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gojonanami · 1 year ago

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THREE'S A CROWD - SATORU GOJO AND SUGURU GETO

✴︎ summary: professors satoru gojo and suguru geto rarely wanted the same thing at the same time -- that was until you. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, professor au, gojo is a physics prof and geto is a ethics prof, competition style smut, so much smut, handjobs (f!+m! receiving), oral (f!+m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dom! + sub!gojo, dom!geto, degradation (whore), praise kink (gojo + reader), semi public sex, office sex, double penetration, pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby, pretty) ✴︎ wc: 12,596 (again what's wrong with me)

There was little Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto did actually compete over — growing up as best friends, most would have expected a little healthy competition, and there were disagreements, arguments, and even a few fist-fights here and there, but there weren’t many things both desired at the same time.

Until you.

A new professor at Jujutsu Tech University, you were fairly green, but your reputation as an academic had preceded you, and landed you a position at this prestigious university. And right in the crosshairs of these two best friends who also happened to hold positions there — ones who were surely some of the most coveted on campus amongst faculty and students alike. There were little times where you would find one professor without the other outside of the classroom — Professor Gojo had even somehow annoyed Chancellor Yaga into having his office next door to Geto’s.

Professor Gojo taught Intro to Physics as well as a few other related courses, including one about the infinite nature of the universe, while Professor Geto busied himself with teaching Introduction to Ethics, and other related courses, including one that was solely based around the trolley problem.

“The trolley problem?” you asked, sitting in Geto’’s classroom, hanging around his desk, as he was beginning to clean the board of his notes from the class you had sat in on — a part of the mentoring program at the university for newly burgeoning professors — giving a sense of camaraderie and community. Right now, all it was giving you was an understanding of why there was an influx of women interested in ethics. Geto had his jet black locks tied into a neat bun, a lock hanging loose that framed his face — one that you had both the urge tuck back into his bun, but also twirl it between your fingers. His crisp white button up was unbuttoned a few buttons down after class, a deep ivy sweater vest thrown over it, “how can you teach an entire class on that single problem?”

“Almost any problem in ethics could be the subject of a semester-long debate, especially the trolley problem,” he chuckles, as he turns to you, placing the eraser down a moment, as he rolls up his sleeves to prevent residue from staining his shirt. His fingers expertly unbuttoned the cuffs, before carefully rolling them up, “the trolley problem has many iterations, it dissects the concept of a moral quandary to a science, creating the idea of an impossible choice with no right answer,”

“Many things in life have no right answer, but there’s always a choice to be made,” you hum, “what would be your solution to the trolley problem?”

“The fact is that there is no right answer, but there are right questions to ask and things to consider,” he shrugs, “most people don’t know truly what their answer would be in that situation — some think it would be better to sit helpless, letting fate decide, others think that they would choose the answer that saved their loved ones, and some think they would choose the answer that benefited the most people — but the way the problem can be formulated has so many iterations that almost any answer could be swayed,”

“And are you so easily swayed?” and he shrugs, pursing his lips.

“I’d like to think not,” he smiled — and you knew why so many people had crushes on him and Gojo — not only their looks, but their intelligence.

You hum at his words, still utterly more enthralled by the way his forearms looked, and judging by his raised eyebrow, he noticed, “But why an entire course about it?”

And he shrugged, as he crossed his arms, smirking as your eyes flicker back from his arms to his gaze, “It’s one of my favorite ethical dilemmas, wouldn’t you want to teach a course on your favorite subject?”

“I would simply like to learn my way around the university without having to come an hour early to account for getting lost on campus,” and he laughs, a noise that makes your heart squeeze, his lips curled in a smile — and you hide your own, happy you were the one who made him make that incredible noise, “It’s 50-50 whether or not I’ll find my car after this,”

“Well, I could help with that,” he steps forward, hands in his pockets now, thumbs visible on either side, “show you around? Show you the spots to see, what to avoid, maybe even how to stare without being obvious?” and you flush at his words, knitting your brow together to feign innocence, “nice innocent act, maybe it’d work on someone else — not on me, sweetheart,”

And you can’t stop the next question from tumbling out of your mouth, “What would work on you then?”

This was a bad idea — you had just started here two weeks ago, and here you were flirting with not only a professor, but the professor assigned to be your mentor here, one of the two professors everyone had their eyes on—you needed to stop.

Then he smirked, a wicked grin that only left you wanting more — more of that smirk, more of his words, more of him, “That’s for you to find out,” he offered you a hand, “so shall we find out?”

And find out you did—

—Find out just how skilled he was with that sharp tongue of his.

It wasn’t supposed to end up this way — the tour was innocent enough. He helped you get down a route from your parking spot to your office to your classroom, he showed you the good spots to escape for the day, the best spots around campus to eat or get a coffee or tea, and then you ended up in his office. He had offered you a drink — an expensive sake bottle that he had gotten from the chancellor for his good work.

“Satoru doesn’t drink so usually, I end up drinking alone, so this is a nice change of pace,” and you snort slightly, as he raises an eyebrow, as he pours the shots, “and what’s funny about that?” he asks, offering you a small shot glass filled with the sake that you swirled before downing. And he did the same, eyes still glued to you, a small trickle of the sake slipping out of your corner of your lips.

“Just the idea of you drinking in the office alone, it’s a little sad,” you chuckle, “do you not have many friends aside from Satoru?” as you pour yourself and him another shot, not noticing how he walks over nor how close he is.

“I’m very selective about who I spend my time with?” and your cheeks warm, and it's not from the alcohol, as his voice is low when he speaks, “and well, I’m not alone now, am I?” he looms over you, his hand resting on the arm of your chair, caging you in, his other hand reaching to rest fingers against your chin, “you’re here,”

“Geto—”

“Suguru,” he corrected, his eyes sliding over your body, “you’re not one of my students, Professor,” and heat trickles down your body at his words, as he leans down, tongue darting out to lick the trail of sake from the corner of your lips, “but it seems like I have a lot to teach you, regardless,”

You shiver at his actions, “We shouldn’t—”

“Lesson one, nothing in the code of ethics prevents any consensual relationship amongst staff members,” his lengthy fingers trace your jawline, before he kisses along it, “lesson two, there’s nothing unethical about our relationship — our mentor/mentee relationship period is ending now, and we are simply colleagues—“ his thumb drags down your plush lips, pulling at your bottom one, “for now,”

“Suguru,” and he’s leaning even closer.

“And lesson three, that I only can teach you if you return my feelings,” his lips are a centimeter away, breath warming your lips, his bangs brushing against your skin, “so the question remains, Professor, do you?”

You nod wordlessly, breath caught as your fingers brush his cheek now, “I do, please—“

And his lips curl, “Good girl,” he leans down, kissing you softly, lips parting only after a moment, and then you lean up again. He’s smiling against your lips, as his hand slides to the back of your neck, more insistent this time as you taste the sake on his mouth — and somehow it’s more sweet on his lips that it was on your tongue.

Your lips part again, a breath away, foreheads brushing, as your fingers grasp onto the soft front of his sweater to ground yourself on something, before it slides against the toned surface of his chest under all the academic wear.

