised. 

Now they were gone, nobody but Suguru was to blame. 

“In a fucked up way, I don’t care that he killed those people.” The words felt bitter on your tongue, but his letter flashed through your mind and for a moment you understood him. Those two little girls, beaten and caged, scared and facing death for things they never did. Hell, had you gone on the mission with him, you may have encouraged his choices. That realization felt weird as it settled in your gut. “I… I don’t really care either.” Satoru admitted softly, thinking back over the last year, thinking about Amanai. He had been seconds away from doing the same thing. 

But Suguru had been his voice of reason, stopping him with a simple command. It should have been obvious then, that Suguru’s life was completely altered from that moment forward. “It was so obvious.” He hissed softly, head falling forward just a bit as anger squeezed his heart. “There is nothing we can do now, Satoru. Nothing we can do will reverse the damage that has been done.” You wished you could believe your own words, part of you wanted to catch a train into the city and barrel into that religious group he took over. 

You weren’t even sure what you’d do if you did. Hit him, yell at him? Crumple into his arms like the sucker you were. Maybe a mix of all three, no, it would definitely be a mix of all three. You couldn’t help but wonder how he would react if he saw you again. He made it clear in his letter that he loved you, he still loved you, he would always love you. If you made the choice to leave, would he welcome you in with open arms. Or was he resenting you already for not doing so sooner. Was he waiting for you? Or was it nothing more than sweet-talk. 

“You’re not breathing.” Satoru muttered softly, tilting his head just a bit to look down at you. “Oh…” You inhaled deeply, laughing a bit  as you exhaled “got lost in thought.” You felt Satoru relax again, head resting against yours. “I get it.” You fell into a comfortable silence, watching as the sky steadily turned from a deep blue to pitch black. There, if you squint hard enough, you could make out a couple of sparkling stars. 

You knew if you asked, Satoru could probably whisk you somewhere far away. Somewhere clear so you could actually see the stars with no obstructions. 

Yet you were too comfortable, too warm. 

Sitting where you were now was more than enough for the time being. That feeling of content actually took the air from your lungs for a moment, blinking steadily as you took in your surroundings. There was a fleeting moment where your heart felt light, that aching heaviness that had been plaguing it for the last three weeks wasn’t present. You wondered quietly if Satoru felt it too. Given the way his body seemed completely relaxed into yours, you assumed he did. 

~

You were stumbling down the hall like a drunkard. Your mind felt numb as you moved, head tilted down and expression blank. If anyone were to cross your path at that given moment, they probably would have been unsettled by the sight of you. A zombie moving on autopilot, your brain moving so quickly that it had reduced everything to a quiet, droning buzz. 

Murder. 112 people. His parents too. He’s gone. He snapped. He’s a murderer. Suguru is gone. 

Nothing made sense, not a single bit of the information you had received made any sense. The fact that Suguru wasn’t answering your frequent texts wasn't making sense. The fact that you had woken up to an empty bed wasn’t making sense. The fact that people were telling you Suguru, your Suguru, had taken over a hundred lives in the span of one night wasn’t making any fucking sense. 

Your knees nearly gave out the moment your hand met the wood of your door, pushing it open so quickly it slammed into the wall with a loud thud before coming back at you. Not that you cared, at that moment you could be set on fire and you wouldn’t blink an eye. 

You stood in the middle of your dorm room, eyes scanning the room as if it were something foreign. Nothing was making sense, not even your bed looked like your own. It was the pressure cracking down on you already, sinking its claws into your shoulders and forcing you to your knees as the weight of your new reality hit you like a freight train. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry in that moment, too shell shocked over the report Yaga had read to you and Satoru. 

Satoru. 

You had stumbled away shortly after the report was finished, barely registering the way he had started to yell. You hadn’t looked back, but it wasn’t like either of them tried to stop you. Despite having just stumbled away from him, you found yourself moving to leave and find him again. At least you would have if your knees didn’t give out on you. You gasped, more out of surprise than pain as your legs made contact with the wooden floor. You sat there for a moment, arms feeling equally as weak as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

You felt your chest tighten, every breath felt strangled as you tried to inhale. A cold sweat seemed to cover your skin, fingers shaking slightly as you pushed your hair from your face. You couldn’t move, completely paralyzed by shock. It felt like your heart was shattering, every shaky inhale deepening the wound. Still, your tears would not come. Not even as black spots began to obstruct your vision, chest heaving as you began to hyperventilate. 

Despite your body vibrating in distress, you felt a nearly silent calm. Like someone had flicked off the switch and stole your ability to hear.

Nothing and everything all at once. 

~

“Hey? Y/N wake up…” You jumped a bit, hand coming up to touch the wetness on your cheeks. “You were crying in your sleep.” Satoru muttered softly, hand smoothing over your hair as he cradled you. “I-I was?” You didn’t even realize the change in position or the change in scenery. You were no longer sitting by the roof’s edge, instead you were sitting in Satoru’s lap, his arms holding you tightly as he looked at you with worry. 

“You were.” he confirmed, letting you go just as you woke up fully. “Sorry for worrying you, I was just thinking about him… it’s so strange. I’ve been having such intense dreams of the past… I've had dreamless sleep for the last three weeks… so why now?” Satoru sighed, watching you get up to stand and stretch your limbs. “I don’t know. I’ve been having odd dreams about him but I don’t really remember how most of them go by the time I wake up.”

“It’s the universe’s way of torturing us… as if we haven’t been tortured enough. Wait, how long have I been asleep?” The temperature had dropped significantly, the moon was shining high in the sky now. “About an hour or so, I was actually going to bring you back inside but you started to cry and… well here we are now.” Satoru got up, stretching dramatically as you sighed. “You’d think after sleeping for eight hours I wouldn't be tired.” 

You walked to the edge of the roof again, feet pressing firmly to the ledge as you looked down. “Being depressed will suck the soul out of you.” For some reason you couldn’t help but laugh. “You seem pretty wide awake, Satoru.” He joined you on the ledge, pushing you a bit to the side. Your training gave you quick reflexes so you didn’t flinch when he did it. “Oh please, you know I’m right.” You glanced at him, laughing softly. 

“You are, but so am I. We can be depressed morons together.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, earning another laugh as you punched his shoulder. “Touche, Gojo” 

“Yuck, never call me that again.” His face had morphed into a scowl as you used his last name. He never liked hearing you call him anything other than Satoru. “Fine.” you crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling the cool air. “I think I’m gonna go shower and maybe make something small for dinner… Just so Shoko doesn’t string the two of us up on a lamppost.” Satoru nodded, watching you step off the ledge and move about the roof to put the blankets away. 

“I’ll accompany you.” he jumped down, trailing behind you as you moved to open the door that would bring you downstairs. “In the shower? I’m flattered but–” the way his eyes rolled were enough to stop you mid-sentence. “Joking, Satoru.” he sighed out an “I know” closing the distance to haul you up. “Using the stairs is boring.” Within the blink of an eye, you were back inside and standing in front of your dorm room. 

“Text me when you’re done showering and we can go get food.” 

You nodded, one of the perks of attending school in Tokyo was the fact that the city never slept. You could go find a place to eat at three in the morning and they’d still serve you hot food. Your body sagged against the door of your dorm after shutting it. Flicking on the lights lit the room in a warm, golden glow. For the last three years you considered your room a sanctuary, it was your happy place after a long day of training. Now, it feels oddly cold. 

You walked over to your dresser, pulling the top drawer open to grab a fresh pair of underwear and pajamas for after. You tossed them on your bed, reaching down for your bottom drawer to grab a particular towel you liked. It didn’t take you long to put your hair up, not in the mood to wash it just yet, and head to the bathroom. You squinted a bit as the nearly white fluorescent lights filled the room, if you had your way you’d change them to something softer. 

It took all of five seconds for your world to come crashing down around you again, eyes zeroing in on the pregnancy test sitting on your counter. I fucking forgot about it…

You set your towel down on the counter, holding your breath as you took the step and reached for the test. You gave yourself no time to prepare, eyes scanning the results once before it hit you like a ton of bricks. You dropped it, letting it clatter on the porcelain counter as a jagged sob ruptured from your chest. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, the other resting on your chest, your heart thumping so wildly you were certain it would burst. 

There, on the test, were two lines. It was positive. 

You nearly fell forward, dropping down to the trash can beside your sink and rummaging through it without hesitation. Your fingers wrapped around the plastic test from this morning, yanking it up and looking at the results again. There, on the initial test from that morning, were two lines. You didn’t drop it this time, eyes staring at the results as if they’d change. Positive, this whole time it had been positive. You just hadn’t let the first test develop long enough. 

“When… How…” You uttered softly, the logical part of your brain screaming at you to be realistic for a second rather than acting so surprised. The irrational side of your brain was still reeling from the revelation. As if Suguru hadn’t been adamant in trying to knock you up for months. “You fucking bastard… you get your way and leave me with the aftermath.” You were struggling, there was no way you’d be able to pinpoint when it happened until you found out how far along you were. For some reason, that was what made reality really set in. 

Hot tears streaked your face, sobbing so harshly that it felt like your lungs would collapse on you. You moved in a blur, legs carrying you out of your dorm and down the hall until you were pushing open Satoru’s door. “Woah there, sounds like someone’s hun…” He looked up, the teasing tone in his voice dropping immediately when he saw the tears streaming down your face. “What the fuck happened? Are you hurt?” Satoru crossed the room in two long strides, hands cupping your face as your lips wobbled. 

You couldn’t get the words out, crying harder as he ran his hands over you searching for some type of wound. “C’mon, what happened?” His tone had more of a bite to it than he intended but you were causing panic to seep through his veins. You couldn’t breathe, legs nearly buckling under the weight of your reality. Satoru seemed to catch this, hands shooting out to support you as he brought both of you to the floor. “Y/N, please.” he urged you, throat feeling tight. 

You shook your head, still sobbing as you raised your hand meekly, the positive pregnancy test out in the open for him to see. Blue eyes widened significantly when he saw it, he didn’t even need to see the two lines to understand why you were so hysterical. “Oh…oh.” he swallowed, hand shakily taking the test from your hand to look at it. “Oh fuck.” it was just barely above a whisper, arm holding you just a little tighter as you cried into his chest. 

At least part of you was aware of the possibility, Satoru on the other hand felt completely blindsided. “You two didn’t use protection?” He uttered softly, rocking you slightly without thinking as your cries continued, you couldn’t think at that moment, unable to calm yourself down. You managed to shake your head in response, unable to feel embarrassed as you admitted to not using condoms when with Suguru. “Fuck… did you ever use protection with him?” 

He knew the answer, of course he fucking knew the answer. Suguru was utterly obsessed with you, so in love it was nearly nauseating. You shook your head again, confirming that you’d never once used protection with him. “Hey… c’mon…” he started softly when your body shook with the force of your cries but you were no longer making any sounds. He wanted to say it would be alright but he wasn’t sure if it would be. 

That answer relied on you. 

He couldn’t expect you to be alright, you had your heart broken three weeks prior by the man who often talked about proposing to you as soon as you all graduated. If those were the kind of conversations Suguru was having with him, he couldn’t imagine the conversations Suguru had been having with you. Well, that was a bit of a lie. Considering your reaction to the test results, it seemed this was a long sought after goal. Your cries were from heartbreak, not fear. 

~

“I’ve been looking at rings.” Satoru glanced up, noodles dangling half way from his lips. “Hah?” He watched Suguru grimace a bit, some broth splattering as Satoru questioned him. “I’ve been looking at rings for Y/N.” Suguru stated again, a little more cautiously now, watching Satoru slurp the rest of the noodles into his mouth. “Suguru, we haven’t even entered our third year.” 

“I know, but…” he shrugged, unable to formulate the right way to say it. “...But? You’re not even eighteen yet, neither is she.” It wasn’t that Satoru didn’t think it was okay, he just figured you were both way too young to even fathom those things. “I don’t intend on proposing to her until we’ve graduated. Listen I know it seems fast but…” Suguru's hands fidgeted with his utensils for a moment, eyes avoiding Satoru until he was ready.

“I love her, Satoru. I didn’t even think it was possible to love someone as much as I love her.” 

Satoru blinked, a bit taken back by such a bold declaration over a bowl of cheap ramen. “I’m not doubting that you love her, Suguru. I just think it’s a bit crazy to think about these things so young.” Suguru sighed, watching Satoru with weary eyes as he moved to eat more noodles. 

“We’re sourcers, Satoru. A long life isn’t guaranteed.” 

~

“Breathe, please. You’re going to pass out.” Satoru’s hand was slapping your back as you coughed, the tears had finally begun to slow but you still weren’t able to form a coherent sentence. “Please…” he tried again, watching you try your best to take a deep breath. It was followed by another, this time it wasn’t superficial. After a couple more, you were able to rub the tears from your eyes and look at him without blurry vision. 

“S-satoru I’m so so-sorry.” you hiccuped, your throat feeling raw from your crying. “You have nothing to apologize for, stop feeling like you have to apologize for everything you do.” he let you go a bit, motioning for you to get up with him and sit on his bed rather than the floor. He watched you crawl under his covers, curling up against his pillows, sniffling softly. Despite the weight of the conversation you were about to have, Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle. 

He crawled onto his bed as well, sitting beside you but above the covers. “So… I guess the best place to start is… how did this happen. By that I mean, was it intentional?” You sighed, toying with the end of his pillow case as you spoke. “Suguru had been trying to get me pregnant for months now.” You felt warmth flood your cheeks, it felt awkward admitting something like that. “I knew the bastard had a breeding kink.” Satoru said it more to himself than you, but that didn’t stop the shrill yell of his name as you slapped his arm. 

“I’m being honest! He just seemed like the type.” Satoru shrugged, holding back laughter as you rolled your eyes and settled back into sulking. “I shouldn’t be so blindsided by this, but it’s fucking ironic that he got what he wanted after he fucking left me… us.” you corrected softly, feeling selfish for being so focused on yourself when Satoru was hurting too. “The universe knows how to play cruel jokes, I’ve thought that my whole life. But, that’s beside the point. We can’t sit here and sulk over it, we need to talk about what to do next.” 

You looked up at Satoru, eyes red from crying. It hurt his heart, you looked like a kicked puppy. In that moment he realized how heavily he relied on Suguru, because even now he found himself itching to grab his phone and call him for advice. What was worse, you were now looking to him for help, when really he was just as scared as you. “The next logical step is I need to find a doctor who can run a blood test and confirm the store bought tests are accurate. After that, they need to tell me how far along I am so I can pinpoint when this happened.”

Satoru nodded, you’d both have to fill in Shoko in the morning, she’d be able to help with all the medical bits. “I… I know this seems a bit invasive so please don’t take offense… but are you going to keep it?” Satoru fidgeted a bit, eyes watching as you seemed to zone out and think. Your initial answer was yes, of course, but were you really capable of raising a baby on your own? Then again, you didn’t think you could stomach giving them away for adoption, and you certainly didn’t want to get rid of them. Not after you chased this goal for months, regardless of the way things were right now. “Yeah, as terrifying as it is, I want this baby, Satoru.” 

“Okay, so we got two of the biggest things out of the way. Now, the hardest…” you huffed as he trailed off, you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to answer the next question. “What do we do about Suguru, that’s what you’re going to say, right?” It was Satoru’s turn to huff now, nodding as he looked away from you to stare at his hands.

“He… he needs to know.” 

“No the fuck he doesn’t.” 

You both stared at each other, completely scandalized by the other’s response. “Satoru… He needs to know… he…he’s the fucking dad? How am I supposed to jus–” Satoru shook his head, hands coming up to rub his face before letting them fall back to his lap. “Suguru is a fucking criminal now, he murdered people. Hundreds of people I should fucking remind you and you just want to waltz back into his fucking life and tell him that shit?” You sat up now, eyes burning holes into his skull as you waited for him to at least look at you. “Do you hear yourself?” 

You were seething, that same anger you held for Suguru leaving was now bubbling at Satoru for uttering his name like it was pure filth. Satoru stiffened, eyes turning to glare at you. But, every ounce of anger seemed to drain from his body when he saw nothing but hurt glowing in your tired and puffy eyes. “I fucking get it, Satoru. I know what Suguru did but fuck, how am I supposed to just get over him? How am I supposed to carry his child for nine months and push it out of my body just to raise it on my fucking own and never tell him? He’s the one that wanted this in the first place!” Tears glossed your eyes over, hands shaking as they fisted in his sheets.

His mouth opened before closing again, eyes looking away from you because he knew he'd never be able to try and talk sense into you when you looked at him like that. “And what if the child is unable to see curses?” he sounded defeated. “What then, Y/N? What if you give birth to this baby and they lack the ability to see them? That baby would be the very thing Suguru hates.” You froze, it felt like someone had poured ice water down the back of your neck. “If he didn’t spare his own parents, he won’t spare his own child.” Satoru swallowed, looking like he wanted to say so much more but didn’t. He let the words hang there, heavy and dark. 

The silence stretched on between the two of you, mostly because you knew he was right. Just because both parents had the ability to see into the curse world and use curse energy, it didn’t guarantee that their offspring would also carry the same blessing. You blinked, hand subconsciously moving to rest over your stomach, as if it would do anything to protect them. “Suguru he… he wouldn’t…” Your words were weak and at that moment Satoru couldn’t bring himself to really fight with you. “But he would, y/n that’s the fucking issue, he would.” his voice was breaking, unsure if he should say what he wanted to say next. 