“Like what you feel, Princess?” And you flush, cheeks burning as you give an almost undetectable nod, and he chuckles, “good, because so do I,”

And his head is leaning down for another kiss when there’s a knock at the door, “Yo Suguru!” And Suguru moves back, just as the door swings open, as you struggle to grasp onto any semblance of decorum, as Satoru Gojo enters.

“Don’t you know it’s good manners to wait to hear a person say ‘come in’ after you knock, Satoru?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed — his composure impressive for a man who had kissed you breathless not a minute ago.

“Huh?” Gojo glares at Suguru, lips twisted in a frown, “Haven’t I made enough progress for you? At least I started knocking,” Gojo huffs, smirk on his lips, as he glances at you now, “oh it’s the newbie,” and your gaze slides up to his, a polite smile on your lips, and you almost feel like his cerulean gaze lingers on your lips a moment too long, his gaze sliding back to his best friend, “am I interrupting?”

Satoru Gojo stood framed in the doorway, and he was picturesque — an academic’s wet dream in his blue button up with navy suit coat slung over his shoulders.

“Only a celebratory welcome and end to our mentoring period,” Suguru shrugs, sliding a smile behind Gojo’s back when Gojo turns back to you, “would you like to join us? We were just having some sake,”

He grimaces, “Doesn’t sound like much of a celebration,” he looks to you, sly grin playing on his lips, “she looks like she’d much prefer something sweet, isn’t that right?”

You blink, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind,” and Gojo winks, offering you his hand, your view of Suguru’s scowl obscured.

“Sounds like the lady has spoken — there’s a great place that sells kikufuku not far from campus—“

“We actually have plans for dinner, Satoru,” Suguru cuts in, as you furrow your brow — since when? “And I think a discussion of her future and trajectory at the university is more important than enjoying sweets,”

Gojo only grins, his body grazing the side of your chair as he steps away, hands in his pockets, “Well all work and no play doesn’t sound very fun to me, does it, Professor?”

You crack a smile, “Sounds like you have the opposite philosophy, Gojo,”

“Satoru,” he corrects, his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

“Satoru,” you say and his lips curl into a grin before Suguru clasps a hand on Satoru’s shoulder.

“Don’t you have papers to grade?” And Suguru’s tone left little to be argued with, and Satoru only sighs dramatically, crossing his arms.

“Fine, fine,” he slides a last look at you, as you rise to your feet, “pleasure meeting you, we’ll have to have dessert some other time,” and he leans forward to whisper this last part in your ear, “though I think I’ll have trouble finding something as sweet as you,”

Your cheeks flush, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Suguru as Satoru leaves, and Suguru only smiles at you, “Shall we go?”

You don’t notice the slight edge to his voice, or the way his eyes slide to glare at the door, as you busy yourself gathering your things, “Since when did we have dinner plans?” You ask, your last word coming out as a squeak, as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you much too close.

“Since I wanted to spend more time with you, is that a problem?” he murmurs against the same ear whispered into, teeth grazing the soft flesh of your earlobe, and you bite your lip, sighing as his lips slide to your jaw, “well, is it?”

And you shake your head, “Never,” and he’s leading you out of his office, and you don’t notice the way his eyes narrow when his eyes narrow as he glances at Satoru’s office right next door.

~~~

“Don’t work too hard,” and your gaze snaps up to find Gojo at your office door, leaning against the door frame, “your face could freeze like that,”

“And would that be a bad thing?” you rolled your eyes, as you pulled yourself away from the stack of exams you were stuck grading since the university hadn’t bothered to assign you a T.A. yet.

He takes your reply as an invitation to come in, swinging the office door shut behind him, “No, not at all, but I’d prefer to see those pretty lips in a smile,” and your lips curl, as he adds, “plus you’ll end up looking like Suguru — a perpetual stick up his ass,”

You snort, “You two have nothing but lovely things to say about the other,” you say sarcastically, “but i guess that’s best friends for you,”

“Nah, Suguru really does have a stick up his ass — pretty sure its a requirement for all ethics professors,” he shrugs, as he opts to lean against your desk rather than sit in either of the chairs, “now, can I take you to have that dessert I mentioned before? Looks like you could use a break,” his eyes glance over the stack of exams piled upon your desk, “let me be your solace, sweetheart — the world of academia is a harsh place,”

You offer a small smile, “I’m stuck grading these exams — I have to have the grades in by tomorrow, and I still have about thirty-two to get through,”

“Don’t you have a T.A. to pass this off on?” and you shake your head, and he hums, taking out his phone, “I’ll reach out to the Chancellor for you — let him see what the hold up is. The old geezer owes me one anyway,”

“You don’t have to—”

He only continues to type, without looking up, “I want to,” and before sending off his email, “should be able to get a student assigned to you soon, and I asked him to give you an extension as well, so now you have no excuse,” he grins, plucking the pen from your fingers, his fingers brushing your own, before offering his hand, “shall we?”

But there was one excuse you hadn’t exhausted yet — “Satoru—”

“You’re really making me work for it, beauty,” he rubs the back of his head, smile on his lips, “not that I don’t mind playing hard to get, but you know, I do always get what I want—”

“What about Suguru?” and his smile fades, expression unreadable.

“And what about him?” you sigh, leaning back.

“I assume you know—”

“About the fact you two have been hooking up?” he shrugs, as you flush at his bluntness, “yeah, and what about it?”

You stare at Satoru, thoroughly confused by his nonchalance, “Wouldn’t that—”

“I’ve already spoken to Suguru, he’s fine if I pursue you as well,” he smiles, as he rounds the corner of your desk to stand closer, “and that’s what this is, sweetheart — me pursuing you,”

And your cheeks grow hot, stomach flipping at his words, as your heart struggles to keep up with your mind, “So you both are okay with me seeing the other?”

His lips curl into a grin, “Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, sweetheart — me and Suguru don’t have any intention of backing off,” he tilts his head, “you’ll have to choose eventually, and I know you’ll make the right choice,”

“But—”

And he sighs, slipping his hands into his pockets, “For now, this is just a colleague welcoming another colleague to our very prestigious institution, just a friendly outing,” and you nod, rising from your seat, but he draws close, lips a breath away, “but next time, it will be a date, angel, and kikufuku won’t be the dessert I’ll want at the end of the night.”

~~~

“Suguru, should we really—” and his lips cut you off, a bruising kiss that steals the logic from your brain, and only leaves lust in its wake, your fingers moving to grasp the front of his now very creased button up. You needed to ask him about your conversation with Satoru — but all you could think about is how you could get him closer, closer, closer.

“Always taste so sweet for me,” he murmurs, his tongue slipping into your parted lips, as his fingers card through your hair, “what is that cream?” he hums, and you almost freeze — the kikufuku you had for lunch left over from your impromptu time with Satoru.

“Suguru, I need to talk to you about something,” and he’s impatient, as always, as he leads you to his lecture hall desk, pressing you against the edge of it, his legs pressed between your spread thighs.

“Talking isn’t exactly high on my priority list right now, princess,” he hums as his lips slide over your jaw, leaving wet kisses along it, before his teeth nibble and suck a mark right under your jaw, making you hiss.

“Not there, people will see—”

“People, or Satoru?” he murmurs, as you freeze as you pull back, his dark gaze lidded, but his expression inscrutable, “he told me he asked you out,”

You purse your lips, “I wanted to talk to you first to see how you felt—uhmph—” his lips smash against yours, swallowing your words and your noises eagerly, as his hands slide down your sides.

“You can see Satoru if you want, baby,” he mutters against your lips, “see him, date him, fuck him — go have your fun,” and he’s sinking to his knees in front of you, as you look down at him with red kiss ruined lips, “but don’t forget who’s the one making you feel this good,”

And he’s pushing up your skirt, pressing sweet kisses to your thighs, making them shake under his touch, as his finger presses against the wet patch on your panties, “Has he seen this yet?” and you’re too busy gasping to answer, so he only presses down meaner, rubbing you in tight circles, “answer me,”

“No, no, we haven’t even kissed—” and he’s pulling aside the crotch of your panties, air hitting your already wet pussy, “Suguru—” you’re whining already, and he only smiles in response, as his finger teases your opening, gathering your pre-cum on his fingertip.

“Should’ve known, you look fuckin’ tight, baby, gotta stretch you out, don’t I?” and a lithe finger is teasing your outer lips, before it sinks in slowly, dragging against your walls as it does, bullying your insides until it’s knuckle deep. And your fingers find their way into Suguru’s hair as he begins to fuck you in earnest, the lewd sounds of your cunt nearly echoing in the lecture hall as he thrusts his finger in and out, “hear that, baby? Your pretty pussy is practically sucking me it, won’t let me go, but I think it needs more, don’t you think?” and another finger is sinking into you, joining the other, curling and stretching against you as they piston in and out, your slick slipping down his fingers and onto his palm.

“Fuuuck, so fuckin’ wet for me, princess,” Suguru looked so gorgeous, his jet black locks pulled from their normally neat bun, strands hanging in his face, as your fingers grasped at his head, buried between your thighs on his knees, his hands splaying your thighs open on the edge of his desk, the cuffs of his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up, as two fingers sink into your dripping cunt, “so perfect, such a good girl, wonder if you taste as good as you feel,” and he’s leaning forward, his lips latching to your clit, making you cry out as he sucks harshly, “don’t be so loud, baby, want someone to see you spreading your legs for me — how’d that look?” and you gaze down at him with lust glazed over eyes, his chin glossy with your release, “all messy f’me, how could I resist?” and you’re keening against his touch, making his lips curl, “I’m starting to think you want to get caught, want people to see you cumming around my fingers, don’t you?”

You only whimper, walls traitorously clenching around him, making him let out a low groan, his hand drifting to palm at his bulge, straining against the fabric of his slacks, “g’nna feel so good around my cock, sweetheart, you’re practically throbbing,”

“Fuck,” you whimper, your thighs straining against his grip, hips nearly starting to fuck his face, as his tongue licks a strip right up your sopping cunt, “i‘m s’close, Sugu, I—” and your nails dig into his scalp, he fucks you open with his fingers and tongue, the squelch of your pussy and his fingers ringing in your ears, as you grind into his touch, just as he curls his fingers, hitting that spot that has you cumming, making a mess just as he buries his face in you, letting you ride his face as he pulls his fingers away. His fingers find your mouth making you taste your own release, stifling the moans and pants leaving your mouth, sucking and licking as he eases himself from you. Your fingers finding stability on the edge of the desk, still panting and fucked out, as he chuckles, rising to his feet, as he looms over you, looking at the cum still dripping out of you and onto the edge of his desk,

“So pretty,” he hums, before kissing you, as he helps you make yourself presentable, adjusting your underwear back into place, as your eyes drifting down between his legs, “I don’t need to ask if you like what you see because I know you do, but—”

You roll your eyes, your fingers pulling him by his belt loops between your thighs, “Don’t you want some help with that?”

And he only smiles, as he presses another sweet kiss to your lips, “We’ll save that for next time, I wanted this time to be about you,” his arm snaking around your waist, as he presses himself against you, rubbing his bulge against your sensitive cunt, making you hiss, “when’s your date with Satoru?”

You bite your lip, “Tonight, for dinner,” you admit, and he nods, a hint of jealousy that disappears as soon as it appears, before kissing you again, stealing your breath as your fingers find the back of his neck, knees nearly buckling — which doesn’t go unnoticed by him — a smile on his lips.

“Come see me after.”

~~~

“Why did you want to go out with me anyway?” you ask as Satoru walks you to your doorstep of your apartment right off campus, his hand intertwined with yours, fingers engulfing yours, thumb rubbing across the back of your hand.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he replies back with a hum, “beautiful, brilliant, funny, and you keep up — what’s there not to like?”

“You know I’m not such a sucker for sweet words that I can’t see through them,” and his lips curl into a smile, as you both stop right outside your apartment building’s door, fluorescent light buzzing above you above, the cicadas’ symphony drowning out the light chatter from people walking by, “did you only ask me out to piss off Suguru?”

“That was part of the reason,” he admits, and you tilt your head, rolling your eyes, “what?”

“Such a brilliant physics professor can be so childish — what hope is there for any of the other men?” and he laughs, cerulean eyes flashing with amusement, “then what was the rest of the reason?”

And his teeth graze over his bottom lip, as he steps closer to you, his fingers cupping your chin, “I want you, is that straightforward enough for you?” And you shiver, and he doesn’t miss your thighs squeezing together, as he leans even closer, “c’mon sweetheart, this is more than just a game, because if it was, I would have stopped after the first time seeing you,” his thumb rubs over the mark Suguru left right below your jaw and his lips curl into a grin, “that was already enough to piss Suguru off,”

“And now?”

He’s leaning even closer, breath catching in your throat, “Now I just wanna know every inch of you, sweetheart, that okay by you?”

And you’re leaning up first, lips grazing his, barely for a moment, before Satoru finds your lips again. Where Suguru’s lips were impatient and passionate — Satoru was softer and playful, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, his tongue teasing your lips apart, and a smile as he swallowed your moan eagerly. “So responsive,” he’s pulling away to stare at your swollen lips, parted beautifully for him, as he pulls on your bottom lip with his thumb, before his lips press kisses to your ear, latching onto your earlobe, teeth grazing as he sucked, “bet your other lips taste as sweet, don’t they, angel?” hot words sending heat directly to your core, as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder, “I can see why Suguru wanted to keep you for himself — such a pretty little thing, but you’re mine right now, aren’t you?”

His hands slide down down your curves, squeezing your hips teasingly, “Satoru—” and you’re glancing around at the barren streets, the quiet chatter of people could still be heard in the distance, “someone could see—”

“So?” and his lips find the mark Suguru had left, his lips closing around it and sucking, a gasp pulled from your throat, as you keen against his touch, “want them to see you all pliant for me, need them to hear you moaning my name, need you baby, need you so much that it hurts,” as the corner of his lips quirk upwards when you whimper when he sucks an even bigger mark against your collarbone, “and I think you need me too.”

Or maybe, as you pulled him inside of your apartment building, he wanted you to want him as much as he did right now.

~~~

The campus had become a battlefield, and you were the prize they were waging war for — unwittingly so, but by your own hand, as you just couldn’t choose.

But how could you?