“Then what am I going to do?” You were going to dissolve, tears burning your eyes again as the harsh reality began to sink in. “Let me help you, let me help you raise the baby. I can easily provide for the two of you.” He turned to look at you now, eyes burning with such intensity it stole the air from your lungs. “What?” you hadn’t meant for it to sound offended, you were shocked to say the least, but still the hurt that flashed through his features made you feel the urge to reach out and hug him. “Satoru I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh…” You moved forward, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and hugging him. 

It took a second but his arms came up to wrap around your middle, holding you tightly. “It’s okay, it was a bold statement to make so suddenly.” he soothed you when really you felt that you  should be the one soothing him. “No it’s fine, really it just caught me by surprise and…” you hugged him a little tighter, burying your face in his neck. For a moment you nearly stiffened, that was something you usually did to seek comfort from Suguru. In that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, finding comfort in Satoru’s reassuring embrace. “You don’t have to answer me tonight.” He hushed you, hand coming up to smooth your hair as he kept you close. “I doubt you have an appetite now, how about we just sleep?” 

“I still need to shower.” You pulled away, laughing softly when you remembered what you had been in the process of doing before your world flipped. “Okay, then go and shower but please come back to me when you’re done.” His tone was quiet, something in it held no room for you to disagree. So, you let go of him reluctantly, nodding as you crawled over him to stand. “Again, you don’t have to answer me tonight, or tomorrow, or even next week. But please, think about what I said.” He stayed on his bed, watching you shakily grab the pregnancy test before heading for his door. “I will, Satoru. Keep my spot warm.” you smiled at him over your shoulder, heart still heavy as you disappeared through the open door. 

The hot water on your skin wasn’t enough to wash away the dread growing in your chest. You found your hands absentmindedly running along your abdomen, still finding it hard to believe something was there, something that would grow into a living breathing human in a few months time. A mix of you and Suguru, how strange. This wasn’t how you imagined it would happen, nor were these the feelings you expected to experience when the time came. If anything, it made you more upset. You should be happy, you should be fucking estatic. You should be basking in the euphoric state of knowing you’d be having a child with the man you adored. 

Instead, you had sobbed in the arms of his best friend, completely hysterical. And the man you loved had no idea you were even pregnant, that the very thing he wanted had been achieved and he wouldn’t even get to know. At least not yet. You had taken Satoru’s words into consideration, of course you did. But in the back of your mind, you knew there was no way you’d be able to go on with your life without ever telling Suguru. He would know, he would know of his child, you were already set on that. You twisted the knob, the water turning off a second later as you got out and dried yourself off a bit before wrapping the towel around you. 

Your body was aching from the events of the last few hours. Returning to Satoru’s room and sleeping in his warm bed sounded like heaven to you. Sleeping next to someone again felt like heaven to you. You had to wonder what Suguru would think if he knew you were sharing his best friend’s bed – albeit nothing sexual was occuring between the two of you. And even then, Suguru had broken up with you in that letter, you were technically no longer his. The thought made you feel sick as you reached for the clothing you had laid on your bed. You pulled the shorts on first, reaching for the oversized shirt second, trying to ignore the nausea building in your gut. 

You moved around your room without thinking, flicking the lights off before heading out the door and back down the hall. Satoru had changed into his own pajamas, hair damp from the shower he must have taken while you went to take yours. He only had his bedside lamp on, the pace beside him vacant and waiting for you. “Are you sure you don’t want food?” he questioned softly as you shut the door behind you. “I’ll eat a good breakfast if my morning sickness allows.” Those words felt foreign, referring to your nausea as morning sickness felt so bizarre. “Alright but if you wake up in the middle of the night starving don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

You laughed softly, huffing out an “okay” as you crawled over him and under the covers once more. Satoru pulled the blankets up over both of you before reaching over and flicking off the light. “Goodnight.” he spoke softly, settling into his bed as you rolled onto your side to get comfortable. “Night, Satoru.” You whispered back, eyes already feeling heavy, the comfort his bed offered was no match for the gnawing reality you were facing. For now, you were thankful for it. 

~

“Think fast!” You laughed, hurtling one of the poles directly in Satoru’s direction. He turned, using infinity to block it just before it hit his face. “Nice! Your reflexes are getting faster.” You picked up another weapon, Suguru was watching you intently, an easy smile on his face. “Sugu!” You called, aiming to throw another pole. “Think fast.” you repeated, arm going back before using every ounce of strength to beeline it straight at him. Suguru smiled, summoning a curse easily to deflect it. “Not bad.” you winked, watching him roll his eyes as the curse disappeared.

“Y’all are gross.” Satoru drawled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “We didn’t even say anything?” Suguru countered, stepping out of the shade and into the sun. “You don’t need to say anything, the tension is almost unbearable.” Shoko chimed, twirling her lighter around her fingers as she watched the three of you. This time you couldn’t help but laugh, letting Suguru close the distance and wrap an arm around your waist. “See, gross!” Satoru sighed dramatically as you kissed Suguru’s cheek. “It’s called being in love, something you wouldn’t get, Satoru.” You stuck your tongue out at him, laughing as he rolled his eyes. 

“Well if you’re gonna be all gross and lovey with one another, go do it in private.” 

“Okay.” 

You and Suguru spoke in unison, a shrill laugh leaving you as he bent down and hauled you up and over his shoulder. Naturally Shoko faked a gagging noise, watching as he carried you away with a smile. “They’re so gross.” Satoru commented again, eyes following the two of you until you were completely out of sight. Though, he couldn't deny the small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Suguru.” you slapped his back lightly, he was still carrying you over his shoulder even after entering the dorm buildings. “Hmm?” he paid you no mind as he climbed the stairs, his end destination would be your dorm room… more specifically your bed. “You can put me down now.” You knew he wouldn’t, so you opted for running your hands along his back, feeling his steps falter for a moment before composing himself. “I’ll put you down when I’m good and ready.” 

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at his ass. “Alright, that's it. You’re getting punished.” His words were very matter-of-fact, so much so that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Okay dad.” Suguru didn’t miss a beat, stalking down the hallway towards your dorm room. “Yeah, I’m trying to become one so it would help me out if you cooperated.” You made a strangled noise, it had been three weeks since Suguru admitted to wanting to get you pregnant. Needless to say, he wasn’t giving up any time soon. 

“You just want a reason to fuck me.” You tried to counter, jumping a bit as he pushed into your dorm room and kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t need a reason to fuck you, baby.” You couldn't describe the noise you made, whiplash taking over as he tossed you onto your bed. “I guess that’s true…” You pushed up on your elbows, watching him pull his white shirt up and over his head, knocking his hair out of his bun in the process. “You’ll be good for me right?” He was dropping to his knees before you, a gentle plea of his name leaving your lips.

“Atta girl.” he murmured, warm fingers hooking in the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down. You watched him with parted lips, watching the way his eyes observed you. “Already wet? How fucking filthy.” his hands splayed along your thighs, pushing them wide open so he could really look at you. “Just because I picked you up? Or maybe it was from wrapping my arms around your waist?” He teased, pulling one hand from your thigh to spread your cunt open instead. “Tell me, pretty girl… what has you so worked up already?” 

“All of it.” You’re breathless as you look at him, no shame in your eyes as you admit how badly you want him. Suguru smiled, fingers keeping you spread as he watched the arousal pool at your entrance. “All of it, hmm? I make you that horny?” His tone was light but the look in his eyes was anything but. You could feel him devouring you whole. “Yeah, you fucking do.” You tried to keep your hips still, praying he’d do something other than watch you grow wetter by the second. “Tell me something, would you?” he pulled his eyes away to meet yours. 

“Anything.” You comment softly, waiting to hear what he had to say. Suguru smiled, fighting the urge to reach up and tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.” His voice was barely a whisper, pupils blown wide as he looked at you. You audibly groan, face feeling warm as your head falls back. “Eat me out, Suguru.” You drawl, no longer embarrassed by the things he makes you say. “As you wish.” He couldn’t even tease you for such an honest answer. Suguru’s head dipped lower, tongue licking up your inner thighs, teeth grazing the skin eagerly. 

“Sugu…” You whined out, his lips growing closer to your aching cunt. “... can I suck you off after?” 

Suguru’s whole body jolted as you uttered those words, mouth moving to lick and suck along your folds as his honest answer. You took that as a yes. You couldn’t help but squirm as his hands began kneading the flesh of your thighs, all the while his tongue was lapping at your cunt. Each movement sent electricity up your spine, one hand shakily reaching out to hold his head as his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit. “Oh fuck… Suguru…” you were embarrassed by how quickly he had learned to make you cum, the pressure already building in your gut. 

He didn’t slow, rather he slipped two fingers into your slick entrance and scissored them in time with his sucking. He loved to put on a show for you, going as far as to slurp your juices just so he could hear you cry out. You couldn’t think straight when his tongue was wiggling against your clit, stopping every few seconds to suck until your back arched. Suguru continued this until he felt your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling harsh as your moans turned into breathy gasps. He pulled away with a slick pop, smiling deviously as your head shot up to glare at him. “Suguru!” You wailed, letting go of his hair angrily. 

“Not yet, I don’t want you coming yet.”  

“No fucking fair!” you whined, head falling back against the mattress in defeat. “So selfish.” Suguru laughed as he pushed himself off the floor, now making a show of pulling the rest of his clothing off. “There goes your chances at getting head.” you chided, watching as that shit eating grin remained on his lips. “You think this is funny!” you whined again, the echoes of your denied orgasm making you close your thighs to try and alleviate the pressure. Suguru watched you, cock throbbing as he kicked his pants off the rest of the way and tossed them to the side. 

“I do think it’s funny, mostly because you look so cute when you’re so worked up.” his hands wrapped around himself, pumping languidly as you spread your thighs again, eager for more. Suguru smirked, always defiant until his cock was out. “Nah baby, I don’t think you deserve this right now.” he continued to stroke himself, head falling back just a bit as his own aching arousal was finally being relieved. “Sugu…” you choked out in a hushed whisper, mouth watering as he let out a breathy sigh, fingers toying with the sensitive tip. You were regretting your earlier statement. 

“Sugu…” you spoke softly, watching him lift one leg to plant his foot on the mattress, hand still gliding along his shaft as his jaw slackened. He ignored you, continuing to get himself off. He was waiting for you to do something, that realization had you pushing yourself up, pulling your shirt up and over your head and tossing it to the ground. You pulled your legs off the side of the bed, maneuvering yourself until you sat on your knees before him. “Let me suck you off.” breathless, hands folded neatly on your lap as you waited for his response. 

Suguru smiled at you, watching the mattress move as your hips squirmed. “I thought you said the chances of me getting head were gone.” he teased, hand massaging just before the head of his cock, making his own voice falter as he spoke to you. “I never said that.” which was kind of true, you didn’t say those exact words. Suguru cocked an eyebrow, unable to maintain his stern demeanor as your tongue moved to wet your lips, eyes completely focused on his fist. “Please, your hand is so boring Suguru, especially when you could have my mouth.” you tried again, eyes sliding up his torso, admiring the dips and plains of his muscles. 

“When you put it like that, it’s hard to say no.” he murmured softly, letting his cock go. You scooted closer, until your knees were nearly off the edge of the mattress. “Thank you.” You whispered softly, watching his face flush a shade of pink, eyes quickly looking away from you to try and regain some sort of composure. The first touch was always enough to make him weak in the knees, your tongue gliding gently over his weeping tip before lowering to the underside of his shaft. He met your eyes, face still flushed as you looked at him with such adoration. All the while your mouth was doing sinful things to him, your duality was enough to induce whiplash. 

His fingers came up to rake through your hair, guiding you as your jaw slackened, head moving to engulf him in the wet heat your mouth had to offer. “Oh fuck…” Suguru choked when you didn’t stop moving, throat constricting as your nose brushed the unruly mess of black hair at his base. You held yourself there, drool dripping down your chin as your cheeks hollowed. Slowly you dragged yourself back, watching the shiny coat of saliva covering his shaft in your wake. You repeated those motions, finding a comfortable place to bob your head at, his length heavy on your tongue. “So good for me… fuck you’re so good for me… I don’t know what I did to deserve you…” 

You merely hummed, ignoring the slow but steady ache building in your jaw as your hand moved along his shaft. You could tell he was starting to really feel it, his cock twitching every few motions, head tilted back as his eyes fluttered shut. You had to admit you were impressed he managed to stay on his feet. Most times, when Suguru dared to eat you out while you were standing, you were nearly a dead weight in his grasp by the end. The only thing keeping you up was the wall he stuffed you against and his shoulders because he tossed your legs over them. You stopped when you felt him twitching violently, jaw clenched tight as his head shot forward to look down at you.

“Gonna make me cum, pretty girl.” He choked out, hands cupping your cheeks to guide you as you moved your head again. Your hands shot out, holding his thighs tightly as you let him use your head how he pleased, guiding you to a pace that made your eyes water before he stilled all together. You forced yourself to relax as Suguru spilled down your throat, letting you greedily swallow all of it before pulling off of him with a lewd pop. “Fuck…” he nearly fell into the bed, dick still hard as he crawled onto the matress with you. “How about we do this…” he sounded breathless, laying on his side and guiding you to do the same. You knew what he wanted, swollen lips parting as you sighed, settling with your back just barely touching his front. 

You let Suguru grab one leg, lifting it up slowly to create enough space for himself. “Lazy boy…” You teased over your shoulder, letting his arm hook under your neck, large hand resting on your chest. “Maybe I am, but you fucking love it.” You couldn’t complain, not when he was angling his hips and pressing the weeping tip of his cock at your entrance. He pressed into you, adjusting both of your bodies until he found a comfortable position to properly rut his hips into you. All you could do is let him, whining loudly as he split you open, stuffing you full. “How’s that, hmm? Does it feel good?” Suguru whispered against your ear, panting as your walls constricted around him and tried to push him out at the very same time. “F-feels so good…so good…” You whined loudly. 

Suguru didn’t give you a verbal response after that, instead focusing all of his attention on finding a good rhythm to fuck you too. You couldn’t stop the noises that spilled past your lips, each drag of his cock in and out of your heat was enough to make your vision blurry. It took everything in you to at least keep your head up, tilted downwards to watch where he disappeared and reappeared between your legs.  “Suguru…” a breathless plea, one that turned into a steady mantra as all you could think about was him and what he was doing to you. Had you not been so overwhelmed you would have heard his quiet grunts of praise each time your bodies connected. 

Suguru watched a shaky hand slide down your front, in your whimpering daze you managed to slip two fingers down there to rub sloppy circles on your clit. “Gonna cum, aren’t ya?” Suguru gasped, his cock twitching violently as your cunt suctioned to him, nearly making his thrusts falter. “Y-yeah…” you managed to get out, no longer having the strength to keep your head up. You let it fall, resting snuggly in the crook of the arm he was using to support you. “Then come for me, pretty girl. I wanna feel you come all over my cock… then maybe I’ll fill you up, yeah? You’d love that…” you responded with a loud whine, walls fluttering around his length each time he pushed it back in. 

“There we go, come for me.” He encouraged again, warm breath ghosting the shell of your ear and earning a shiver in response. You could feel it, the aching build of a damn that was on the verge of breaking, every breath you made was nothing but a labored pant. Your heart was beating erratically, just as you were about to fall over the edge, Suguru gasped. You couldn’t help but gasp with him, his release pumping into you, hot and sticky. “F-fuck sorry…” he grounded out, his own orgasm sneaking up on him and completely catching you by surprise. Not that it mattered to you, that strained and embarrassed apology was all you needed before you felt yourself coming as well. 

You both essentially collapsed, Suguru holding you tightly as he angled himself to remain inside of you, to keep his cum inside of you. “You okay?” he mumbled softly, hand lazily reaching for the one you had used to rub your clit and bring it to your lips. You whined as he popped the shiny fingers in his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue. “Yeah, I'm good…great really.” You chuckled, eyelids feeling heavy as he hummed. “Good.” he mumbled softly, pulling your fingers from his mouth to kiss them gingerly. “You know I love you, right?” Suguru’s voice was tender, so tender it nearly pulled the air out of your lungs. “Yeah, of course I know that Sugu… you know I love you too, right?” 

“I know.” was all he said in reply, you had to wonder why he was suddenly so sentimental. Suguru was typically softer with you after sex, aftercare was one of his specialties. But something about his tone felt different, something about his question felt like there was more meaning behind it. You had been noticing the bags under his eyes for the last few weeks, but every time you asked he always brushed you off. “Is everything okay?” you tried to turn your head to look back at him, but the angle he had you in proved to make movement difficult. “Mmhmm, just want to make sure you’re okay.” but he hadn’t  been that rough with you. “Yeah, I’m okay… but you haven’t answered me.” He stopped kissing your hand, setting it down gently as he moved to kiss your shoulder. 

“I haven’t?” 

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“Well, I did answer you. I said yes.” he didn’t sound offended, more or less he sounded amused. “Mmhmm isn’t a yes, Suguru.” You, on the other hand, sounded a little less enthused. “I’m okay, baby. Is that better.” you couldn’t see it but you could hear the smile on his lips. “Yeah, that’s better.” But for some reason, you couldn’t shake the worry clinging to your heart. 