“Suguru—” his lips found yours right outside his office, and you could taste the soba noodles he had for lunch, as his fingers threaded through your hair, his other sneaky hand slipping lower around your waist, tugging you even closer against him, “I have a class to teach,”

“Well, there’s something I wanna teach you before you go,” he rasps, as his tongue parts your lips again, tasting your own, “you can afford to keep your students waiting a minute, can’t you? You already denied me your company last night,” he grumbles, and you know he’s jealous that you didn’t stop by after your dinner with Satoru last night, but you’re having trouble finding the words to reassure him as his hand gropes your ass now, squeezing and teasing each cheek, And you don’t have enough time to react, as he’s tugging the turtle neck you had opted for, only for his eyes to narrow at the many blooming red hickies that Satoru had littered your skin with the night before, “were you hiding these?”

Your tongue ties itself into a knot, “I just—” you didn’t want Suguru to get upset — you were hoping to avoid a problem, “I didn’t want you—” And he’s pulling you back into his office, right against the door, as he’s sinking to his knees, as he’s tugging down your dress pants to your ankles, “Suguru—”

“What?” his eyes flicker up, irises dark pools of anger, “he can leave his mark, and so can I,” and his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, making you gasp, his hands holding you in place even as you lurch forward, his teeth meanly digging into your thigh, as his tongue flicks over it to soothe the ache, “taste so good, princess — I can see why Satoru couldn’t resist marking you up — maybe I should make a habit of it,” and you whimper, and his fingers press against the crotch of your underwear, teasing the wet patch, “don’t act you don’t like, sweetheart,” and he’s nosing your underwear, pressing a kiss against your aching cunt through your underwear, “I think you’re going to more than a little late to your next class, baby, better send an email, ok?”

~~~

“Where’s that mouth of yours now, Toru?” you tease, looking up at him, your knees were definitely going to have carpet burn after this, as you palmed his tented erection, before going to undo his belt and tugging his slacks down, “been wanting this haven’t you?” and he moans a little too loudly when you tug his boxers down, his leaking cock slapping against his shirt, “don’t be so loud, it’s a library after all,”

This was Satoru’s idea — because of course it was — he had grown tired of your offices and empty classrooms, and wanted a change of scenery — because apparently waiting an entire day to spend some time at home was simply out of the question. And that’s how you ended up on your knees in one of the very back of the library where very few if any ventured, in between one of the stacks that was only visible from one side. But even so, you could hear the distant page flips of textbooks and the whispers from across tables, and anyone could find you both in such compromising position — but the risk was exactly what Satoru wanted.

“Ca-can’t help it, sweetheart, been thinking about how pretty you’d look on your knees f’me all day,” and he’s rambling now, pressing a fist to his lips, as the other clutches at the shelf behind him, his lust glazed crystalline gaze watching you as your fingers graze his cock, thumbing at the pearly bead of precum, “been so hard all day — wanting your pretty little lips around my cock,”

And you giggle, as you lick his precum from your fingers, before spitting in your hand, beginning to rub his his cock, fingers teasingly tracing each and every lovely vein and ridge, making him buck his hips against your touch, “g’nna have to try to be quieter than that when I wrap my lips around you, baby,” and your lips kiss the tip, kitten licking the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum from the source, pulling out a choked gasp from his throat, “must have been aching in all your classes, Toru — I wonder if your students noticed — wonder if they thought about having this cock down their throat,” and he’s swallowing thickly, “too bad this cock is mine,”

And you’re pumping him in earnest now, precum and spit as makeshift lube as the lewd noises of your hand glides over his dick, as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, glazed over with pure lust, “Fuck, Toru, your cock is so fucking gorgeous,” and you groan, before you guide him to your lips, letting the precum gather on them, until you let him sink into your mouth.

He’s already so close — you can tell by the way his cock is twitching in your mouth, as you swallow around him, tongue wrapping around him, “I’m g’nna cum down your throat too soon, baby,” and his words come out strangled, your fingers squeezing what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, “fuuuck, baby, I’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth,” and his hips are rolling as he clutches against the stack behind him, the other weaving into your hair, fingernails digging into your scalp, “gonna make you feel so good, gotta reward you for being such a good girl, taking my dick so well,”

You gag lightly on his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, and the only thing you can hear is the way your mouth slurping around his dick, the wet squelches as he fucks your throat, “I’m—” and that’s the only warning you get, before his hot cum slides down your throat, his hands grasping at your hair to hold you in place, “swallow every drop, baby, so nasty,” he’s whispering now, legs unsteady, as he watches you pull away, a string of cum and spit connecting you to his cock, and he’s almost hypnotized by the sight of you, utterly fucked out, your tongue darting out to lick the cum that dripped from your mouth, wiping the rest on the back of your hand.

And he’s groaning, “Sweetheart, I gotta fuck you so bad,” and he’s helping you to your feet, pressing an insistent kiss to your lips, his tongue sliding into your mouth, groaning as he tastes his release in your mouth. But you’re tugging up his boxers and slacks, adjusting them into place, and he whines, “babyyyy,”

“Not right now, Toru,” you glance around, “someone could see us, we’re lucky no one heard us with how loud you were being,” you kiss his neck, as he pouts, “such a good boy for me, I expect a reward tonight,” and he’s grinning, raising his eyebrows — and so fucking eager.

“Oh, I’ll reward you all night for this, baby,” and he’s pulling you into another kiss, before you hear someone clearing their throat.

And you pull away to find Suguru standing, looking thoroughly unimpressed, “I was wondering why you were late for our lunch, and here you are,” his tone is even, but his eyes are like daggers digging into Satoru’s skin.

But it only seems to bounce off Satoru, his lips curled in a devious grin, as he only wraps an arm around your waist, “Sorry Suguru for keeping her, she would’ve called, but she had her mouth full,” and your cheeks flush, as your eyes snap to Satoru, mouth agape — this motherfucker— “it won’t happen again, or it might,” and he squeezes your ass, as he slips away, “by the way,” Satoru plucks a book out of the stack on the top shelf, “here’s that book you were looking for that you mentioned before,” pushing it into Suguru’s hands, and he’s gone in a moment, leaving you both alone.

Suguru’s expression flashes with irritation for a moment, before his lips curl into a smile, “Shall we go?”

And you only knew that you would catch hell for this in Suguru’s office now — the ache between your legs only growing — not that you really minded.

~~~

The game between Suguru and Satoru only continued to escalate — fucking you and fucking with each other while they were at it. Suguru had retaliated by marking you up in his office after bending you over his desk. He had spanked you, hand bearing down “Such a needy one, aren’t you, princess? Sucking another man’s dick when you were supposed to be enjoying a nice lunch with me,” he scoffs, slapping another mean spank, but this time to your aching pussy,

“Such. A. Greedy. Girl,” he says between slaps, making you cry out, nails digging into the wood of his desk, “don’t think bad girls deserve lunch — you’re probably still full off his cum, anyway,” you can hear the click of his belt, as he’s undoing his pants, “no, I think I should fill something else,” and his thick cockhead is rubbing against your dripping folds making you whimper, “don’t you think, baby?”

And he had spent the rest of lunch fucking you, even doing it again after you had finished teaching, waiting at the back door of your classroom for your students to file out, before he had you in his arms again, spread for him as he makes you ride him on the desk. Deep long strokes that have you whining and writhing in his lap, before he’s fucking his cum into you again. And after he’s setting you down on shaky legs, helping you fix your clothes, before dragging your ruined underwear down your ankles, before snatching them up, and pocketing them, as you stare at him, only a smile on his lips, “for later use,”

He lets you wash up, but insists on dropping you off at Satoru’s doorstep with a grin and a wave. And Satoru nearly has you pressed against the door when you enter, hand already sliding down your pants, raising his eyebrows with a grin, when he finds nothing there, “Teaching without panties, Professor?” and he’s sinking to his knees for you, taking your dress pants with them, looking up with a shiteating grin (though surely it would be pussyeating later), “didn’t know you were such a naughty girl,”

“I didn’t,” the defensive reply leaves your mouth without a thought, as Satoru tilts his head, “I mean, I—” you lick your lips, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment — you were so stupid — “I had them on before,”

And the pieces are clicking in his head, as his hands press your thighs open, seeing the scattered marks left by Suguru — and then he’s pressing a kiss to the marks that Suguru made, murmuring, “do I get to keep something too? That’s not really fair Princess — gonna hurt my feelings if you play favorites,”

“What do you want?” And he’s grinning, and you know he has something specific in mind.

~~~~

“You could’ve chosen anything, and you wanted this,” you settle on Satoru’s lap, making his hips roll helplessly against you — you bite your lip as you look at him, his hands were tied behind the back of the chair, your underwear stuffed in his mouth, “you wanted these right?” You tease, tugging at the back of his head, “how’d your colleagues think of you now?” Your fingers palm the base of his leaking cock, it was so pretty, just as he was, “the great Satoru Gojo tied up and dick out for his junior, huh? Maybe I should take a picture, show them how pliant you are?” You’d never do that, but you knew the idea turned him on — his groan evidence enough, his traitorous dick twitching at your words.

A muffled groan against your panties, his pretty blue eyes staring up at you pleadingly, “want something, baby boy?”

And a whine leaves his throat, and you’re smiling, fingers squeezing harder, and his hips jerk again, “My hand?” And he shakes his head, “my mouth?” And he’s shaking his head, and your lips curl, “you think I’m that easy?” And he gives a nod, making you raise an eyebrow, about to reply when there’s a knock at the door.

Your eyes both snap over, the door thankfully locked, but a slow grin grows on your lips, as you ease off his lap,as he’s staring at you with wide eyes, “Gotta see who it is, can’t be rude, baby,” and you’re adjusting your clothes, opening the door just a crack.

“Oh, Professor,” Satoru hears a female voice - it was a student from one of his classes — Rei? Ren? — “do you know where Professor Gojo is?” Her surprise was evident, but you only seemed to take it in stride. This was the student who always loved to flirt with him, taking any opportunity even outside of office hours.

“Oh he’s all tied up in a meeting right now, I’m waiting for him to get back to discuss school related matters,” you sigh, opening the door slightly more, making him squirm — if you opened it a little more… he’s nearly moaning at the thought, “you know him, he can never shut up when it comes to Physics,” and the student chuckles, and now you’re prolonging the conversation on purpose, asking her about the semester and how classes are going - he’s straining against his own tie you had used bind him, a small whine that he swallows when he sees you give him the middle finger behind your back — a warning, “I’ll let him know you stopped by and he’ll email you to set up a meeting,”

And you shut the door, locking it , before turning, your eyes falling to his cock — even redder than before, pretty bead of precum at the end — “I see you enjoyed that, did you want your students to see you like this? Spread out and tied up for me?” You’re unbuttoning your blouse, as you slowly walk over, before settling on his lap. Your fingers tug at his hair on the back of his head, pulling your panties from his mouth, and stuffing it in his shirt pocket, “I wanna hear you talk now,” and you’re grasping his leaking cock, pressing it against your aching cunt, “beg for me,”

And he whimpers, “Fuuuuck, please, sweetheart, I need you to fuck me, use me as your toy, just—“ he’s biting his lip, leaning up, blue eyes watery, “I need you, I need you so bad,” and you’re dragging your thumb down his erect nipples, before you’re leaning down to bite one, nibbling and sucking, “shit—fu—“ and he’s keening against you, desperate for more, snapping his hips against you making his top part your folds, drawing a moan from your lips.

“So needy, you couldn’t even wait for me to fuck you,” you sink onto him, meanly grinding on him, his thick cock parting his folds all too fast — your walls squeezing the cum out of him. And he’s choking out a gasp as you cover his mouth, his spit wetting your fingers, “do you want other people to hear your pornographic moans? Those are just for me,” and you start to ride him, hips slapping against his, as you moan softly into his ear, “always make me feel so good, Toru, s’full,” and he’s twitching inside you, a moan vibrating against your fingers, “should have known you love praise — it’s your favorite drinking game,” you teased, as his hips begin to snap to meet yours, driving himself in deeper.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so perfect, baby, so fuckin’ wet f’me, so warm,” he’s meeting every snap of your hips, and you’re only moaning now, messily covering his mouth with your lips, so he can eagerly swallow your sounds for you, tongues tied together, the groan and squeaks of the chair only growing louder.

Until you pull your lips from him, “Toru, I’m close,” and he’s nodding, his head lolling back as your walls clench around him. He doesn’t last much longer, toes curling as his hips continuing to fuck you through your orgasm, until he’s notching himself in you deep. Two more thrusts and he’s spilling inside you, fucking his load deeper, as you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. Boneless, as he kisses your shoulder sweetly, as you untie his hands, freeing them, so he can hold you.

And you pull back to look at him, pale cheeks flushed, lips bitten red, and sheen of sweat on his forehead — he’s so fucking pretty—

And he’s only grinning— “can we do it again?

—and a fucking menace.

~~~

“Relax,” Suguru whispers, fingers pressing his glass of wine to his lips, his hand on the small of your back to guide you, “you’re so tense,” he chides gently, as your eyes flit to glare at him.

He knew exactly why you were tense.

The two of you stroll into the university gala, hosted to draw in wealthy alumni and investors in hopes of donations and to show off the prestige of the university. And as a new professor, you were required to attend — as was Suguru, as one of the most reputable.

“Suguru, I know I agreed to this, but is it a good idea for us to be going to an event like this together? People could talk,” and he’s only shrugging, a smirk on his lips.

“People are already talking, so why not give them something to talk about, Professor?” he whispers in your ear, hot breath against your ear making you flush.

“Any publicity is not always good publicity, Suguru,” you sigh, hearing whispers as the two you walked the length of the hall, “don’t think the university would take kindly to gossip and rumors about affairs amongst their employees,”

“Two, no sorry, three single professors engaging in healthy relations isn’t something that should be shamed,” he’s looking at you with mock outrage, mouth agape, “are you not for healthy expression of sexuality, Professor?”

You snort, whispering, “Y’know I’m all about that, Sugu—or should I bring up how many times you came last night? You had to wash your cum off my back,” and you delight in the slight red tint in his cheeks, before he shamelessly grins.

“Remind me? I still have the pictures,” he snorts, and something he says sticks in the back of your mind.

“Are we? Single, that is,” you ask, chewing on your lip — the worst time to ask the “what are we” question was in a banquet hall full of people who didn’t know about your relations — or your ones with his best friend.