~

“Hey… hey…” you woke with a gasp, eyes wet as you tried to remember where you were. “You okay? You started crying in your sleep again.” A worried but groggy voice was speaking to you, one that was familiar but your brain couldn’t seem to catch up. “Y/N? It’s me, it’s Satoru.” There it was, you nearly fell back into the pillow with relief as he spoke. “Shit I’m sorry… I was dreaming and it just… fuck it felt so real. I couldn’t remember where I was…” you wiped your eyes, slowly adjusting to the dark room again. “It’s okay… you’ve been dreaming a lot.” Satoru sighed, he remembered you saying that your nights had been pretty dreamless for the last three weeks so why was that changing now? 

“I know… it just started happening too. Maybe it's because of the baby.”

Your hand lowered to your stomach, palm resting flatley against it. You still couldn’t process the fact that there was something in there, something that was growing, a mix of you and him. “Can pregnancy make you dream more?” Satoru chuckled, blue eyes shifting to read his alarm clock. It was just past four in the morning. You had slept pretty well until a few minutes ago. He had been watching you, woken up by your body growing restless. He woke you up the moment he heard you start to sniffle. “I dunno, maybe.” you sighed, eyes feeling heavy again. “Sorry for waking you, Toru.” You didn’t hear the way his breath hitched, your yawn effectively shutting it all out. 

You hadn’t called him by that nickname in weeks, he hadn’t really realized how much he missed it. “Don’t apologize, I told you to stop that.” Not stern, just tired, he wanted you to go back to normal but he knew that was impossible. Things would never go back to how they were. “Oh, yeah… I guess you have told me that.” You chuckle, turning on your side to face him in the dark. “I won’t apologize for forgetting this time, okay?” You grinned, eyes closing and unaware that he was able to see it in the dark. “Okay.” He sighed, a grin creeping up his own face as he let his eyes shut again. Hopefully you’d sleep through to his alarm at 8:30am, you had a busy day ahead. 

~END OF PART ONE~

Thank you for reading! I hope you look forward to part 2 <3333

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ;3

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 3- Gotham's most beloved

______________________________

"wha- AGHHHHHHH, SHIT, THIS ISN'T MY FAULT", you try to tell the system "STOP! PLEASE!"

Alfred runs to you, "Miss what's wrong?", when he touches you, he feels it too, he lets go immediately, thousands of questions on his head "Miss?"

The system cannot be known. Use 5000 points for memory erasure or face another penalty

Time: 5 minutes

Penalty: death

"I GET IT! STOP! IT WASN'T MY FAULT PLEASE!! I DIDN'T KNOW HE FOLLOWED! PLEASE STOP" You yell

After the penalty was over, your breathing was heavy, tears struck on your face, the food toppled over from your squirming and crying

Alfred is right there. Looking at you with shock and worry "Miss (Name) what-" before he could finish his question, you moved

-5000 points

•memory erasure 2 minutes

He forgets, now he's just standing there awkwardly, not knowing why 2 minutes ago while he was watching from afar it was neat cute set up but now it's messy and spilled

"Alfred... Why did you come!?" You yell at him

He seemed taken aback "Miss I just felt you shouldn't spend your birthday alone, I was worried"

The pain in your body has subsided and you stand up, getting out of the tent, not caring for the rain "Can't you just act like the rest of them!? Can't you just hate me!?!"

His eyes looked at you with pity, but that only fueled your anger, you didn't need pity, you didn't want pity

"But Miss, I'm not like the rest of them, I care-"

"No you don't. You feel obligated, you devoted yourself to Thomas and Martha, you feel devoted to take care of the only thing they left, Bruce. And your loyal to him and everyone Bruce cared about, the only reason you're here is because I share the blood of your previous masters, you're not here because of me. You don't know who I am" you yell

You have a right to feel angry, you just got electrocuted because of him, he doesn't know that, well, he forgot

He knows you're right, that's why he's doing this, he wants all he Wayne's to get along, that's what Thomas and Martha would want "Miss... I know master Bruce has his shortcomings, no father should have neglected their own daughter-"

"tell that to your own daughter, the one you left in England to serve the Waynes"

He freezes.

You don't understand why the authors of this concept write Alfred as a good guy

"How is Julia? When was the last time you saw her?" You ask "Go keep taking care of the Waynes leave me be"

"Miss (Name), you are also a Wayne" he says

"No I'm not, I am my mother's daughter, not Bruce's, how can I be his daughter when he doesn't act like my father?"

______________________________

You wake up feeling shitty, your body hurts, your brain hurts, and your heart feels heavy, you should be used to it by now

No one in this house is ever going to be on your side, Alfred didn't care about you, he just wanted to preserve Thomas and Martha Wayne's blood

He knew you've been going and living with your mother's last name

And you've just spent 5000 points, you were saving up to buy a mirror that could see back in your previous world, it was 1000000 points

This sucks. You wanted your mom, and your other mom... And your real dad, and your real siblings, not these condescending assholes

In every reincarnation story, it's either possible or impossible to return back to your original world, you don't know if it's possible

"System?"

Yes?

"Is it possible for my return... In my original world?"

It is possible

Holy fuck, you jump out of bed "How!?"

You already know how

"what!? No I don't!"

You do

"is this like a Dorothy situation? Do I just shut my eyes and click my heels three times?"

You sigh, you might as well try, you close your eyes, "there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home"

You open them and find yourself still in your bedroom "Well now I just feel stupid."

"Miss (Name)?" A knock on your door, "Breakfast is ready, please come down" It's Alfred

You cringe and remember your outburst last night, you were just so angry that he made you fail your mission and got you electrocuted

After a few seconds of silence he knocked again "young Miss... Are you angry with me?" He asks

Yes you are. You don't like how he claims to care but whenever he sees you being bullied by one of Bruce's kids he doesn't reprimand them, whenever Bruce misses an award ceremony, he doesn't force him to go, how do you think you got away without being known as a Wayne for 2 years?

"I'm skipping breakfast" you say (no you're not)

From your 563th mission, you had to perform a violin concert without any of your family members attending, it was easy enough and the reward was a magic mini fridge that gives you whatever food you want

As by the system's words "A neglected reader isn't worthy of eating with their family, they eat alone"

You open the fridge and somehow end up with fresh hot pancakes and syrup

______________________________

You walk through the streets of Gotham, you're 12 your bag is loaded with shit, pepper spray, a pocket knife disguised as a ball pen, and a taser

Why is it always raining in Gotham?

You've been dodging Alfred for the past few days, you can't rely on your magic fridge forever since Alfred will start wondering if you're starving yourself or something

"Jollibee..." You see the building in a far distance, near it you see a child in worn out clothes, he seemed to be selling something

Ah... He's selling flowers...

As you spot the cart behind him still full, he didn't sell much, you also see some girl toys at the bottom of his cart

You enter the restaurant "3 orders of C3 please, to go"

"um miss... Can you please separate the orders, 2 and 1, for the 2 please add some peach mango pies" you add

You wait for a while, subtly eyeing the kid, and your hunch was right an even smaller girl came with two umbrellas, the boy had a little sister

After getting the order, you come near them, is this weird? Approaching a boy, a little younger than you and giving them food, the boy looked about 8 and the girl 6

"Miss..." He looks embarrassed "We can't pay you for the food..."

"that's fine, just give me a flower" you smile "And also... Do you live in a neighborhood?", he tilts his head "Yes Miss I do"

"you should just work for your neighbors, don't stray too far from home, Gotham is dangerous" you feel kind of a hypocrite since you use to do the same things this boy did, at an even younger age "so your sister won't have to fetch you when it's raining, both of you might get sick"

He smiled at you "Yes Miss, thank you again"

You walk away, no matter how many years you've been living here, you still hate it, you were either born very lucky or very unlucky in Gotham

You see a woman under a bus stop on call with someone on her phone "Sweetie... Mommy is going to be late tonight, I don't have an umbrella, just sit tight there okay?" She hangs up "Should I just make a run for it?" You hear her say

Then you remember, your mom once came home soaked and feverish, she had promised to buy you takeout since you cooked for her the day before, she was worried you'd sleep without eating anything so she ran through the rain to be able to eat with you

It was fine, you had a jacket anyway, you pull the hood of your jacket to your head and approach the lady "Ma'am, do you need this?" You hand her your umbrella

She looked shocked "oh I can't possibly take this from you!", you give it to her nonetheless "It's alright ma'am, I have a jacket and my house is very near" (the house is a lie obviously), she smiles at you "Thank you so much, I left my daughter at home and god knows how hungry she is right now, take care okay? The roads are slippery" she says before leaving

You underestimated the rain and ended up soaking wet by the time you're at the manor, Alfred greets you and he looks away from you, he seems worried about your state but is ashamed

Then you hand him the flower you got earlier "Im sorry I lashed out" you say

"thank you miss... And I'm sorry for disturbing you when you visited your mother, I shouldn't have overstepped" he says

He meets your eyes and guides you to sit down at the kitchen, he comes back with a towel and dries you off

You need at least one person who cares for you, at least one

______________________________

You wake up the next day, finally comfortable to eat downstairs because reconciling with Alfred, you're the first one here, guess the family is still asleep, or maybe they already ate, you don't know, you pick up a news paper and-

"Gotham's angel.

Spotted giving food to children, and giving away her umbrella in the cold rain, we found that this kind girl is none other than Bruce Wayne's hidden daughter! After investigating some more we found out that (Name) Wayne donates books and toys to an orphanage without even her own father knowing!"

"Because that's the orphanage I stayed in!" You panic, you wanted to still be able to visit the few friends you managed to make in your days there

"She also tutors children from a poor neighborhood for years without charge and doesn't tell her family! True kindness doesn't need an audience but years of compassion from (Name) Wayne should be recognized, she's been helping other people for years without anyone knowing, a true angel!"

"That place was my old neighborhood!? What is this angel bullshit???" Hello??? Again those children are your friends!??

You've unlocked a special event!

Most Neglected readers blend in the background, but in some cases, they become popular through either being a celebrity or becoming a business man

You have become famous! Continue being famous and gain fans!

Special mission: Make the public like you even more, to 100%

Public love meter: 60%

Time: 1 week

Special reward: bulletproofing (Gotham is a dangerous place! Who says you need to be from krypton for bullets to bounce off you? Everything you wear becomes bulletproof!)

"So... If non-common tropes of neglected au can happen... Like if the reader gets famous, does this mean I can get superpowers?" You whisper to yourself

No you cannot. You already have me, don't be greedy ಠ⁠ಗ⁠ಠ

"ah.. sorry system" you whisper again

______________________________

Reader: having flashbacks to when she was poor and doing good deeds to those she meets that resembles her past situation

Gotham: an angel?

______________________________

@yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist

[mggslover]

How the Unsub Stole Christmas ❆

A Holiday to Remember: part 2

In which the BAU's holiday getaway takes a dark turn when a family is found murdered on Christmas, forcing the team to investigate while reader struggles with painful memories of her past and her growing, unspoken feelings for Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: crime, angst, smut (18+), fluff, found family Content warnings: graphic cm case descriptions!!, mentions of shitty childhood, reader getting in some unsub trouble, oral (f receiving), p in v sex. Word count: 9k 🫣 i swear it reads really fast A/n: read part 1 first! writing this story genuinely brought me so much joy, and i hope you will experience the same while reading this. this will be my last fic for the year 2024, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the support, i can't wait to see what the new year will bring for this blog. don't forget to interact with this post if you've enjoyed! 🎄🤍 dividers by @issysh3ll

It shouldn’t have surprised you that you’d be called out for another case. Still, the disappointment lingered thick in the air.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Garcia murmured softly, her tone sad. JJ wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in for a side hug. “Don’t worry,” she reassured gently. “The trip isn’t over yet.”

Penelope seemed satisfied enough with that answer, but then spoke up again. “I don’t want to stay here on my own. It’s spooky knowing someone got murdered just miles away.”

“You can come with us to the station. Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss and Y/L/N, you’ll head to the crime scene. A deputy will be waiting for you there.” Hotch instructed. 

You exhaled softly and gave a brief nod. Spencer glanced over at you, his eyes filled with that quiet empathy you’d come to recognize over the years.

“Good luck,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

“Thanks,” you replied, your words equally soft. “You too.”

Half an hour later, you arrived at the crime scene. The neighborhood was so small it hardly felt like one—just a handful of houses scattered across large, snow-dusted plots of land. It looked peaceful, almost idyllic, as if nothing could ever disturb the calm. The street was adorned with Christmas lights and festive decorations. The only thing slightly out of place was a crack in the bench beside one of the houses. Otherwise, the neighborhood looked like it had stepped right out of a holiday card.

As you stepped out of the car, you noticed the few neighbors who hadn’t yet been driven inside by the cold. They stood in clusters in front of their homes, bundled up in scarves and coats, watching the scene unfold with cautious curiosity.

You looked over at Prentiss. “We should start doing some interviews—maybe send a few of them over to the station.”

She nodded, her expression focused. “Got it.” Without another word, she made her way toward them.

You followed Rossi and Derek toward the red wooden house, where the Deputy awaited by the front door. He looked young—probably around your age. 

Rossi introduced you to Deputy Wilson. Wilson gave a sheepish smile, “Sorry it’s just me. Almost the whole department is unavailable because of the holidays.”

“Convenient timing for a murder,” you mused.

“The scene’s been left as it was when we found it,” Wilson continued. “The back door’s been forced open, and you can see boot prints in the snow leading to the backyard.”

Morgan immediately stepped forward. “I’ll get a shot of those prints for Garcia,” he said, already heading toward the backyard.

Wilson looked at you and Rossi. “You want to take a look inside?”

You paused before heading in, shaking the snow from your boots and making sure not to use the doormat—the one engraved with the names of the family members. It felt wrong, almost disrespectful, to dirty the only thing that might be left of them. 

You took in a sharp breath as you entered the house. Your gaze was first taken by the large Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room, decorated in red and gold. But then you noticed the bloody mess underneath it. Four bodies—two adults and two children—lay scattered on the floor, broken Christmas ornaments surrounding them, as though the killer had dropped them carelessly after his violent act. The mother and father were draped over each other, their throats slit cleanly. The teenage daughter, too, had her throat cut, but her body was twisted in a way that didn’t seem accidental. The small boy—no older than ten—was slumped between them, his face frozen in an expression of terror, a look that would haunt you for days.

The scene before you was a sickening parody of a perfect Christmas. But the most disturbing part wasn’t the carnage—it was their faces. Each of them wore a grotesque, unnerving smile, painted onto their lips in blood. It was a mockery of joy, an image of happiness forced onto the dead.

You felt a wave of nausea rise in your throat and turned away, needing a moment to breathe. It was then that you noticed the walls, once filled with smiling family photos were now smeared with blood. Shattered frames lay scattered on the floor, as if the killer had intentionally destroyed the family’s history, piece by piece. 

Rossi spoke first. “The unsub who stole Christmas,” he mused, his tone almost playful despite the grim reality.

You gave a sharp exhale, a brief scoff escaping your lips. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You put on your gloves and picked up a shattered picture frame from the floor. You handed it to Rossi without a word. He took it, studying it for a moment before speaking again. “One thing’s for sure—this wasn’t just a murder. This is deeply personal.”

You nodded, scanning the room. The starkness of the crime scene was still sinking in, but your mind was already running through the facts. “The execution was meticulous,” you murmured, your gaze flickering over the room, “but the aftermath... messy. The unsub rushed out of here—didn’t even bother closing the back door behind him, and those footprints? Almost like he didn’t care at all about leaving evidence. We might even get lucky and find DNA on the bodies.”

Rossi considered it. “It could be that he was in a hurry. In a small neighborhood like this, people will notice anything out of the ordinary. He probably knew he had to move fast.”

You hummed in return. “It still doesn’t add up. You can’t plan a murder with this much detail and then completely overlook how to cover your tracks afterward.”

You took another slow turn around the room, examining the details. Every piece seemed to add to the strange puzzle, but none of it fit together. As you passed the fireplace, something caught your eye: a piece of paper tucked into one of the stockings. You reached for it carefully, your fingers brushing the corner stained with blood.

You unfolded it with precision, revealing the scrawled words in black ink. The sentence was short and written in Latin, a language you hadn’t encountered in years. You stared at it, furrowing your brow as you tried to make sense of it.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Latin, would you?” You asked Rossi, half-joking, though the seriousness in your voice remained.

Rossi looked up, his expression a mix of confusion and dry humor. “Does it look like I know Latin?”

You smiled, already pulling your phone out of your pocket and speed dialing Spencer. As the phone rang, you turned your attention back to the paper, the blood spatter still making your stomach turn.

“Hey,” you breathed out as he picked up the phone after the second ring.

“Hey,” Spencer replied. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft with concern, your single syllable being enough for him to decipher how you feel.

You glanced over your shoulder at the murdered family, swallowing hard before turning away. “I will be,” you responded. Once that fucker is behind bars.

You straightened, pushing the thoughts away, and focused on the task at hand. “I’ve just found a piece of paper at the crime scene. It’s a text written in Latin. I figured it’d be quicker to ask you than wait for Garcia to look it up.”

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment. “Good call. What does it say?”

You glanced at the paper again, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar words. “Nunc sciunt te perfectum non esse.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Spencer spoke, his voice calm but precise. “Nunc sciunt te perfectum non esse. ‘Now they know you’re not perfect.’” His perfect Latin pronunciation made you wince at how poorly you’d read it.

“What’s that supposed to mean? A taunt?”

Spencer’s voice was thoughtful. “Sounds like he’s trying to prove something. It’s definitely personal.”

You exchanged a look with Rossi, who was standing nearby, holding the broken picture frame. “Yeah, that’s what we’ve been thinking. Whoever this unsub is, he knows the Reynolds family intimately.”