“Well, I’m only seeing you, if that’s what you mean,” and your anxiety ease a bit, “but the same can’t be said for you,” and his words are half-teasing, but half serious — his gaze growing a bit more serious, “How long are you going to make us wait until you choose, sweetheart?”

“Until I choose?” and he’s turning to look at you, fingers cupping your chin.

“Do you expect us to share you forever?” he’s glances to see if anyone is watching before his thumb drags over your lips, “because I’m not too good at sharing, and I don’t think Satoru is either,”

And then your conversation is cut short just as two investors approach Suguru to engage in some discussion of ethics. Your mind wanders as soon as you’re done with the formal platitudes, putting your hand on Suguru’s arm to tell him you’re going to get a drink, before excusing yourself for a moment. You wander to the bar, ordering yourself a drink, before pulling your phone out discreetly — notifications only from Satoru staring back at you.

“Can’t believe you got conned into attending the gala,” and you sigh, honestly you couldn’t believe it either — you sneak a look at Suguru in his suit — a deep burgundy suit with a black shirt that complemented his black hair tied into a neat bun, aside from the few strands framing one side of his face. No tie around his neck, because of course, he couldn’t be too proper — although, when that was your view, you suppose you could.

“I can’t exactly say no, I’m a new professor.” and Satoru’s reply is almost instant.

“I could’ve gotten you out of it, but you agreed to crucify yourself with Suguru. Too bad, we could’ve had our own fun :P” and Satoru as always had a one track mind.

You roll your eyes, “Mind only on one thing, Satoru?”

“Only when it comes to you, baby, ;)” and you snort, lips curling at his remark, another text coming through right after—

“Who are you texting?” Suguru’s voice makes you jump, as you tuck your phone away, missing Satoru’s last text as you do, raising an eyebrow, “let me guess, trying to convince you to skip out?”

“Well—” and his arm is around your waist, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Then let’s go,” and he’s striding through the throng of people gathered at tables and floating through the banquet hall, finding his way through the double doors, veering into a hallway right off of the hall that only led to the electrical closet and other maintenance rooms, “we can have a quick respite,” and he’s unbuttoning the button on his jacket, as he turns his gaze to you.

“Where—” and he’s pressing you against the wall of the hallway, a pillar positioned nearby that blocked the view of passersby, but completely exposed otherwise, “Sugu—” you squeal, as you try to urge his hands off your body, but he’s only squeezing your hips harder.

“Like I said, let’s give them something to talk about,” and his hands slide down the curves of your body, and he’s kissing you, stealing any protests from you from your lips, just as he does your breath, “you think I can resist you this whole night when you look like this, princess?” his hand slides up the slit of your dress, thick fingers against your bare thigh, “you’re temptation incarnate—” and two fingers are dragging your underwear to your ankles, “and the best cunt I’ve ever had,”

And his knee pressed against your bare, aching pussy sends a ripple of logic through you, “We shouldn’t—someone could see—” and his knee only presses harder against you, as you gasp, biting your lip, and he’s smiling wickedly as you grow even wetter, cunt fluttering at the thought.

“Be more honest, sweetheart, you love this — your lips are saying one thing and your princess cunt is saying another,” and he’s pressing his knee into you, grunting as he feels your slick collect on his dress pants, “c’mon pretty, I can’t be doing all the work. Fuck yourself on my thigh like a good girl,”

“Sugu—” and he’s meanly gripping your chin, his dark eyes blown out with lust.

“You gonna be good f’me, or do I have to make you?” And his fingers find the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing, ripping a moan from your lips. And you snap, beginning to chase your high, grinding on his thigh, as he flexed in time with it. Your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, tongues tasting each other, as the rest of the party melts away, your fingers reaching down to palm his erection through his slacks, “fuck, such a filthy girl — g’nna make me cum in my pants — you gonna clean up your mess after?”

And you’re nodding, moaning as his knee hits the right friction against your clit, “I’m close, Sugu—“

And he’s reaching down to grab your ass to find the perfect angle, his thigh flexing, and you’re cumming, burying your face in his neck as you ride your orgasm out, slick squelching all too loud against his now ruined pants.

And you’re panting, chest rising and falling, as you lean back before kissing Suguru hard, “sweetheart—“ and he’s lowering you on wobbly legs, as your hands slip off his jacket to drape in front of him as a weak attempt to hide the large stain of your cum.

“Let’s go,” and he’s not protesting, grinning as you drag him out, eyes still on him as you walk backwards out of the hall.

And neither of you notice, the figure behind the pillar, watching, as he slowly tucked himself back into his gray suit pants, pale skin flushed, as his crystalline blue eyes watched you both walk off. He’s panting, teeth grazing over his lip as he composes himself.

Fuck, he had never cum so hard, except with you. The way your face contorted in pleasure, how Suguru had made you moan, how he took control of you — it was fucking hot. He almost scoffs at himself, rubbing a hand down his face, he never thought of himself as a voyeur but maybe he was. And his lips curl, as his mind unraveled an idea — one where all three of you could enjoy.

Maybe he could learn to share.

It would just take the right amount of precision, and luckily, Satoru smiled at your text chain, his last text still unread — he was all about precision.