“Garcia’s already digging into the family’s background,” Spencer replied without missing a beat, already a step ahead.

“Good,” you muttered, relief washing over you for a moment. “How are things going over there?”

“JJ’s been trying to reach family, but they don’t live nearby,” Spencer answered. “A snowstorm hit. I’ve been tracking the meteorological data, and the chances of them making it are close to zero.” 

You nodded, a dull ache settling in your chest. “Well, I’m going to keep looking around here. The bodies will be picked up soon to go to the lab, and then I’ll be heading over to the station.”

“Alright,” Spencer replied, his tone warmer now. “I’ll see you there. Be careful.”

“Always am,” you said, offering a small smile even though he couldn’t see it.

The words on the note kept drifting through your mind. Maybe it was the sentiment that came with Christmas—or maybe it was the fact that, up until now, you were having a perfect holiday, something you never thought you’d get to experience—that made the scene remind you of your childhood. How everything looked so joyous from the outside, especially during the holidays. But if you looked closely, you’d see the cracks. The ornaments on the tree, hastily glued together, their edges jagged and uneven. The hole in the wall, cleverly concealed behind your stocking. 

You were probably overthinking it. After all, it wasn’t the family that was broken like yours was—it was the unsub who had shattered their picture-perfect life.

Rossi’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You okay, kid?”

You blinked, pulling yourself out of the past and into the present. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

You and Rossi walked into the secluded room the Sheriff had arranged for the team, exchanging your findings with Morgan and Prentiss along the way. You’d made a quick stop at a Chinese takeaway to grab food for everyone, knowing the team needed fuel for the long hours ahead.

The rest of the team was already seated around the table, and Reid was in the middle of showing Hotch something on the map of the neighborhood.

“Oh, you guys are the best!” Penelope sighed, her voice full of appreciation as she caught sight of the plastic bags you were carrying.

“We couldn’t leave you to go hungry,” Emily responded with a grin.

You took a seat closest to where Spencer was standing, and he naturally slid into the chair beside you. You reached into the bag and pulled out the only plastic fork, knowing he’d struggle with chopsticks. He flashed you a grateful, closed-lip smile as he took it from you.

Once everyone had filled their plates, the conversation turned back to the case.

“Garcia dug up some useful info,” JJ began. “Stephen Reynolds owned a construction company that’s on the verge of going bankrupt. It’s possible the unsub was an employee who got fired—or was cut loose because the company couldn’t afford him anymore.”

“It seems like the whole family was targeted,” you added, leaning forward. “The note was left in one of the children’s stockings. It doesn’t feel like the murder was just directed at Stephen.”

“That’s why we need to find out more about the Reynolds family outside of their neighborhood,” Hotch said. “The employees at the construction company could have insight. It’s clear the neighbors aren’t going to give us much.”

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, a skeptical look on his face. “Did they really not give you anything? The neighbors, I mean.”

Prentiss shook her head. “Nothing useful. They kept insisting that the Reynolds’s were a perfect family. They even seemed offended when I pressed for more.”

“That doesn’t sit right. The note specifically mentioned how the Reynolds’s are not perfect.” Rossi replied. 

“I gotta give it to them, though,” Garcia chimed in. “The Reynolds’s are model citizens. The parents were both heavily involved in charity, and the kids have won multiple prizes in spelling bees and other competitions.”

“Has anything bad ever happened in that neighborhood?” Morgan asked, clearly skeptical about the idea of perfection.

Penelope clicked away on her laptop. “Well, there was a fire in one of the houses about ten years ago, because of damaged Christmas lights.” She made a sad face as she continued searching. “Oh, and a cat got stuck in a tree once… didn’t make it.”

“What happened to the family in the house?” Spencer asked.

Penelope’s fingers paused over the keys. “Uh, let me see… The Eriksens died from smoke inhalation. Oh… this is sad. They left a child, Christopher Eriksen. He was put into foster care when he was just eight.”

“Did the Reynolds’s live there when that happened?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, they did. Actually, they organized a fundraiser to build a bench with the parents’ names engraved on it, in their memory.”

You felt your pulse quicken at the mention of the bench. Something about it seemed strangely familiar, but you couldn’t trust your mind right now—not with everything still scattered from the case, and the ghosts of your past tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, but you decided to ignore it, keeping your focus on Hotch as he spoke up. 

“It’s best if we head back to the cabin to rest up,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, and the station’s closing tonight so everyone can spend time with their families.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, the relief of getting some rest evident on their faces. But as the team began gathering their things, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. You hated the idea of putting the case on hold, even if it was just for the night. The face of that little boy kept haunting your thoughts, his wide eyes silently pleading for answers, for peace. You couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Spencer’s hand snakes up on your shoulder, his warm hold holding you in place. His lips barely moved as he mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whispered, shaking your head.

The entire car ride had been silent. Spencer’s gaze would occasionally flicker over to you in the backseat, but you kept your eyes fixated on the road, watching the scenery blur past.

The silence stretched on as you said your goodnights to the rest of the team and walked toward your shared room with Spencer. As you both got ready for bed, there was an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Now, lying in the king-sized bed, you both stared up at the ceiling, the quiet stillness between you thick with unspoken words.

“When are we finally going to talk about what’s wrong?” Spencer’s voice broke the silence, careful but insistent.

You stayed quiet for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. “Nothing’s wrong,” you replied, your words coming out a little too quickly.

“There’s obviously something wrong,” he pressed gently. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know,” you answered, your voice softer now, more honest. Usually, Spencer never had to press. There was something about him—something warm and patient—that made it easy to open up, to share your thoughts without fear of judgment. But this time, it felt different. It wasn’t just the case. It felt personal, something you couldn’t fully explain.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you said, thinking aloud. “It’s just… something’s off. And I don’t know if it’s just me.”

“What do you feel?” His question was quiet, but his concern was clear.

You hesitated. “It sounds stupid,” you muttered, brushing it off.

“Nothing you could say would sound stupid to me.” His words, soft and sincere, made your chest tighten with warmth. You turned your head to look at him, noticing the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered on you.

“You thought it was stupid that I shower at 115 degrees,” you said with a playful smile.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the tension easing just a little. “I don’t think it’s stupid that you like it,” he said, his voice gentle. “I just think it’s stupid that you’d risk hurting yourself over it.”

His eyes warmly looked at you. One hand rested underneath his pillow as he lay on his side. You turned toward him, mirroring his position.

"I’m really struggling with this case," you softly admitted, trying to keep eye contact, though your gaze flickered down, betraying the weight of your words.

“Was it hard seeing the crime scene?”

"Yeah," you choked out, your throat tight. You blinked quickly to try to stop the tears that threatened to spill. “It was... it was horrible.”

His hand reached out to gently rub your bare arm under the blanket. "It’s completely normal to feel affected by what you saw," he began, his voice steady but laced with the kind of empathy that only someone like him could offer. "Witnessing something as violent and horrific as the bodies of two children—it’s traumatic. The brain processes trauma in complex ways, especially when it involves young victims. According to studies in neuropsychology, traumatic experiences, particularly those involving children, can cause the brain to release a surge of stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. This flood of chemicals can lead to acute emotional responses, such as anxiety and flashbacks.”

“I’ve been experiencing flashbacks,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. You met his gaze, looking for reassurance, and he gave you the space to speak, waiting patiently. “It actually started earlier today, when we arrived at the cabin. I’ve never experienced a Christmas like this, you know, the kind that feels warm and joyful. I- I don’t know if I’m making connections that aren’t there, but the feeling I had in that house was the same feeling I used to get when I was growing up.”

He tilted his head. "What feeling?"

“...Jealousy.”

His eyebrows knitted. “Jealousy?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, gathering your thoughts. “You could feel so much rage in there. Everything that made the home feel homey—that warmth, that love—was completely shattered. The way the unsub positioned the family members under the Christmas tree, the way the note was tucked into the stocking… There’s a reason for it. Christmas represents this idealized view of perfection. I don’t think the message was to prove that the company going bankrupt is some sort of imperfection in the family’s picture-perfect life. No, it feels like the unsub was jealous of their happiness. Of the fact that they had a family who seemed perfect—something he never had. He wanted to destroy it. To ruin their happiness. He could never have it, so he shattered the illusion of perfection entirely.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing your words. “So you think the Reynolds’s were targeted as surrogates?”

“I guess so. But you don’t just stumble across a neighborhood as desolate as theirs.” you responded.

“It could still be one of the employees of the construction company. If Stephen bragged about his perfect family to the wrong person, it could have triggered something.”

You hummed in agreement, but Spencer could see there was more on your mind. He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

“As I got older, I learned that blaming others wasn’t going to make me feel any better about my situation. It’s like the unsub hasn’t realized that yet. The way he executed this crime—it’s almost like a child throwing a tantrum. He was so meticulous in setting everything up, and then once he got what he wanted, he just… walked away. There was no care for the aftermath, no consideration of what would happen afterward.”

“Do you think the unsub could still be a child?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Your mind clicked, and for the first time, the puzzle pieces seemed to fit together. “How old was the kid when he was put into foster care?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Eight. Why?” Spencer's confusion was evident.

“It’s been ten years since that house caught fire. That would make him eighteen now, and—"

Spencer’s eyes widened as realization struck. “And that he just got out of foster care.”

"Exactly," you said, rolling out of bed and storming downstairs.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Spencer called after you, quickly grabbing his cardigan from the chair in the corner of the room before hurrying to catch up.

“Be quiet, I don’t want to wake anyone.” You instructed, feeling Spencer’s presence behind you as you moved toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” he hissed in a whisper as you opened Garcia’s laptop on the table. You didn’t respond, your fingers already flying over the keys as you settled into a chair.

Spencer huffed, knowing full well there was no stopping you once your mind was set. He hovered behind you, draping the cardigan over your shoulders. “I’m not covering for you if Garcia finds out,” he warned, glancing over your shoulder at the screen.

“That’s fine. I know exactly what to say to win her over,” you said nonchalantly, clicking away. In your mind, the image of Spencer in the shower was still vivid—a story you could easily use to distract Penelope if it came to that.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you found the file. “Here it is,” you muttered, eyes scanning the information on Christopher Eriksen. You clicked to open it fully, Spencer already reading ahead of you.

“They found bruises all over his body when he was put into foster care,” he read aloud, his voice tense as the words sank in.

You leaned forward, your breath catching. “This is it,” you murmured. “His parents— they must’ve bought into that ‘perfect family’ image of the neighborhood, but behind closed doors, they were hiding this. Can you imagine what it must’ve been like for him? Everyone thinking his parents were saints, while they were hurting him? All the while, they’re the ones who get a memorial bench, their lives celebrated while they tortured him.”

“It was on Christmas that he was put into foster care. Now, it’s the first Christmas since he’s been out. It makes sense to go back to the place where it all started,” Spencer concluded.

“I need to go there,” you said urgently, slamming the laptop shut.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Spencer asked, bewildered. He immediately followed you as you rushed to the door, still in your pajamas. “You’re not seriously planning on going out like that?”

“It’s just a quick peek. I need to see if I was right about the bench,” you said, almost to yourself, already focused on the task ahead. You didn’t even glance behind you as you pulled on your shoes and yanked open the front door, wrapping Spencer’s cardigan tighter around yourself to ward off the cold.

In moments like these, Spencer knew exactly who had trained you. You were unmistakably like Gideon—determined, single-minded, and often impulsive once your mind was set. And that, in turn, always left Spencer in a state of mild panic.

“You can’t drive at night,” he said, his voice rising with concern as he followed you into the snow-covered yard. “You have nyctalopia!”

You didn’t stop, your focus unwavering. “You should take night-blindness seriously, it takes forever for your pupils to dilate, and by that time, you’ve already missed the stop sign or, I don’t know, hit a pothole or something. Your contrast sensitivity goes down, so objects blend into the background, and—did I mention the glare from headlights? Because that’s a huge problem, and it makes it worse! You’re already having trouble seeing, and now the glare from every car that passes is just blinding you. It's like trying to navigate in a fog, but it’s just light fog, which—okay, that’s a really bad analogy, but you get the point!”

His words fell into the background as you continued walking, your mind fully occupied with proving your theory. The case had been driving you mad. If you could just confirm that the bench was broken—that Christopher was the one who’d done it in a moment of anger—everything would click. The case would be solved. You’d give the Reynolds family peace. And, selfishly, you’d give yourself peace.

“Please,” Spencer begged, now standing in front of the car door, blocking your path. “If you’re going, at least let me drive.”

His comment made you halt in front of the car. “You hate driving,” you pointed out.

“I’d rather be uncomfortable for a few minutes than risk something happening to you,” he admitted.

You stared at him, feeling a surge of gratitude for how much he cared, how he believed your theory and was willing to go along with you. 

You reached out and took his hands. It was a gesture he rarely tolerated from anyone, but you’d learned over the years that Spencer appreciated it when it came from you. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Thanks, Spence,” you said softly, the words simple but your voice full of appreciation.

He swallowed, his eyes softening as he nodded. “We’ll just take a quick look, right?”

“I swear,” you promised, a reassuring smile tugging at your lips. “Just a quick look.”

He sighed, still clearly uneasy but unwilling to argue. You handed him the car keys and moved to the passenger side, sliding into the seat. 

—————

Spencer slowed the car as you neared the familiar area, the headlights casting long shadows over the snowy driveway.

"Let’s stop the car here," you suggested. The thought crossed your mind just in time—it would be very inappropriate to drive into a quiet neighborhood with an unknown car at this hour, especially after a murder had taken place.

You and Spencer stepped out of the car, the cold biting at your skin as you walked side by side. You stayed close to him, partly to keep warm, partly to follow his tracks through the snow, the dark pressing in around you. The Christmas lights that had lit up the neighborhood earlier were now off, leaving everything shrouded in an eerie quiet.

You made your way to the bench. Your hand skimmed over the smooth wood, lingering on the top right corner where you felt a distinct break—something sharp and jagged where a piece had clearly been broken off. You exhaled in relief. You were right.

Spencer’s hand shot out to gently grab your wrist, his fingers warm against the cold night air. "Careful," he said, his voice low but insistent. "You don’t want splinters. Stay here, I’ll grab a flashlight from the car."

You nodded, watching as his footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the thick darkness around you.

Alone now, you scanned the area. Everything was still and silent, save for the occasional crunch of snow beneath your feet. Your eyes were drawn to a dim light flickering from inside the rebuilt house where the Eriksens used to live, just past the bench. Curiosity nudged you forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, your feet were already moving toward the light.

You crept closer to the window, standing on your toes to peer inside. The house was barely furnished, still very much in the process of being worked on before it could be sold. You pressed your hands against the cold glass, forming makeshift goggles with your fingers, your face just inches away from the window as you tried to get a better look.

A sudden pressure on your stomach snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could react, an arm tightened around your waist, yanking you away from the glass. For a brief moment you thought Spencer was playing some kind of prank, trying to startle you—but the movement was so fast and forceful, you knew Spencer would never grab you that aggressively.

Your gasp caught in your throat, immediately silenced as a cold, rough hand clamped over your mouth. Panic surged, but your body went stiff when the sharp edge of a knife pressed to your throat. You didn’t need any further confirmation that this was the unsub.

"I don’t know who you are," the voice rasped, low and dangerous, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. "But you shouldn’t have shown up here."

The tension in his voice was unmistakable. You could feel his rage, his plan disrupted by your unexpected presence. Every instinct screamed at you to fight back, but you remained frozen, knowing that one wrong move could end it all.

“I didn’t plan on killing anyone innocent, but you’ve put yourself in this situation,” he spat, his grip tightening on the knife.

In that fleeting moment, you made a decision. Taking a leap of faith, you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his palm. The sudden bite startled him, and by sheer luck, he loosened his grip on the weapon.

“Christopher!” You shouted, the name ringing out with urgency.

It was enough to catch him off guard. In that instant, you turned, quickly positioning yourself with a better angle. He was taller than you—still, just a boy, consumed by something far beyond his control. His pain was evident, lurking beneath the fury in his eyes. You knew this wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Who are you?” His voice was strained, the words gripping with suspicion and confusion.

“I’m here to help you,” you said sincerely, keeping your voice steady.

“No, you’re not,” he denied.

“I swear I am. I know what happened to you. I know what your parents did to you.”

Without warning, he shoved you hard against the house. Your head slammed into the window, a sharp pain exploding in your skull. “You don’t know anything!” he screamed.

“I do, Christopher. I do!” The words came from a place of desperation, your breath ragged. “I understand. I know how much this eats at you, how alone you feel because you’re the only one who knows the truth. But it doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. The truth will come out. People will know what your parents did, what really happened here. You’ll get what you want, the world will see that they’re not perfect.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something soft, vulnerable. 

“They all knew what happened!” He said in anger, pointing at the houses surrounding you. “They all knew and no one said anything!” He shook his head, “I’ll never get what I want. It’s too late for that.” he muttered bitterly.

Despite his words, you felt a flicker of hope. He was talking. He was listening. That had to count for something.

“It’s not too late, Christopher,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I thought the same thing once. But family… family isn’t just the people you’re born to. You can build your own, one that will love you despite everything. I’ve got that family now.”

He swallowed hard, his face momentarily flickering with doubt. “I wish I could believe you,” he said, his voice quiet, tinged with regret.

And then, in a flash, his arm shot out. Instinctively, you braced yourself, squeezing your eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable strike.

As the seconds stretched on, memories—both regrets and cherished moments—flashed before your eyes, a cruel reminder of everything you had to lose.