And who can resist you in that dress?

~~~~

“This is a fucking terrible idea,” you murmur against Satoru’s lips, as he presses you into the desk, “he could come back any minute,” and he’s pressing you into the edge of Suguru’s desk, crumpling papers, shaking books and picture frames on Suguru’s desk, “Toru—”

One minute, you were having a nice lunch with Satoru, and the next, he’s gotten you stumbling into his office with his hands under your shirt — or what you thought was his office.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this, sweetheart,” his fingers are toying with the hem of your dress pants, his lips pressing wet kisses along your jaw, “so needy f’me two seconds ago, didn’t even notice we went into the wrong office, and now you want me to make the lengthy journey back to my own?”

Your scoff grows into a gasp as his teeth grazes your pulse, teeth digging into your soft flesh before running his tongue over the blooming bruise, “It’s right next door,” and he clicks his tongue against your skin.

“And imagine how long that’d take, might end up taking you right in the hall, and imagine the rumors that’d spread then,” he’s chuckling as his hands slide under your shirt, teasing your tits through your bra, “what then? Gonna let them see how much of a needy girl you are for me?”

He’s plucking moans and whines out of you with ease, all too familiar with tearing down your inhibitions with precise ease, “fuck, what if he sees us—he could walk in any minute—”

“Aww, baby I just wanted to fuck you in the same place we first met, wouldn’t that be romantic?” and he’s tugging your pants down all the same, fingers unbuttoning your blouse as he pouts, “eat you out in the very chair I first saw you in, suck my cock while I sit in Suguru’s chair — doesn’t that sound like a good way to declare our undying love for one another?”

“Toru—” you sigh, and he’s catching your lips in a kiss, lips curled as you melt into his touch, as he sheds you of your clothes.

He’s sinking to his knees, spreading your thighs for him, kissing the wet patch of precum collected on your underwear. He’s inhaling, before warm breath settles against your skin, “such a perfect pussy,” and his tongue drags against the wet fabric, sucking at your clit through it, making you lurch against him, his large palms keeping you spread.

“Don’t know how Suguru doesn’t like sweets since he loves eating you out—” and your gaze is snapping down to him, a knowing grin on his lips, “still the sweetest thing I’ve tasted, pretty girl,”

“How do you—”

He chuckles, as he presses sweet kisses to your inner thigh, the vibration making you shiver, “With the amount of marks he leaves, I’d be surprised he didn’t — I may be a pretty face, sweetheart, but I’m not an idiot,” and you gasp as he uses his teeth to drag down your underwear, “can i keep these?”

“If you both keep stealing my underwear, I’m not going to have any left—”

“Even better,” he says cheekily, as he pockets them, “you’re not helping your case, baby,” and you glare down at him, but your mouth falls open as he presses a kiss to your weeping cunt, nose bumping against your swollen clit teasingly, “neither is this pussy of yours — you’re making a mess all over Suguru’s desk, think he’d enjoy that?” and he’s running his tongue over your folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips, “such a nasty girl, aren’t you?” and he’s teasing your outer lips with his wicked tongue, before he’s back to kissing and sucking marks onto your thighs.

“Toru,” you whine, “please,” and Satoru finally relents, wasting no time to bury his face in your cunt. He’s licking and sucking tight circles around your puffy clit before his tongue begins to part your folds, his fingers assisting in pulling your clenching walls apart, “fuuuck, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock, gonna suck me dry with this perfect pussy,” your fingers find purchase in his snowy locks, hips grinding against his face shamelessly, His tongue was warm and hot inside your cunt, flicking against places you couldn’t reach with your fingers, his thumb teasing your clit in tight circles, making you see stars before your eyes.

“Satoru, please, s’close,” and he’s moaning against your sweet cunt, eyes flickering down to see him groping his erection through his slacks, the sensation of his moans enough to make you squirt all over his face, his tongue and mouth eagerly eating you out through your release. Moaning his name as your chest heaves, your thighs try to close around his head, burying him deeper between them, as your toes curl.

And neither of you had noticed that the door had swung open, as Suguru stood in the doorway, his eyes flitting over the scene in front of him, your leaking cunt spread out in front of him, as Satoru turns at the door shuttinh, lips and chin still glossy with your release and his sweat, as he only grins up at his best friend.

“And what did you say about my problem with knocking?” and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, chest still heaving from your orgasm, juices spilling from your needy cunt, “at least I knocked last time,”

“I don't think knocking applies to when it comes to your own office, Satoru,” he sighs, casually removing his suit coat and unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt as he rolls them up, lidded eyes still raking over you, you squirming under his gaze as Satoru still holds your thighs wide open so they both can see your pretty pussy spread out and leaking, your release dripping down the hardwood of Suguru’s desk and onto his carpet, “come on, Satoru, you could’ve done this more subtly?” Suguru sits on the couch, manspreading his thick thighs, as his eyes met yours, dark lidded gaze that only makes your cunt twitch.

“Oh you know how I feel about subtlety,” and he’s lapping lightly at your leaking cunt, making your walls flutter, “I don’t like to waste time,” and he’s licking his lips clean, before wiping the rest on the back his hand, before turning to you, “saw you fucking our pretty princess at the gala — felt a little different than I thought it would,” and Satoru guides your gaze with his thumb on your chin to Suguru so your eyes spot the tenting bulge between his legs, “seems like you feel the same, Suguru,”

“And if I do?” He’s raising an eyebrow finally tearing his eyes away from you to glance at his best friend, “then what?”

And Satoru is kissing your neck sweetly, “Think someone could use your attention, got this sweet cunt all ready for you,” and Suguru’s cock twitches in his pants, “or if you prefer, her mouth is more than willing, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“What would you be doing? Watching?”and Satoru scoffs, as he’s pulling you into a kiss, lips sliding against yours, as his tongue parts them, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

And he’s pulling away, wiping a little saliva that drips from your lips, “oh I’d be doing more than just watching,” and Suguru sighs, as your gaze flicks over to him, his lips surprisingly curled in a smile.

“Wonder how tight our princess will get with both of us in her,” Suguru hums, and your mouth falls open at his words, “wonder who’s name she’ll scream first,”

“If you have to wonder, then you’ll know it’s mine,” and Satoru is forcing your gaze back to him, “what do you say, sweetheart? Are you ready to handle us both?”

And you can’t believe your ears, as you glance between them, “but what about choosing?” And Suguru chuckles, two fingers unbuttoning his pants, dragging them down to pool around his ankles, his cock straining against the fabric of his briefs, a wet patch where the head rested.

“Right now, the only thing I want you to choose between is whether you want my cock in your cunt first or in your mouth,” and Satoru only grins, his large palms sliding down your back, and under your ass and thighs.

“Want some help getting there, baby?” and you’re biting your lip and nodding, and he’s lifting you with ease, pressing wet kisses down your neck, before placing you on your knees in front of Suguru.

Suguru looks down at you, lips twitching upward into a grin, “Have you made your decision, princess?” and you nod wordlessly, as you settle on your knees between his thighs, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the damp fabric of his briefs, making him hiss.

“Wanna taste you before you fuck me, Sugu,” your fingers sliding into the elastic of his briefs and tugging them down, his pretty cock nearly slapping both your face and his shirt as you free it from its confines. He’s a little thicker than Satoru, you can barely get your lips around him, but Satoru had a easier time hitting the back of your throat, “need your cum down my throat,” and he’s grunting, your lips kissing the tip of his cock, tongue darting out to collect the precum leaking from the slit. Your tongue then drags along his vein, making him hiss, as Satoru only grins, adjusting himself in his slacks.

“Don’t know why I haven’t fucked this perfect mouth sooner,” Suguru groans, the weight of his cock was so nice in your warm and wet mouth. Your fingers stroked what you couldn’t fit, as Satoru sits back and watches, his gaze boring into your back, as you hear the click of his belt, and you know Satoru is undressing behind you, “now you’re going to know what it’s really like to have your mouth full, princess,”

And Satoru scoffs, his footsteps growing closer to you, as you hear the dull slump of his clothes against the carpet, “Jealous that I fucked it first and fucked it better, Suguru?”