But then, a loud thud echoed in the night. Christopher crumpled to the ground, his body going limp. You whipped your head up, heart in throat, and saw Spencer standing behind him, the butt of his gun covered in blood, the impact of the blow knocking Christopher out cold. 

A shaky breath escaped you, half a sob, half a gasp of relief. You stumbled toward Spencer, your legs nearly giving out as you threw yourself into his arms. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried into his chest, voice cracking. “I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have—”

He shushed you softly, brushing a hand through your hair as he held you close. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Twenty minutes later, the team and the police arrived. Spencer had called Hotch the second you’d calmed down enough, and by the time they got there, Christopher was still passed out. The officers dragged him into the back of their car, while JJ and Prentiss took it upon themselves to reassure the neighbors that they had someone in custody.

You knew exactly what was coming when Hotch finally made his way over to you and Spencer, but your head was pounding too much to care.

Hotch scanned the two of you with a sharp, disapproving look. “Really? You went to catch an unsub in your pajamas?”

“The whole ‘catching the unsub’ thing wasn’t exactly part of the plan,” you muttered, wincing slightly as the headache flared.

Hotch exhaled sharply, then turned to Spencer, his gaze a little more pointed. “I could’ve expected this from her, but I expected better from you, Reid.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, knowing there was no defense. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Hotch gave a sigh in response, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’m too tired to deal with the two of you right now. I expect to see both of you in my office in the morning.”

“Actually, I checked all the rooms in the cabin, and there’s no office. Which is surprising, considering—”

“Spence,” you interrupted him with a nudge of your elbow.

He shot you a tight-lipped look, turning back to Hotch. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

—————

The second you closed the car door behind you and buckled your seatbelt, you passed out. You’d always slept best during car rides, and especially now, with your mind much quieter now that Christopher Eriksen wasn’t your problem anymore.

When you finally arrived back at the cabin, you were still sound asleep. Derek told Spencer to wake you, but he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he carefully made his way to your side of the car, unbuckling your seatbelt. He lifted you into his arms, trying not to huff too loudly as he carried you through the thick snow. He made his way up the stairs quickly, hoping Penelope wouldn’t notice the wet tracks from his boots inside the house—he couldn’t take them off while holding you.

He was glad you were in your pajamas as he gently laid you on the bed. He walked over to the closet, grabbing some extra blankets and draping them over you, hoping it would help you regain some warmth.

Then, he crawled into bed beside you. Closer than he would’ve dared if you were awake, not quite touching, but close enough to share body heat. His gaze lingered on you, watching how peaceful you looked. The night had been a lot to handle, but he knew he’d do it all again if it meant keeping you safe.

The bright light reflected off the snow outside, filtering into the room. Groaning, you rubbed your eyes, the movement only making your headache worse. You huffed and carefully opened your eyes, being met with the sight of Spencer. His hair was a curly mess, and a small, warm smile painted his face.

“Hey, how’s your head?” he asked softly.

The events of last night rushed back to you, and you groaned again. “So, all of that really happened?”

“It did,” Spencer confirmed.

“I really hoped I just got drunk on too much Glühwein,” you sighed, wincing at the thought.

“You can still do that tonight,” he teased.

“No,” you muttered in disgust. “I need to recover from this first.”

You glanced over at him again, seeing the concern still shining in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for putting you in that situation last night,” you said quietly. “Everything about it was just... stupid.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on going, who knows who else he could’ve hurt,” Spencer pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.” You thought about it for a second, the weight lifting slightly. “Still, I shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

“I’m glad I went with you,” Spencer said, his voice softening. “If I hadn’t... I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened to you. I would never forgive myself if I wouldn’t have been there in time.”

You gave a heavy sigh, turning your gaze to the ceiling. “That’s why it’s probably best we stay friends,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. Despite Emily’s pep talk, this was proof that it wouldn’t be wise to start something serious with Spencer.

“Friends instead of what?” Spencer asked, his voice higher, as if eager to hear the answer.

“Instead of us dating,” you said, almost offhandedly, not realizing you were speaking aloud about something you’d never discussed before, even though the topic would come up eventually.

Spencer froze, his eyes wide, hope flickering in them as he looked at you. “You would date me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You froze too, catching up with the fact that you had said that out loud. Your cheeks warmed, and you immediately turned your gaze to the ceiling, not daring to look at his expression.

“Uh—hypothetically,” you stammered, scrambling to cover your tracks.

“You would hypothetically date me?”

You swallowed, still too flustered to look at him. “Yes. If... you would, I mean. If you wanted that, too...?”

Spencer was silent for a beat, his gaze never leaving you. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes,” you answered, your voice steady despite the racing thoughts in your head.

He slowly moved closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You flinched back instinctively, and he immediately withdrew his hand, his expression apologetic.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your heart beating faster.

“You said you’d want to date me,” he murmured, his voice unsure.

“Yes, but—” you stopped yourself as the realization hit that he was planning to kiss you. “Oh.”

Tentatively, you reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. You leaned in a little, but this time it was him who pulled back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Kissing you.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, his tongue darting over his lips. “Okay.”

You smiled softly, then closed the distance, your lips gently pressing to his.

Spencer hummed in satisfaction, both of you staying like that for a moment, neither of you wanting to pull away. You were the first to break the kiss, catching your breath. If it were up to Spencer, he’d keep his lips on yours forever.

Your eyes fluttered open, faces still inches apart. Spencer cupped your face and pulled you back in, placing several soft pecks on your lips before he leaned on his arm, slightly hovering over you as he deepened the kiss.

You tried to mirror his movements, but a sharp pain shot through your skull. “Ouch,” you hissed, pulling back.

“Just lay down, let me take care of you,” Spencer assured, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. You slowly lower yourself onto your back, the soft sheets crinkling beneath you, and Spencer moves above you, the blankets still covering both of you.

His lips found yours again. He kept them slightly parted, giving you the chance to slide your tongue against his. The world outside seemed to disappear as you melted into each other, lips moving in sync.

The kisses become more heated, each one a little deeper than the last. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, the other hand resting on your side, his touch sending little sparks of warmth wherever it brushed.

You could feel the heat between you growing. “I’m so warm…” you mumbled against his lips. 

His eyes darkened slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was rough as his fingers lightly trailed over the buttons of your pyjama shirt. “Do you want me to take this off?”

You nodded, and he slowly started undoing each button with purposeful care. His gaze flickering between your eyes and the exposed skin. He let out a moan when your shirt finally fell open, his eyes taking you in. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out in awe, before pressing his lips to yours again. 

You responded eagerly, your hands fumbling between your bodies to undo his shirt in the same way. You slid the fabric off his shoulders, letting your hands run over the muscles of his back, feeling the heat of his skin. 

He gently pressed his body weight down on you, and you shuddered at the feeling of your nipples pressing against his bare chest.

His lips delicately kissed your face, until he reached your ear. He nipped at your lobe, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “Do you like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You answered in a soft moan, your body arching into him. He didn’t need to ask again; he could tell you were enjoying this as much as he was.

His lips slid lower, kissing and sucking on your neck, while his hand slid down to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles.

His mouth moved to your collarbone, and then he teasingly dipped lower.

“God, Spence,” you softly moaned as he placed a wet kiss on your lower stomach. “That feels so good.”

His hand, which has been resting on your breast, trails down until it reaches the waistband of your pyjama pants.

“More, please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips instinctively. His fingers slide around the band as he slowly pulls them down, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

He lowers himself onto his stomach on the mattress. With a tender touch, he lifts your legs over his shoulders.

“Is this okay?”

For a moment, you’ve lost yourself in his gaze—those warm brown eyes looking up at you, his pink lips swollen from his kisses…

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond, nodding.

You moaned as his mouth made contact with your inner thighs, his tongue warm and wet against your skin. He took his time, kissing his way to the sensitive spot where you needed him most.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice shaky with need.

The anticipation was unbearable as his hot breath tickled you, but you didn’t have to wait much longer. Slowly, his tongue flicked over your pussy, and you gasped, your body trembling at the touch.

He moaned in response, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his tongue swirling in soft, teasing motions that had your hips lifting off the bed in search of more. 

“So fucking sweet,” he muttered against you, before repeating the motion, licking you again and again, while he grinded himself against the matress.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer, deeper, your body quivering as he continued. He alternated between sucking and licking your clit, his finger moving up and down your pussy until it entered you gently, then slowly adding another, the stretch an overwhelming pleasure. 

You gasped his name, your body writhing beneath him as the pressure built with every move. “Spencer… please, don’t stop…” you begged, voice thick with need.

His fingers curled inside you, pressing just the right spot as his tongue continued swirling around you. Your legs started trembling as you reached the edge.

“I’m—“ you gasped, but the words dissolved into a string of moans as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your legs were shaking as you came undone, clenching around his fingers, your hips bucking against his mouth. 

Spencer didn’t stop, though. He kept going at a gentle pace, letting you ride out the intensity of your orgasm. Then, he slowly pulled away, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, eyes wide and full of wonder. 

“Was that good?” he asked softly, licking his lips. 

You laughed breathlessly as you nodded, your chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Come here,” you whispered seductively, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him. You could taste yourself on his lips, which only added to your arousal.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with desire, his forehead pressed to yours. “I need you. I need to be inside of you.”

You nodded, moving your hand down his body, feeling the hardness of him against your palm. He helped you pull his pants down, and you stroked him gently, feeling him twitch in your hand before guiding him toward your entrance. He let out a low groan, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pushed into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, his hips stuttering as he filled you completely. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his thrusts grew deeper, more urgent.

You could feel every inch of him, every movement as his cock repeatedly hit those places inside that made your head spin. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, your moans mixing with his ragged breaths.

“You’re so warm,” Spencer whimpered. “So perfect for me.” 

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging into his skin as you urged him on, your body moving with his. His pace quickened, and you couldn’t hold back the desperate cries that escaped you. 

“Spencer… I’m so close,” you gasped.

“Me too,” he moaned, his hips slamming into yours. “Let me come with you. Please, let me come with you.”

You nodded, your body trembling. “Now, Spencer…” you begged in a breathless plea.

His breath hitched, his body tensing as he gave one last deep thrust, and then, with a loud, guttural moan, he came inside you. You followed a moment later, your body clenching around him as you fell apart. 

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths, the sound of two bodies, tangled in a quiet, shared moment of bliss. Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as he took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“That was… perfect,” he whispered, his voice full of awe.

You smiled softly as you placed your head on his chest, fingers lazily tracing his stomach. “Yeah,” you said in a breath, your heart full of him. “It really was.”

You let out a soft groan as Spencer stood up, and you instinctively reached for his hand, pulling him back toward you. “Don’t go yet,” you pouted.

Spencer smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, wrapping a blanket around his waist before walking to the corner of the room. He rummaged through his bag, his back turned to you for a moment as you blatantly checked him out.

“I miss you,” you murmured, leaning back into the pillows.

He chuckled softly, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not even five feet away from you.”

You shrugged, your voice a little teasing. “Still feels like you're miles away.”

With a smile, he walked back toward you, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hands behind his back. “Which hand?” he playfully asked.

“Left,” you replied without hesitation.

He swiftly shifted the small box he’d been holding from his right hand to his left, then grinned, revealing the gift. “Here you go.”

You blinked in surprise. “That was your present?” you asked, your voice filled with wonder as you recognized the familiar wrapping Garcia had handed you the day before.

Spencer nodded, watching you closely. “Yeah. Open it.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you unwrapped the gift, your heart racing with excitement. Beneath the paper was a velvet black jewelry box. You glanced up at Spencer, your eyes searching his for reassurance. He gave a soft nod, his smile encouraging.

With a gentle flick of your fingers, you opened the box—and there, nestled inside, was the most stunning heart-shaped locket you’d ever seen.

“Oh my God, Spencer,” you breathed, your voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

A shy smile tugged at Spencer’s lips as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. “It used to be my mom’s,” he said. “She doesn’t wear jewelry much anymore, but she wanted me to keep it... to give it to someone special one day.”

Your heart melted at the thought, and you looked at him with newfound tenderness, the weight of his gesture sinking in. 

“She was happy when I told her I wanted to give it to you,” he added, his eyes soft with sincerity.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Your mom knows about me?”

Spencer nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I tell her pretty much everything. She likes hearing about you most.”

“Why?” You curiously asked.

Spencer's smile deepened, and he looked down at his lap for a moment, as though gathering courage. When he looked up at you again, his eyes were soft, full of love.

“Because you make me happy.”

After your intimate moment with Spencer, the inevitable conversation with Hotch had to happen. Just before the talk, Hotch received a call from the lab confirming the DNA found on the Reynolds matched Christopher Eriksen’s—meaning the bittersweet news of Christopher going to prison.

“I still don’t get how the two smartest people on the team act like half a brain when they’re together,” Hotch had said with a half-smile, glancing at you and Spencer. “But… you did good work.”

—————

Later that morning, Emily spotted you, her eyes immediately drawn to the locket around your neck. “Fancy,” she commented, her smirk growing as she cocked an eyebrow. “Where did that come from?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you absently played with the necklace, a soft smile on your lips. “It’s Spencer’s. He gave it to me.”

Emily’s smirk turned into a knowing smile, and you could see the proud glint in her eyes. “You two are something else.”

—————

Throughout the day you and Spencer did your own thing, trying to act casual in front of the team—yet every time his hand brushed your back or he leaned in for a quick kiss in the empty hallway, your heart fluttered. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at him as he played chess with Rossi, your eyes catching his in those fleeting moments.

You felt Spencer’s presence behind you like a familiar warmth as you stood in the kitchen. He slipped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be such a romantic?” you mused, running your fingers through his hair, the feeling of him against you enough to make your heart race.

His lips hummed against your skin. “It’s your fault,” he stated, his voice thick with affection. “You drive me crazy.”

You tugged him up the stairs to your shared room, pushing him playfully onto the bed. You stood between his legs as you began to slowly peel away your clothes, revealing the red laced lingerie set Derek had gifted you during Secret Santa.

“Never thought I’d be thanking Derek for gifting you this,” Spencer mused, his hands sliding up and down your legs, a smirk displayed on his lips.

You smiled, tracing his jaw with your thumb, the heat between you growing. “What do you think of checking out the hot tub?” you purred.

He swallowed nervously, his eyes flicking down to his lap. You rolled your eyes as you responded in a sigh, “You can choose the temperature.”

Before you could say another word, he scooped you up, lifting you over his shoulder with a playful slap to your ass. You yelped, giggling as he carried you off toward the bathroom.

—————

The cabin was large, but unfortunately not big enough to avoid Garcia, so you knew what was coming when you heard the familiar sound of her heels clicking against the hallway floor. She was heading straight toward you, her finger pointing accusingly at you.

“I slept with Spencer.” you hurriedly spilled out before she could say something.

She stopped in her tracks. Her face went through a thousand different expressions in the blink of an eye—confusion, disbelief, excitement—before she finally let out a high-pitched squeal. “You... you slept with Spencer?”

“Twice,” you giddily answered, the smile creeping across your face before you could stop it.

Garcia’s expression finally broke into a huge grin, and without missing a beat, she grabbed your hands and started bouncing on the spot. “Derek is gonna lose his mind!”

You barely had time to protest before she was already up the stairs.

As the end of the day drew near, the group gathered around the fire pit in the backyard, cocoa mugs in hand, the warmth of the flames casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces. 

“Are you sure your phone is on silent?” Garcia asked Hotch, eyeing him with suspicion.

“I’m sure, Garcia,” Hotch replied with a small smile.

She was satisfied, her focus shifting to Rossi. “The honor is yours. You may present the last Secret Santa gift.”

Rossi cleared his throat, glancing around awkwardly. “Now, this might sound like a cheap excuse for forgetting to buy a present…” Laughter rippled through the group, and Garcia shot him an offended look. “But... I think I can speak for all of us when I say the best gift is us being together in this beautiful location.”

He turned to Hotch, his voice genuine. “Aaron, you’ve built a good team here. A good family. You should be proud.”

Hotch’s smile softened, his eyes briefly glancing over the group, the weight of the moment settling on him. “I am. Thank you, David.”

And for the first time, you didn’t question whether you deserved a place in this loving, dysfunctional family—you knew you belonged.

[foxesscramble]

in honor of the holidays here's some foxes and co going home for the holidays (set sometime in the future)

Somewhere in Wisconsin:

Matt Boyd just won his last game before their winter break officially started.

Dan and Matt make their rounds to say goodbye to everyone as the team dispersed to various cities.

They head out and grab a taxi, making a quick stop by their house to grab their luggage.

They’re headed home for the holidays.

Back to where their family was gathering.

Back to South Carolina.

They were unbelievably excited to see everyone.

They had a secret that they were finally telling the foxes when they got them all together.

Dan cradled her growing belly

Somewhere in Colorado:

Renee compiled a list of care advice for her neighbor who is petsitting for her while she’s in South Carolina.

It’s a hefty list and Renee is once again grateful for her kind, elderly neighbor who had volunteered herself immediately after hearing Renee was going to be traveling.

She made her rounds saying goodbye to all her pets before grabbing her suitcase and keys and heading to the door.

She sent a text to Allison to let her know she was about to hit the road.

Text sent she said one last goodbye at the door before locking up behind her.

South Carolina, here we come.

Somewhere in New York:

Allison carefully packed her clothes into her bag.

Had she possibly packed too much for her two-week trip? Probably, but she hasn’t seen anyone in a while, and she likes to look good.

Allison checked her phone for the time before grabbing her suitcases and putting them by the door.

She did one last walk-through to make sure she didn’t forget anything before turning all her lights off and grabbing her luggage.

She closed the door and locked it before making her way out of her apartment. 

She sent a text to Renee to let her know she was leaving and got in her car.

Somewhere in Germany:

“Nicky, Liebling, if you don’t get your ass down here we’re going to miss our flight!” 

Nicky swears as he collects his bags in a hurry, his feet pounding down the stairs of his and Erik’s apartment.

Germany had done Nicky a lot of good but he was undeniably excited to head back to the States.

Back to his family.

“I’m ready! I swear!” 

Erik laughed and herded him out the door.

They made it through the security check with 15 minutes to get to their boarding area.

They laughed as they ran through the airport, their luggage flipping and bumping into the back of their legs.

They were the last people on the plane, but they made it.

Nicky was going home.

Somewhere in California:

Kevin lugs both suitcases into the trunk of his car before he helps Amalia into the back seat and gets her buckled into her car seat.

They were driving all the way to South Carolina because Amalia had recently become deathly afraid of planes.

Settling in for the two-day drive, they'd barely made it 30 minutes into the trip before Amalia determined it had been a long time and it was time for snacks.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer to all things holy, Kevin pulled into a gas station to get snacks and have a bathroom break.

He knew the drive would be rough but 'Grandpa Coach' and 'Gran Abby', as Amalia had taken to calling her grandparents (maybe Kevin should have stopped calling them by name), would be more than willing to take Amalia when they got home.

Amalia spent the rest of the 36 hour drive rotating between excitably talking about seeing her aunts and uncles, singing the entire Frozen soundtrack at the top of her little 4 year old lungs, and sleeping.

Somewhere between Kansas and South Carolina:

"If you touch the stereo one more time, Josten, you're losing your hand."

Hands held over the console.

Hand kisses.

Smoke breaks.

Lots of snack breaks.

Neil gets fruit cups and Andrew gets candy.

Their cats joined them for the trip.

Sir sits in Neil's lap the entire ride but King gets the zoomies every 30 miles.

Andrew has to repeatedly remove him from his feet so he stops getting close to the pedals.

They call Bee halfway through the drive to make sure she’ll be there when they get there. She and Andrew chat while Neil takes a bathroom break.

When Neil comes back Andrew’s frame has relaxed a bit further. 

They were both excited to see everyone but that didn’t take away the anxiety of having that big of a group together again.

But the foxes were family and they couldn’t wait to see their family.

Somewhere in North Carolina:

"Okay, and you packed the girls' blankets?"

Katelyn and Aaron may resemble headless chickens trying to get their 13 month old twins together and ready.

Katelyn has been tasked with the girls' things and Aaron has been tasked with actually getting the girls in the car.

One of the twins is passed out in their car seat and the other is sobbing and throwing a fit.

Aaron is trying to calm her down and Katelyn is driving.

It took about an hour to get her to stop crying and when she did Aaron took a deep breath and fell back in his seat.

He rested his head back and closed his eyes, letting the quiet sounds of the road soothe him.

That calmness lasts for a good minute before Katelyn lets out a loud, FUCK!

"I forgot our suitcase!"

Somewhere in South Carolina:

Abby fluffs the decorative pillow for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. 

She’s already vacuumed and swept every room in their house. She’s gotten all the spare bedrooms ready and taken out all of the blowup mattresses. Most of the kids were staying with them with the exception of those that had kids.

They hadn’t all been together in so long and it felt imperative that the house looked good for everyone.

Wymack came up behind her and gently took the pillow from her hands before setting it back on the couch.

“The place looks amazing, Abby.” 

Abby turned around and shot him a doubtful look.

Wymack laughed roughly and leaned forward to place a careful kiss to her forehead. 

“They’re just going to be happy to be here. I don’t think they’d care if it looked like a pigsty in here. Everything is okay, and you know why?” 

Abby leaned her weight against Wymack’s chest. “Why?”

Wymack pulled back slightly so he could send her a fond smile.

“Our kids are coming home."

[scoupsakakitty]

Misunderstanding | idol!Vernon x reader | angst,fluff

The members were scattered around their hotel suite, relaxing after their final U.S. tour performance. Mingyu was stretched out on the couch, munching on snacks, while Jeonghan leaned back in a chair with a smug look on his face. Vernon, however, sat quietly, staring at his phone.

“Vernon, you’ve been looking at your phone for, like, an hour,” Seungkwan pointed out, throwing a pillow at him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Y/N,” Vernon muttered, catching the pillow but not looking up.

That immediately got the attention of the room.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “What about her? You two seemed fine last time you talked.”

“She’s ignoring me,” Vernon admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been texting and calling, and she hasn’t replied. I don’t know what I did.”

“Maybe you did something without realizing it,” Seungkwan said, leaning forward with interest.

“Or maybe she’s overthinking something and waiting for you to fix it,” Jeonghan added with a grin.

“I didn’t do anything,” Vernon insisted. “At least, I don’t think I did. Everything was fine two days ago.”

“Girls don’t just start ignoring you for no reason,” Jeonghan teased. “Trust me, I know.”

“Just call her and find out,” Joshua suggested.

“Yeah, call her now,” Seungkwan agreed, then smirked. “And put it on speaker so we can hear.”

“What? No,” Vernon said, frowning.

“Come on,” Mingyu chimed in, laughing. “We’re trying to help. If you get stuck, we can tell you what to say.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Vernon muttered, but he relented, dialing her number and switching the phone to speaker. “If this goes badly, I’m blaming all of you.”

The members immediately leaned in, some trying to stifle laughter as the phone began to ring.

———————————————————————————

Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling through her phone. Her stomach churned as she saw the photo of Vernon and the girl yet again laughing together, looking like they were sharing a private moment. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Vernon’s name flash across the screen.

She let it ring a few times before answering, her tone sharp. “What do you want?”

The members collectively winced at her cold tone. Mingyu mouthed, This is bad.

“Y/N,” Vernon said cautiously. “Why have you been ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Seriously, Vernon?” Y/N snapped, her voice icy. “You don’t know?”

Vernon glanced nervously at the members. Jeonghan gestured for him to keep talking.

“No, I don’t know,” Vernon said honestly.

“Unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Maybe it’s because this—whatever this is—clearly doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Joshua widened his eyes, silently mouthing, Ouch.

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asked, his tone edging toward frustration. “Of course, it means something to me.”

“Oh, does it?” Y/N snapped. “Because it sure doesn’t feel that way. You know what? Forget it. Go hang out with your other girls or whatever.”

The room fell completely silent, every member frozen in place.

“Other girls?” Vernon repeated, bewildered. “What are you talking about? There are no other girls.”

“Right,” Y/N said bitterly. “Not that it matters. We’re not even official, right? You don’t owe me an explanation.”

The words hit Vernon like a punch in the gut. He stared at the phone, momentarily speechless.

Seungkwan broke the silence, whispering loudly, “Say something!”

“Y/N,” Vernon said, his voice softer now. “Why are you saying this? What’s really going on?”

Y/N hesitated, her anger flickering. But instead of explaining, she shook her head. “Goodnight, Vernon.”

She hung up before he could respond.

The room was silent for a beat before Jeonghan whistled low. “That was… rough.”

“What does she mean by ‘other girls’?” Mingyu asked.

“I don’t know,” Vernon said, staring at his phone. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Well, whatever it is, she’s clearly upset about something,” Joshua said. “You need to figure out what it is before this gets worse.”

———————————————————————————

The airport was bustling as the members prepared to board their flight back to Korea. Vernon was quieter than usual, still turning the conversation over in his mind.

“Hey, Hansol,” Wonwoo said, walking over to him with his phone in hand. “You need to see this.”

Vernon frowned as Wonwoo handed him the phone. On the screen was a picture of him and a girl standing outside. The girl was looking up at him, laughing, while Vernon appeared to be smiling at something she said.

“That’s what Y/N must’ve seen,” Wonwoo explained. “My girlfriend just sent it to me. Apparently, it’s all over Twitter.”

Vernon’s stomach sank. “This is what she was talking about?”

“Probably,” Wonwoo said. “It looks bad out of context. If I didn’t know you, I’d assume it was a date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Vernon said firmly. “She was just a fan. She asked for an autograph, and I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Well, you need to explain that to Y/N,” Wonwoo said.

———————————————————————————

Y/N wasn’t expecting a knock at her door, and she definitely wasn’t expecting Vernon. When she opened the door, her breath caught.

“Vernon? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” he said, stepping inside.

She crossed her arms defensively. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.”

“Y/N,” Vernon said, his voice firm. “I know why you’re upset. It’s because of that picture, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t respond.

“The one of me and that girl,” he continued. “She was just a fan. She asked for an autograph, and I didn’t want to be rude. That’s all it was.”

“You’re serious?” Y/N asked hesitantly.

“Of course, I’m serious,” he said, his tone softening. “I didn’t even know the picture existed until this morning. If I’d known, I would’ve explained everything sooner.”

Her anger began to waver, replaced by guilt. “I just… I saw the picture, and I thought…”

“I get it,” Vernon said gently. “I would’ve felt the same way if it were you.”

Y/N looked down, her voice small. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Vernon said. “I hate that this made you feel like you don’t mean anything to me. Because you do.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “I do?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “And about what you said on the phone… you’re right. We’re not official. But I want us to be.”

Her breath caught. “You… what?”

“I want to make it official,” he said, stepping closer. Slowly, he reached up, gently tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he held her gaze. “No more guessing, no more misunderstandings. I want to be with you, Y/N. For real.”

Her lips parted slightly, her emotions written all over her face. Tears welled in her eyes as her heart pounded. She nodded, a soft smile breaking through. “Okay. Let’s make it official.”

Relief and happiness washed over Vernon’s face as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. The world seemed to fade away in that moment.

As they pulled back from the embrace, Vernon leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “I’m so glad I have you,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth.

Y/N closed her eyes, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “Me too,” she whispered.

———————————————————————————

[griddleharker]

Mel's trauma/experiences in season 2 are easily overlooked/forgotten due to how fast paced the season is, to how she handles herself and due to misogyny.

I wish I could say it's easy to forget how difficult what she went through was, but it really is not. The intro itself makes it very clear.

She survived an explosion, got attacked, was abducted, saw her friend die right before her eyes, thrown into a pit, made to believe a family member she mourned was alive, had to 'kill' the thing wearing the skin of her brother, learned shocking informations about her mother and was lead to two conflicting thoughts about her: 1, she is a child of a love affair, a product of love, her mother loves her too much and it is why she was cast away, 2 she is a weapon, everything down to her conception was calculated, it was never love but a thirst for power.

She breaks free of imprisonment, awakens as a mage due to almost dying and immediately gets a proposition from someone of a higher power/knowledge. She has no more means of defense, and she has to throw her lot with the person who killed her brother and who's chasing after her mother. I am not saying she was never swayed by Leblanc's words nor that she didn't believe her, but it was coercion rather than agreement.

She was gone for MONTHS, just like Jayce. She lived through hell for these few months and came to a terrible conclusion, just like Jayce. She's finally back to Piltover, and she goes to see him first, before anything else. She worries about him, she's happy to see him. She seeks comfort within him, just like he did with her several times through both seasons. He refuses her this comfort, instead attacks her and demands her to answer for a crime that is indirectly hers. She protects him anyway when it was needed.

He apologizes to her and, arguably, breaks up with her then. She goes to see her mother afterward, ready to leave it all behind and betray her new found 'family' as Leblanc said if her mother simply agreed to. If her mother simply chose her this time. But she doesn't. She needs more than Mel. What she needs goes against everything Mel stands for. She walks away.

She then helps to fight her mother, and is the direct cause for her death. Her mother finally sees her in her last moments, she finally has no choice but to look at her daughter, who's no longer a helpless little girl but a strong, powerful and insightful woman. She still forces her into the mold she made for her, a wolf. It's a compliment really. But is it really one for Mel? Her mother dies in her arms. They never could fix their relationship. Her mother committed so many unspeakable deeds, yet she still loves her, yet she still mourns her.

She has to take over her now. She can't openly mourn her, nor show her grief. And she has no one close to her she can be vulnerable with left. She is more alone at the end of season 2 than ever and has to take on more responsibilities than she deems herself worthy of. She said that she's not up to the Medarda's name, and is shown so often to feel insecure because of it. But now she has to be up to it and she doesn't get a choice.

Through reaching the 'Medarda's standards', she lost everything else. And she didn't get a choice.

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter ten ♡

Summary: You open the door to Joel, preparing yourself to hear what he has to say. WC: 9.9k A/N: Helloooooo! Wishing you all happy holidays! I hope your holiday season was wonderful, and that you enjoy reading this part. Be patient <3 I def enjoyed writing it lol Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications! love u all

“I... I know you probably don't wanna see me,” he said, his voice low, almost strained, his eyes dark and heavy with something blue, looking at you with controlled desperation. “But I... I... can we talk? Please?”

Your eyes blinked rapidly, lashes brushing against your skin in quick, involuntary flutters. Joel caught the movement immediately. Of course he did. He noticed everything about you, even now, even after everything. It was obvious he had startled you, but whether that made him feel vindicated or more like an intruder, he couldn’t tell.

The week had been hell. He had been hell. Work was relentless, a grind of demands and decisions that seemed designed to erode what little patience he had left. Coming home wasn’t much better—Sarah’s teenage tolerance for him was wearing thin, and he knew it. Her exasperated sighs, her eyerolls, the way she barely looked up when he walked in the door.

The last time you’d spoken, your voice had been steady, measured, almost clinical, which somehow made it worse. “I think you should go,” you’d said, calm and certain, slicing through the rising heat of his anger like a blade. “I just... I just need some time.”

Anger had only been the surface. Underneath, he was wrecked. Broken in a way that felt unfamiliar, even compared to the times he thought he’d been hurt before. While you spoke, his mind had fixated on Travis—his stupid smirking face, the condescending edge to his voice. It was all Joel could see, all he could hear, drowning out everything else.

He’d slammed the door of his house that day and told himself he was done. He wasn’t going to call, wasn’t going to show up, wasn’t going to see you again. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He told himself he was done. Done with you, done with all of it.

You won’t see her again. You don’t want to see her again. The resolve felt like armor at first, solid and impenetrable. But later, as he sat in the dark of his room, it hollowed out, echoing back every memory of you he couldn’t seem to let go of.

And now here he was, standing in front of you, stripped of any armor he thought he had. He told himself he looked calm, his posture straight, his face neutral. But his hands betrayed him, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, his fingers curling and uncurling like they didn’t know what else to do.

“Joel,” you said finally, and it wasn’t anger in your voice. He heard that right away, though what it was instead, he couldn’t quite name. “Need somethin'?”

The coldness of your tone startled him more than he wanted to admit. Not anger. Indifference. He recognized it only because it was unfamiliar coming from you.

“Yeah,” he said, too quickly, the word tumbling out before he had time to second-guess it. “Yes. I... I need to talk to you. Please, can we talk?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Your question was measured, but it wasn’t an invitation. He felt his lips twitch into an awkward half-smile, the kind you used to find endearing in its clumsiness. Now it only seemed to widen the space between you. You both knew the answer; you were just making him say it.

“About everything,” he said, stepping closer without thinking. The movement was automatic, but the way you took a step back wasn’t. It hit him like a sudden ache, sharp and lingering. “My birthday. What happened after. Travis. Everything I said to you, everything I did.”

“I don’t wanna fight, Joel.”

“Neither do I,” he said quickly, his voice soft. “I ain't here to fight. I swear. Please, just... give me a minute. If you don’t wanna hear me after this, I’ll—��� He hesitated, his throat tight. “I’ll respect that.”

Your head tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible motion. “You’ll leave me alone?”

The words landed hard. He felt it, like a stone dropping into his chest.

“If that’s what you want,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, his gaze locked on yours. “If that’s what you really want, then yeah. I’ll leave you alone.”

You shifted to the side, a subtle movement that opened a narrow space between your body and the doorframe. Joel hesitated for just a moment before stepping through, his eyes flicking to your face as his arm brushed lightly against yours. The contact was fleeting, accidental, but it sent a strange charge through him that he couldn’t quite ignore.

As he walked past, he inhaled deeply, letting the scent of your home wash over him. It was grounding, like stepping into a memory he hadn’t realized he was carrying. The air was thick with the comforting notes he associated with you—freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint, clean sweetness of the textile spray you spritzed religiously on the couch cushions. Beneath that lingered the softer, subtler scents: the warm floral of your fabric softener, the trace of your favorite perfume still clinging to your skin, and something else he couldn’t quite name but had always recognized as distinctly you.

It was the same scent that used to cling to his shirt after one of your hugs, when his nose would inevitably dip into the curve of your neck without thinking. The thought of it now hit him like a whisper of nostalgia, equal parts tender and bittersweet.

Joel’s gaze swept the living room as he entered, and he paused, taking in the familiar organized chaos. Two mugs, each half-full, sat abandoned on the coffee table. Next to them lay the crinkled remnants of half-finished snacks. Soft blankets were strewn across the couch, their folds still marked with the shapes of bodies that had recently lounged there. Two candles flickered on the mantel, filling the air with the warm, tropical scent of coconut and vanilla. On the floor, two pairs of slippers rested haphazardly, as if their owners had kicked them off mid-laughter.

The first pair was purple, dotted with little blue hearts—Cassie’s, he assumed. The other pair he recognized instantly. The white pom-pom slippers, soft and well-loved, and he could still picture the Christmas he’d given them to you. You’d hurt your foot a week earlier, and he’d insisted you needed something sturdy to wear around the house. At the time, you’d rolled your eyes at the practicality of the gift but had smiled when you slipped them on anyway. After that, he gave you his other gift: the complete box set of Nightmare on Elm Street. 

Now, seeing them here, Joel felt a tightness in his chest, a painful warmth that spread through him as he took in the scene. This mess, this lived-in disarray, was evidence of you. Evidence of life. And he missed it.

For weeks now, his own home had been the opposite—too quiet, too clean. No lingering smells of scented candles, no forgotten mugs on the table. Sarah had been retreating to her room more and more, and the spaces she used to fill with her presence now felt hollow. The house smelled of little more than coffee, and the silence stretched long and thin, oppressive in its stillness.

“Have a seat,” you said, your voice cutting through his thoughts. “Want some coffee? Cassie made a pot before she left.”

Joel didn’t want a tidy house. He didn’t want a quiet living room. He didn’t want the emptiness that had taken root in his home.

He wanted noise. He wanted laughter echoing through the halls, the kind that erupted out of nowhere and carried long after the joke had ended. He wanted his living room cluttered with the evidence of conversations and evenings spent together. He wanted his house to smell like candles, fresh bread from the oven—burnt edges and all—and your perfume lingering in the air. He wanted the warmth of Sarah and Tommy and you, all of you there together, filling the house with life again.

“Sure,” he replied, watching as you moved past him toward the kitchen. His eyes followed the curve of your shoulder, the way the light caught in your hair, until you disappeared through the door.

He sat down on the couch, his hands resting on his thighs as his gaze landed on the coffee table. A book lay there, its spine tilted just enough for him to read the title: Jane Eyre. His fingers reached for it instinctively, brushing over the cover as memories flickered to life. Two years ago, you had insisted he watch the movie with you. He’d been indifferent at first, grumbling about how slow it was, but by the end, he’d found himself blinking furiously, swiping at the tears that kept slipping past his guard. You and Sarah hadn’t let him live it down, teasing him gently once the lights came back on.

A quiet laugh nearly escaped him at the memory, but it faded as you reappeared, two mugs balanced carefully in your hands. You set them down on the table and took the seat across from him.

Joel reached for his mug immediately, grateful for something to do with his hands. He lifted it to his lips, the warmth spreading through his palms as he took a sip. The coffee was strong and slightly sweet, the taste familiar and comforting. But as he lowered the cup, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting back to you, watching as you settled in place.

You sat next to him, the cushion between you a quiet, unspoken boundary neither of you seemed willing to cross. Your arms rested on your lap, fingers absently tracing patterns on your knee, while your eyes fixed on him—watching, waiting. He wasn’t looking at you, not yet. His gaze was locked on the mug in his hands, the coffee inside long forgotten, as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this conversation.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and taut, until finally, he broke it.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what to say to you,” he began, his voice steady but low. He didn’t look up, still focused on the mug. “How to say it, what order to put it in so I wouldn’t just… trip over myself and make it worse.”

You said nothing, your eyes trailing across his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.

“And even after all that thinkin', there doesn’t seem to be an ideal way to do this,” he continued, his fingers tightening around the ceramic. “But I think… I think the first thing I gotta say is that I’m sorry.” He paused, swallowed, then lifted his eyes to yours. They were heavy with something raw. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze, refusing to give him an inch.

“What’s everything?”

You already knew. Of course, you knew. But you needed him to say it, needed to hear the words from his mouth.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “For not being enough. For not living up to what you needed. For being a coward.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on. “I’ve been afraid—terrified, actually—and I hate myself for it.”

Your tone was sharper than you intended. “Afraid of what?”

“Of making a mistake. Of ruining things.” His gaze dropped back to his hands, his lower lip trembling in a way that made something inside you twist painfully.

“You already ruined things, Joel. You already blew it.”

At that, he looked up, his face pale, his expression something close to stricken.

“I know,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. “I know I did. But… I was hurt.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You were hurt?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rising just a touch, a hint of frustration there. “Last time we talked, at my place, we said things… things that stuck in my head and twisted ‘round ‘til I couldn’t think straight. And then Travis—he blindsided me. He said things I wasn’t ready to hear, and before I knew it, I was just… angry. Angry and too stubborn to think if any of it even made sense.”

“You could have asked me about it,” you said, leaning forward slightly, your voice tight with restrained anger. “It would have been that simple. All you had to do was ask.”

Joel shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“You say it like it’s easy. Like it’s that black and white. But it wasn’t. I couldn’t think straight. My head was full of these awful, painful thoughts, and I didn’t know if I could face the answer. I didn’t know if I wanted to face it. What if you told me it was true?”

“What if I told you it was true?” you repeated, incredulous, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. “Joel, it’s me. Not some stranger off the street. It’s me. Why is it so fucking hard for you to talk to me?”

“'Cause it’s you!” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he finally set the mug down, turning fully toward you. “You’re not just anyone, don’t you get that? You’ve never been just anyone. You’re you, and that’s why it scared me so much. That’s why it’s always scared me.”

You stared at him, your hand brushing against your neck as you tried to process his words.

“What does that even mean?” you asked, your voice quiet but loaded with frustration. “I’m me, but you treat me like I’m a stranger. You accuse me of things I would never do. How does that make sense?”

“It doesn't make sense, I know,” he said, his voice soft now, filled with remorse. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have—”

You cut him off, leaning closer, your tone sharp and unforgiving.

“I talked to Travis, Joel. He told me everything. He told me what he said to you—that he implied we’d slept together that night.” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you steadied it. “And it was a lie. He lied to you. And you didn’t even stop to think. You didn’t come to me. You just believed him.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice a little stronger this time, though his eyes dropped to the floor. “I know it was a lie. I know that now.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “How?”

He met your eyes, and for the first time that evening, there was something solid in his expression, something that felt like conviction.

“Travis confessed to me. Earlier today.”

You blinked, stunned, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

“He came to my house this morning.” He paused, glancing at his hands like they might steady him. “When I saw him, I wanted to beat him to a pulp. I thought about it—what it’d feel like, what it’d fix. But he looked… pathetic. Like a wet dog. And I don’t know why, but I listened to him.” He exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into a fist on his thigh. “He confessed everything. Said it was all a lie. That he was angry that night, that he wanted to hurt me, hurt you, us. And that he was sorry.”

That morning, before Joel had even finished his first cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all Travis, who stood on the porch looking like he’d rehearsed this moment a dozen times but still wasn’t ready. There was a tension to his posture—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders squared but uneven, like he couldn’t decide between defiance and regret.

Joel opened the door without a word, his eyes narrowing slightly, the kind of look that made most people hesitate. But Travis didn’t flinch. He cleared his throat, glanced briefly over Joel’s shoulder as though confirming they were alone, and began. His confession was brief but clear.

Joel stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his silence heavy and deliberate. Anger started to build in him, slow and deliberate, like water simmering in a pot. If he’d been alone, he might’ve said something sharp or done something rash—just enough to make Travis rethink ever stepping foot here again. But Sarah was at the dining table, half-hidden behind a glass of orange juice, listening to every word. It was too early in the day for things to escalate, and besides, Joel knew better.

“I don’t know you, Joel,” he said, voice low but firm. He kept his gaze on Joel, unblinking, but his body angled slightly away, as if ready to retreat if things got ugly. “And I don’t claim to know the whole story between you two. Don’t know all the details, don’t pretend to.” He exhaled sharply, a trace of frustration slipping through. “But I know enough to say this—she doesn’t deserve what you’ve done to her. Not a damn bit of it.”

Joel’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he stayed silent, his arms crossed in front of him like a barrier.

Travis shifted again, this time squaring his shoulders, his voice growing firmer.

“Whether you deserve her or not... that ain’t my call to make.” He shook his head, almost as if he pitied Joel. “But, just be enough. Stop lookin’ for ways to screw it up. Fix it. Make it right.”

The last words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Travis glanced back at Joel one final time before stepping off the porch, his body already half-turned away, as if to signal the conversation was over.

Joel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He stayed there, rooted to the spot, as Travis turned and walked away without looking back. When the door finally closed, Joel exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before heading back to the kitchen.

Sarah was seated at the table, her cereal soggy in its bowl, her chin propped up on one hand as she watched him. Her expression was impossible to read at first—calm, maybe even detached—but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes, the kind that always made Joel brace himself.

He dropped into the chair across from her, rubbing a hand across his face.

“So,” she began, her voice light but measured, “are you gonna tell me what that was about, or should I start guessing? Because I can go wild with it if you want.”

Joel looked at her, his mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile despite himself. “You don’t need to guess anything, Sarah. Eat your breakfast.”

She raised an eyebrow, letting the silence hang for a beat. Then she switched tactics.

"You have the afternoon off today, don't you?”

"Yeah."

“Can I spend the afternoon with Irina?” she asked then, her tone casual, like the question had been waiting for its moment to pounce. 

Joel eyed her suspiciously, leaning back in his chair. “Why do I get the feeling this is part of a larger plan?”

“Because it is,” Sarah said brightly, sitting up straighter. “But also because you’re smart, and I’m obviously your favorite child, so you’re always on high alert.”

Joel snorted. “You’re my only child.”

“Exactly,” she said, pointing at him with her spoon. “See how much you have to lose if you say no?”

“Fine,” Joel said, shaking his head. “But be home for dinner.”

“Can I stay over?” she asked immediately, her tone hopeful but strategic, like she was carefully laying pieces on a chessboard.

“Sarah—”

“Tomorrow’s saturday,” she interrupted, grinning now. “And besides, you could use some alone time. Don’t you think? You know, kick back, put your feet up, maybe even watch a movie. Something fun, preferably. You’ve been way too broody lately—it’s not good for your skin.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “My skin is fine, thank you very much.”

“I’m just saying,” she said, widening her eyes for emphasis. “Take a self-care moment. Relax. Settle your affairs. And let’s be honest—at some point, you’re gonna have to get used to me bein’ gone. In a few years, I’ll be outta the house anyway. Might as well start now.”

Joel chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. “You’re thirteen, sweetheart. You’re not leavin’ anytime soon.”

“Thirteen and a half,” she corrected. “Which means I’m practically halfway to twenty. Time flies, man. Better get used to it.”

He shook his head, a smile breaking through despite his best efforts.

Joel shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle.  “ Come back for dinner,” he said firmly. “And finish your breakfast, smartass. We’re running late.”

Relief fluttered through you, but it didn’t stay long enough to root itself. Instead, anger rose, sharp and unyielding, burning through your chest like fire.  

“So that’s why you’re here,” you said, your voice cutting through the air between you. “Because Travis decided to clear his conscience? What if he hadn’t? What then, Joel? Would you have hated me for the rest of your life without even asking me about it?”  

“No,” he said quickly, his posture straightening as if bracing for impact. “Of course not. I wanted to come and talk to you before—”  

“How can I be sure of that?” you interrupted, leaning forward slightly, your voice cold and unwavering.  

His face shifted, his desperation barely masked. His eyes moved over your features, searching for something—an opening, a shred of forgiveness, anything to grasp onto. It was the look of someone teetering on the edge of losing what mattered most. And seeing him like that, so vulnerable and raw, sent a sharp pang through your chest.  

But you didn’t move. You didn’t let him off that easily.  

Joel sighed heavily, the sound thick with frustration and resignation. He looked back down at his hands, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the conversation was pressing him into the couch. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. You watched him wrestle with his thoughts, his jaw tightening and loosening, his fingers twitching slightly.  

Finally, he opened his mouth, but no words came. He shut it again, his brow furrowing, his expression pained. He looked like he was trying to pull something out of himself that refused to surface. Then, with a deep breath, he ran a hand over his forehead, his fingers brushing through his hair before he finally lifted his gaze to meet yours again.  

His cheeks were flushed, the color spreading to his neck, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter but startlingly clear.  

“You could do the worst atrocities in the world to me, and I’d still come crawling back to you,” he said, his words landing heavily in the space between you.  

You blinked, stunned, your anger momentarily eclipsed by his confession.  

“I’d take it all,” he continued, his voice steady despite the emotion rippling just beneath the surface. “Every insult, every blow. At first, I’d probably bark back—like some angry dog—but it wouldn’t matter. I’d still come back to you. Over and over again. Until you decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore. And even then…” His voice faltered slightly, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer to you. “Even then, I’d wait. I’d wait for you like some stupid, loyal, domesticated animal.”  

His hand fell lightly onto your knee, the weight of it grounding and electric all at once. His face was closer now, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.  

You stared at him, speechless, his words circling in your mind, unfamiliar and disarming. You had never heard him talk like this before, never heard him articulate his feelings with such painful honesty.  

Confusion flickered across your face, your brows knitting together as you tried to process what he’d said. But before you could respond, Joel pulled his hand back, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was reluctant to let go.  

He sat back, his hand running along his jawline, his thumb brushing against his stubble in an attempt to soothe himself. His eyes shifted away from you, staring somewhere into the distance as he collected himself.  

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant, but still carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t said yet. His eyes stayed fixed on some invisible point in front of him, his expression thoughtful and distant.  

“I’m a lucky man,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching in a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Though for a long time, I thought life had it out for me.”  

The confession lingered in the room for a moment before he continued, his voice lower now, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.  

“When I was a teenager, I had all these goals, y'know? Dreams that seemed so big and endless back then. And then every single one of 'em became impossible the moment Amelia told me she was pregnant.” He laughed softly, though it wasn’t a happy sound. It carried the weight of years gone by, of opportunities lost. “It took me a while to make peace with that. To accept that everything I thought my life would be was just… gone. My responsibilities changed overnight, and I wasn’t ready. Not even close.”  

You stayed quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he spoke, unwilling to break the flow of his words.  

“It was hard,” he admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture of discomfort. “Harder than I could’ve imagined. But then Sarah was born.” His voice softened when he said her name, a reverence in the way he spoke of her. “And everything changed. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore—not the dreams I lost, not the plans I’d made. Because I had her. She was all I needed to be happy, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.”  

There was a pause, a stillness that filled the space as he collected his thoughts. His hands, resting on his knees, clasped together tightly, his knuckles turning white.  

“And then Amelia left,” he said, his voice dropping lower, his jaw tightening as though the memory itself was still too sharp. “When she walked away, I thought I wouldn’t survive it. I wanted to die. The only thing that kept me going was Sarah. She was my strength, my reason to keep breathing. And Tommy,” he added with a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “even if he gave me more headaches than I could count.”  

His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Those years were… suffocating. I was drowning, trying to stay afloat for Sarah’s sake. I worked every hour I could, even when it wasn’t enough. And I tried so damn hard to keep her from noticing. She was just a baby, too little to understand, but I noticed. I noticed every empty space, every moment we didn’t have what we should’ve.”  

Joel paused, his fingers fiddling with an invisible thread on his jeans, his voice turning steadier as he continued.  

“Everything I did was for her,” he said, his tone resolute. “Everything I still do is for her. I didn’t care if I wore the same worn-out shoes for years, as long as she had everything she needed. I didn’t care about working overtime, as long as she had a good christmas, with all the things she’d ever dreamed of.”  

A soft smile crept onto his face, faint but genuine. “And then things got better. I started making more money. I was able to move us into a nicer place, give her her own room with everything she wanted—books, toys, a million stuffed animals. Seeing her happy was all I needed. Nothing else mattered. My own dreams, my own goals—they didn’t even exist anymore. I didn’t have room for them. All I cared about was her.”  

He exhaled shakily, his hands now clenched together, his shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying a weight he hadn’t quite managed to set down.  

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. His words settled into you, heavy and aching. Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. You knew Joel was a good father—better than most. But hearing him lay it bare like this, recounting the sacrifices he made and the pain he endured, broke something inside you.  

He looked down, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“I had no desires of my own,” he admitted, his words halting, “until I met you.”  

Your breath hitched at his confession, your gaze dropping to your hands, folded tightly in your lap.  

Joel shifted in his seat, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours. He was waiting, searching your face for a reaction. When you finally looked up, your vision blurred, a single tear slipping down your cheek.  

“And then you moved in next to me,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And I became the luckiest man in the world. Because that night, on your birthday, I saw it. I felt it, clear as day, in your eyes.” His voice wavered slightly. “Did you feel it too?”  

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”  

Joel’s gaze flickered between yours, searching, probing for even the faintest shadow of doubt. But he found none. Your answer had left no room for uncertainty, and the truth of it settled visibly in his chest. For a moment, his eyes dropped to his hands, fidgeting restlessly in his lap. The reprieve was brief; his gaze snapped back to yours almost immediately, as if afraid to lose the fragile connection.  

“You took me completely by surprise,” he began, his voice low and unsteady. “I had this quiet, organized life. Everything was in its place, everything predictable. And then you came along, and suddenly I was thinking about futures I’d never allowed myself to imagine before. Futures where my purpose wasn’t just being a dad, where there was… more.”

His lips pressed together, and he glanced past your shoulder, unable to hold your gaze for long under the weight of his admission. “I tried to act on it. I wanted to. I told myself I’d tell you how I felt, ask you out properly, but I was terrified. You were such an easy part of our lives, mine and Sarah’s, that the idea of risking that, of losing you…” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as though frustrated with himself. “I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t.”  

His eyes returned to you, a mixture of resignation and determination clouding their depths. “So I swallowed it all. All these years, I’ve done everything I could to be the friend you deserved. To not let my feelings interfere. But if I’m being honest…” He paused, his jaw tightening as though bracing for impact. “I’d take anything from you. I’d come back to you every fucking time, no matter what. Because the thought of living without you—” He stopped abruptly, his voice catching in his throat.  

Joel exhaled sharply, attempting to recover, and then a faint, self-deprecating humor colored his expression.

“I know how pathetic I sound right now,” he said, his voice lighter but no less sincere. “I don’t care.”  

“Yeah, Joel, that’s pretty damn pathetic,” you replied, your lips curving into a soft, fleeting smile. There wasn’t much humor in it, but it was enough to ease some of the tension between you.  

Joel chuckled faintly, shaking his head as though chastising himself. He glanced down at the floor, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I know,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’ve been feeling pretty pathetic lately.”  

“Me too,” you admitted quietly, your voice tinged with an exhaustion that mirrored his.  

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but weighted. Joel’s hands stilled, resting loosely against his knees, though you could tell he was still grappling with everything he’d laid bare. You studied him in that moment—every slight movement, every shift in his expression—trying to parse the tangle of thoughts in your own mind.  

For Joel, the quiet was a reminder of how vulnerable he’d been. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach, a lump rising in his throat that he fought to suppress. The fear of baring himself so fully gnawed at him, but it didn’t terrify him as much as losing you did.  

“I don’t regret that night,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, though his eyes remained fixed on the floor. “But I hate how it happened. I hate that our first night together came out of a fight. A fight where I was…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Terrible to you. That’s not how it should have been.”  

“Oh, God. Stop that,” you cut in sharply, your tone carrying the faintest edge of irritation. You leaned forward, placing your hand firmly on his knee. “I’m tired of hearing you say the same thing over and over. Things are the way they are. Nothing more.”  

His head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together in confusion and disbelief. His lips parted, as if he wanted to argue, but no words came immediately.  

“I get it, okay?” he said eventually, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I fucking blew it. Look where we are now. Years of keeping my feelings bottled up—for what?”  

You shook your head and pulled your hand away from his knee, covering your face as frustration bubbled to the surface. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your cheeks felt hot, and bitterness churned in your chest.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with the idea of being more than my friend?” you asked, your voice trembling, broken and laced with helplessness. “If we had never argued, we never would have slept together, and then what? You would have spent your whole life being just that—my friend?”

Joel’s face contorted, a mix of anguish and confusion. “It’s not that, I... I...” He faltered, his words tumbling over themselves as his gaze flickered between his hands and your face, desperate to find the right thing to say. “Relationships are complicated, you know that. No matter how hard you try, sometimes things just... break. Feelings get messy, people hurt each other, and then it’s over. And after that? You’re left with the wreckage, picking up the pieces, trying to put them back together, and... starting over. And I want to be wi—”

“I’m not Amelia!”

Your voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and unrelenting. Joel froze. His body went still, his eyes wide as he watched you rise from your seat, your palms pressing against your face to catch the tears that spilled freely now. A sob broke through your chest, raw and guttural, shaking your whole body.

Joel stood abruptly, closing the space between you with long, purposeful strides. He reached out, his large hands settling gently on your shoulders, trying to ground you, to pull you closer to him. But you resisted, your body tense and unyielding beneath his touch.

You dragged your hands down from your face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and an expression so pained that Joel felt an ache bloom in his chest. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, as he took in the sight of you.

“Why do you have to make everything harder?” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of desperation. Your words fell between you, sharp and piercing. “I know what happened to you was horrible, Joel. I know. I can’t imagine how alone you must have felt. It hurts—God, it hurts—to think of you going through that. I wish I could go back in time and change it, spare you all that suffering, but I can’t.”

Your voice broke again, and you shook your head, gripping his arms tightly as if trying to anchor yourself. “I can’t change it, and neither can you.”

“I know, baby,” Joel said softly, his voice almost breaking. “I don’t—”

“No!” you interrupted, your hands squeezing his arms harder. “You know nothing! You don’t listen to me. You’re scared—this, us, it terrifies you because it makes you feel weak and vulnerable, and you hate that. I know you do, because I know you. I know you like the back of my hand, just like I know myself."

Your voice rose, thick with emotion, trembling but unwavering. “You’ve spent years building everything you have, brick by brick, because you know how fragile it all is. You know how quickly it can fall apart. And yes, it’s true—that’s life. That’s how it works.”

Joel tried to interrupt, but you pressed on, your words pouring out like a dam had broken. “But I’m not Amelia, Joel. I’m not going to leave when things get hard. I’m not going to disappear. Just look at me—look at me right now. This has been hell since your birthday, absolute hell, and yet I’m still here. I’m standing in front of you, listening to you, when maybe—probably—you don’t even fucking deserve it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and his hands slipped from your shoulders to your elbows, holding onto you as if afraid you might disappear. His eyes glistened, his lips slightly parted as he took in your words. For a moment, the room was silent except for the uneven sounds of your breathing.

“I know,” Joel said abruptly, his words choking out in a way that made his chest tighten, like he was barely able to get them out at all. “I’ve been a coward all this time, but—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me the same thing again,” you cut him off, shaking your head in frustration, taking a small step back, your space suddenly feeling more necessary than ever. “Yeah, real—”

“Can you stop interrupting me and just listen?” he snapped, his voice sharp, the calm restraint in it fraying just a little as he stepped closer, his hands landing gently on your shoulders, grounding himself in the movement.

He stared down at your feet, his gaze lingering there, not meeting your eyes, the words heavy in the space between you. In that moment, he felt desperate, like the situation was slipping through his fingers again, but somehow, there was a strange sense of vulnerability in his posture, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but forward.

His hands fell away from your shoulders, but he didn’t move, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours, his gaze unwavering and intense. It felt like there were a thousand unsaid things in the air, and still, he said nothing for a long beat, his mouth opening, then closing again as if he couldn’t quite gather the words.

“Everything you said is true,” he started, his voice quieter now, but carrying a weight in it that felt both final and irreversible. “And everything I told you is true. And I don’t care, not anymore. I’m done with it.” He moved his hand across the space between you, as though trying to sweep away the past, drawing an invisible line through the tension that had hung over both of you for too long.

You let out a slow breath, the question hanging in the air before you could voice it. “And what does that even mean?”

“It means that I want you, that I love you,” Joel started, his voice breaking slightly on the words, the confession so raw it felt like it was tearing him open from the inside. “That I need you. That I can’t… I can't help but resent a life without you.” He took a shuddering breath, his eyes burning, not quite able to meet yours. “I always thought I was fine on my own. I’ve been alone most of my life, you know that. I never needed anyone. I never thought I was missing anything, never felt incomplete. I felt perfectly fine alone.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, were now trembling, fingers curling and uncurling as if trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself from shattering.  

“And then I met you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to say the words aloud. “And I realized how empty I’d been. How much I’d been missing. How full I felt when I was with you.” He paused, his face contorting as if the weight of his own words was too much to carry. “And then I screwed up. I messed it all up.” His hands balled into fists at his sides. “And no, I’m not that cold. I’m not some heartless bastard. I need you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything. And I can’t—” He stopped, his breath catching in his throat, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps as he struggled to control the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.  

His eyes closed for a moment, as though he could hide from the truth for just a second longer, but when they opened again, they were full of something that felt like desperation. “I can’t live another day knowing you’re just next door, and you’re uncomfortable because of what I did. Because of what I let happen. Because of how I failed you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and it was like a knife to your chest, hearing the hurt in him, seeing how much it was tearing him apart to even say it.  

“I know I probably don't deserve you,” he whispered, each word like a burden he couldn’t bear. “I know that. And if you decide not to choose me, I’ll understand. I’ll walk away. I’ll stay away. I promise you, I won’t bother you again. But if you… if you just let me, one last time...” He faltered, his voice breaking as he looked at you, his eyes dark with pain and regret. “If you let me prove to you, show you, how much I love you... the way you deserve to be loved, if you let me do it for the first time...” He shook his head, his voice catching again, barely a whisper now. “I promise I’ll never disappoint you again. I swear it.”  

There was nothing left in his voice now but the ragged edges of a man who had bled himself dry in front of you.

“Joel—” you started, but before you could finish, he cut you off, his voice calm but firm, like a man who had already said too much but was determined to say it all.

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not finished.” His voice held an edge of something deeper now, like he had reached the point of no return. “You have to understand what I’m telling you. When I told you about Amelia, when I told you how much of a coward I’ve been, when I told you about how you changed my life, when I told you I was afraid—what I meant is, that’s why it cost me so much to do all this. But now? Now, it’s all insignificant. All of it. Compared to this. Compared to you.”

Your breath caught as his words settled in the space between you, and you could feel your eyes widen, your body stiffening with an ache you couldn’t place. You watched him, his expression flickering—his eyebrows tense, his lips parted with an unreadable intensity, his eyes dark and glistening, glossed with the unmistakable trace of tears. Your stomach twisted at the sight of them, the tears there but barely contained, and you realized how long it had been since you had seen him like this. Vulnerable. So impossibly vulnerable.

He leaned in slightly, his hands rising to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing the damp skin of your cheeks, as if he could steady you both with his touch.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I always have. From the moment I saw you, I loved everything about you. Everything. The way you are. The sound of your voice. The way your face lights up when you smile. The way you move, the way you think, the way you feel. I want it all, I want it all with you. Please.”

The words hit you like a slow wave, gentle but relentless, and before you could stop them, the tears you had been fighting to keep in check broke free. They streamed down your face, hot and heavy, staining your flushed cheeks. Joel’s hands were gentle as they wiped them away, his touch tender, almost reverent as his calloused fingers traced the outline of your skin. He stared at you, as if trying to read the language of your eyes, but there was something in them he couldn’t name. It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t anger. It was something similar to doubt. Uncertainty, maybe. Something that he couldn’t fix with a touch or a word, but something that still held him captive.

“I would kneel in front of you,” he said, his voice soft but laden with a kind of desperate affection, “and beg all night if you asked me to, sunshine.”

His words had the air of a joke, but the way his lips curled into a smile—slow and warm—made something inside you tighten. Something inside you broke just a little, and you smiled in return, the gesture pulling at the corners of your mouth. The smile felt unfamiliar, like it had been so long since you had smiled for him. Really smiled, without hesitation. And when you did, the effect on him was immediate, like a light suddenly flicking on in a room that had been dark for far too long.

Joel’s breath caught at the sight of it. He looked at you as though he had been waiting for that exact moment, for that exact smile, for weeks. The smile he had missed more than he could admit.

With a quiet, almost embarrassed chuckle, he pulled his hands from your face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You stared at him, confused, as he slowly began to lower himself onto one knee, the movement slow, deliberate, as though he was going to ask something, something monumental and beg. But before he could finish the motion, you instinctively reached for him, hands gripping his sides, pulling him back up with a soft laugh.

“Joel, please,” you laughed, the sound light and disbelieving, as if you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. But in your chest, you felt a soft pressure—the weight of everything he had just said, everything he had just given to you. 

Standing before you, Joel didn’t give you a second to pull away, his hands moving with certainty, cupping your face with a tenderness that seemed almost fragile, as if he was afraid of breaking something. His fingers gently traced the contours of your skin, his gaze unwavering, like he was memorizing every detail of your face. 

“I fucking love you,” he whispered, his voice rough, the words heavy with an urgency that seemed to echo in the stillness between you. Before you could react, his lips were on yours—soft, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, and then more sure, more insistent, as he kissed you again, and then again, and again, and again. Each kiss was brief, a fleeting press of his soft lips against yours, but each one held a weight, a quiet desperation that was impossible to ignore.

Your hands rested on his chest, the steady beat of his heart under your palms grounding you in that moment, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace. You could feel the tension in him, the way his body seemed to pulse with need, and you knew—without a doubt—that he was hanging on to every second, waiting for you to say something. 

"I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out involuntarily, caught somewhere between a confession and a plea. Your lips were mere inches from his as you spoke, your breath mingling with his in the small space between your mouths. As he kissed the corner of your lips, you felt the tremble in his kiss, the way his entire body seemed to respond to the simplicity of those three words. 

Joel’s lips curved into a smile against yours, and he pulled back, just enough to watch your face. His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to memorize something invisible, something that only the two of you could understand.

“I love you too, Joel,” you said again, your voice low but steady, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing grounding you. “And I’m sorry. Truly. If I hurt you—if anything I did made you feel that way—it was never intentional. I need you to know that. Nothing that happened with Travis was ever about trying to hurt you. I’d never do that.” You paused, your fingers tightening slightly. “But I get it. I shouldn’t have let it get so messy, not after what happened between us.”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze softening even further.

“We handled this a little badly, didn’t we?” he said, his voice edged with a hint of humor, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and bright at the same time, his pupils blown wide like he was looking straight at the moon.

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I think that’s putting it lightly.”

His smile turned rueful, almost sheepish. “I’m sorry—for all of it. I mean it. Please, forgive me.”

Your hands slid upward, fingers tracing the line of his collar, then moving to the soft skin behind his ears, the place where his hair curled just slightly above his nape.

“I forgive you,” you murmured. “It’s okay. I understand. And I love you.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his—just the barest touch—before pulling back again, almost abruptly. Joel didn’t move, his eyes flicking between yours like he was searching for something more in your expression. Your fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck, anchoring you both.

“But if you ever do something like that again,” you said, your voice soft but firm, “if you ever run away from me again, Joel Miller, I swear to fucking God—”

He shook his head quickly, cutting you off. “I won’t. I promise.”

You studied him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, measuring the weight of his words. Then, as if deciding you’d had enough distance, you closed the space between you in one swift motion, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth back to yours.

This time, there was no hesitation. No shyness. No lingering doubt. Just heat and certainty, the kind that made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. Joel’s arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him until there wasn’t a millimeter of space left.

When you finally broke the kiss, his lips left yours with a soft, audible sound, one that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. You hovered for a second before kissing him again, this time opening your mouth, your tongue grazing his bottom lip. He groaned softly, a sound that vibrated from his chest to your mouth, and you smiled against him.

Somewhere in the distance, a shrill sound broke through the haze. His phone. It rang once, then twice, before falling silent again. Joel didn’t so much as flinch.

You pulled back, slightly breathless, your hands cradling the sides of his face. His lips were pink, puffy, his cheeks still flushed. His hair was mussed from your fingers, and his eyes—those impossibly dark eyes—looked at you like you were something sacred.

That man was yours.

“Cassie will be back any second,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through the locks that had fallen over his forehead.

Joel hummed, leaning in to press his lips against your neck, his mustache tickling your skin in a way that made you laugh involuntarily.

“I doubt it,” he murmured, his breath warm against you. “But we could go to my place if you wanna keep talkin'. Sarah won’t be back till dinner.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his teeth grazed your neck, gentle but deliberate, sending a ripple of warmth through you that stole whatever you were about to say.

“Talk,” you managed, half a laugh, half a protest, as his lips pressed against the spot again, and the world outside the two of you felt very far away. 

“I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he kissed a slow, soft trail up to your jaw. “I wanna do things right, without arguments or interruptions.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the weight of his intention, and for a moment, it felt like everything outside of this room was suspended. Time wasn’t rushing forward anymore—it was just the two of you, existing in this space, in this perfect, quiet moment.

But just as the last word left his lips, the ringing of his phone sliced through the air, sharp and unwelcome. Joel froze for a beat, the smile on his face faltering slightly. He pulled away, reluctantly, the distance between you growing just enough for him to glance at the phone screen.

“Convenient,” he muttered, his voice holding a note of dry humor, but the amusement quickly faded as he saw the caller ID. His brow furrowed, and he answered with a steadying breath, bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

You watched him, the way his posture stiffened, his focus sharpening as he listened. His brows furrowed deeply, his eyes narrowing. Your hand, which had been resting on his chest, stilled as you saw the shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw.

He stepped back slightly, as if distancing himself from the moment, his hand gripping the phone tighter as his voice lowered, more urgent now. “Which hospital?” he asked, his words clipped. “Okay, okay, I’m on my way. Tell her I’m on my way—tell her not to be scared...”

You took a step forward, instinctively, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Joel...”

His eyes flicked to you, a flicker of panic crossing his features, but he quickly masked it. He stood straighter, listening intently, his body still but tense. “I... uh,” he hesitated, his gaze meeting yours, the weight of the moment sinking in. “I’ll be right there.”

The words hung in the air, and just as quickly as the connection was made, it was severed. He snapped the phone shut, his breath shaky as he shoved it into his pocket. His face had gone pale, the usual warmth drained from his expression.

“Irina’s mother is at the hospital with Sarah,” he said, his voice thick with worry. He ran a hand through his hair, the movement absent, almost frantic, as he turned toward the door, his steps hurried. You followed him, your heart now thumping in your chest, your mind spinning with the new reality of the situation.

“What happened?” The question left your mouth, but it felt cold, distant, as if the words hadn’t quite reached you. Your heart raced, the quiet stillness in your chest now replaced by a frantic pulse. “Is she okay?”

“She fell out of the treehouse,” he said, his voice breaking for a moment as he spoke, a touch of guilt in his words. “I... I...” He trailed off, unsure of what to say, his words tangled in the chaos of his thoughts.

Without another word, you grabbed your coat from the rack by the door, your fingers shaking as you pulled it on. Without thinking, you moved toward him, your hand pressing gently but firmly against his lower back, urging him forward.

“Come on,” you said, the urgency in your voice pulling him out of his fog. “I’ll drive.”