Suguru’s fingers weave into your hair, tugging at it lightly, making you moan around his aching cock, making him grunt, “We’ll see about that,” and then you feel a pair of lips pressing a constellation of kisses along your back, as Satoru presses himself against you, his cock sliding between your thighs, teasing your aching cunt, “don’t wanna just enjoy the show this time, wanna be a part of it, ain’t that right, baby?”

Your cunt is fluttering around nothing as he rubs his cock against your outer lips and thighs, drawing more moans out of you, your fingers stuttering with their touch, until a sharp pull at your hair, draws your gaze upwards.

“Don’t forget whose cock you’re sucking, princess,” and his hips shallowly thrust against you, tip brushing against your throat, making you gasp, fingers digging into his thighs, “or I’ll remind you,”

“Oh, so scary, Suguru,” Satoru snorts from behind, as he steadies you from behind, his tongue dragging up your back, “now c’mon baby, squeeze your thighs for me like a good girl,”

You re-double your efforts with Suguru, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as he slowly began to snap his hips and fuck your throat, all the while moaning around his cock as Satoru fucked your thighs. You squeezed your thighs, his cock slipping against your dripping cunt, making your walls flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re dripping aren’t you? Making my cock all messy before I’m even inside you,” Satoru is leaning down, grazing his teeth against the soft flesh of your back, before his own thighs on either side of you, force your legs closed tighter, making him groan, “don’t think I can wait much longer to fuck this little princess cunt,”

“You’re going to have to, I’m first, after all the stunts you’ve pulled, Satoru,” and Suguru is close, his words coming out as pants, rutting against your mouth, his lidded eyes meeting your teary eyed ones, “that pussy is mine first,”

And Satoru lets out a breathy chuckle as your pussy twitches at his words, as he continues to roll his hips into you, driving your mouth deeper onto Suguru’s cock, “if you’re that eager, don’t think our princess would mind having us both at the same time, now would she?” Satoru drags his tip against your clit, making you whine against Suguru. And you’re whimpering, unable to nod, but Suguru moans, hips stuttering, as you swallow around his dick.

“That’s it, my greedy girl — g’nna cum down your throat, swallow every drop,” Suguru groans, his hips rut into your mouth, his warm load painting your throat, as you swallow his cum eagerly. He fucks himself into your mouth, your name leaving his lips as he pants, working himself through his orgasm, “that’s it, good fucking girl,”

“I’ve trained her well,” Satoru grunts, “can take cock like a pro, can’t you baby?” And you’re pulling yourself off Suguru’s cock, a mix of saliva and cum connecting you to his dick, tongue licking your lips clean, watching Suguru’s chest heave.

You moan as Satoru fucks his cock between your thighs, the tip dragging against your dripping pussy, “Look at the fucking mess you’re making of my office, Princess,” Suguru coos, his fingers cupping your chin, and thumb brushing against your bottom lip, as he palms himself lazily, “think she’s ready for both of us, Satoru?”

Satoru is close, squeezing your thighs tighter around his cock, “not yet, think this cunt needs your fingers stretching her out first,” and his cock twitches again, “fuuuck I’m close, sweetheart,” and he’s turning you over onto your back, lifting your legs up against his chest, fucking his cock between your thighs. And it’s too much for you, as you moan, clenching around nothing, your slick slipping down, as Satoru groans, before he’s painting your face white with his cum.

And Satoru is panting, as he’s pulling you into his arms, collecting his cum with his fingers from your flushed face. His fingers drag down your lips, urging you to suck on them, “Fuck, Princess, so fucking hot,” and he’s leaning down to lick the length of your cheek, chuckling, “you taste like me, baby,”

“Don’t hog her, Satoru,” Suguru chides, as he takes off his button up, and Satoru is shooting him a glare, before handing you over.

And Suguru is grabbing you up, pulling you into his lap, pressing your back against his chest, letting your legs spread, pussy leaking your release all over him. He hissed as his cock rubs against you, “you’re fucking drenching me, you already ruined my carpet and desk, gonna ruin my couch too now, sweetheart,”

His fingers part your folds, thumb bearing down on your aching clit, making you gasp, “So sensitive, haven’t even had our cocks yet, wonder if you’ll cry,” he hums, all too pleased, “gotta stretch you out first,”

And his lithe finger begins to circle your lips, before sinking into your cunt and making you gasp, “So tight even after Satoru ate you out — what do you think, Satoru, three fingers or four?” And he’s already sinking another finger in, beginning to bully your walls, scissoring and stretching, as he pumps his fingers into you steadily.

Satoru hums as he comes over, rolling your pebbled nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, drawing another moan from your lips, “Four, got to be sure she’ll fit us both,” and he leans down and takes your other in his lips, sucking before his teeth grazes your nipple.

“Fuck, she got tighter when you started playing with her tits,” Suguru smiles, as you huff in embarrassment, fading into another moan as he slips a third finger in, and it’s almost too much — you’re seeing stars nearly, as his fingers find that spot that makes you squirm and squeal.

“Sugu, fuck, it’s too much—“ and Suguru is only grinning, redoubling his efforts to find that spot again, pistoning his fingers in and out — the squelch of his fingers in your cunt ringing in your ears, as you give a broken whine, “I can’t—”

“Sure you can, baby,” Satoru coos, his teeth grazing the soft flesh of your breast, sucking and licking, making you nearly sob, “feels so good, look at you, taking his fingers so well—almost there,”

And Suguru finally sinks the fourth finger into you, and you’re so fucking stretched out, it feels so good — too good, “Gonna soak my whole hand at this rate, Princess,” and you’re only gasping and whining, grinding your hips against his fingers, wantonly chasing your high, and Satoru has the best view of it all — your swollen lovely lips parted, your eyes fluttering, and your pretty pussy fluttering around his best friend’s fingers. And Satoru can’t wait to see it all again, when they sink into you.

You can’t hold back, your voice raw and broken, “I’m g’nna—” and Suguru is grabbing your chin, pulling into a sloppy kiss, his lips gliding against yours, saliva running down the corners of both of your lips, swallowing your moans eagerly. And finally your back is arching against his chest, his fingers relentless even as you do orgasm, fucking your walls through it, thrusting your release back into you.

“That’s it, pretty,” Suguru murmurs, as he’s pulling his lips from you, dragging his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “think you’re ready for us now, aren’t you?”

“More than,” Satoru hums, as his fingers spread your pussy lips making you moan, before spanking your abused cunt, pulling a gasp from your lips, “who’s first?”

And Suguru is manhandling you so that you’re settled in his lap, facing him, “You got to watch her pretty face when she cums, now it’s my turn,” and the tip of leaking erection brushing against your sensitive cunt, making you lurch against him, “so responsive as always,”

“Hurry up, Suguru,” he’s grumbling, as he presses himself behind you, dragging his cock between your ass, making you whine, “wanna feel this pretty princess cunt milk me already,”

Suguru chuckles, leaning forward to kiss along your jaw, “Baby, think Satoru is more desperate than you are,” and you’re smiling against his lips.

“He always is,” you turn to smile at a pouting Satoru, but Suguru takes the opportunity to sink his cock into you, pushing past your walls, making your head snap back, mouth parted in an ‘o’ as his large palms settle on your hips, “Fuuuck, Sugu—”

“I told you to pay attention to who’s fucking you, princess,” he grins, grunting as he bottoms out, his cock twitching inside your walls, “you’re fucking soakin’ my cock, still so fuckin’ tight after I stretched you out,” his hips slowly thrust into you, teasing you, lazily edging your sensitive pussy, “so pretty, so perfect,” and your walls flutter around him, “fuck, you like that, huh?”

“Such a whore for our praise, huh?” Satoru pressing messy kisses to your neck, as he lines up himself in your cunt, “tell me you want this,”

“Fuckin’ hurry up, Satoru, or I’m gonna burst before you even fuck her,” Suguru growls, his hips snapping a little too roughly that has you crying out, as Satoru makes you look at him, thumb cupping your chin.

“Tell me, pretty, tell me how much you want both our dicks inside you,” Satoru croons, and his lips are pressing chaste butterfly kisses to you in contrast to the dirty words he says, with the slick sounds of Suguru fucking your needy cunt.

“P-please, I need you, need both of you to fuck me,” your words fall from your lips without hesitation, “shit, I swear to god, Toru, just—”

Your mouth falls open when Satoru pushes past your entrance, impaling you further, joining Suguru in your sweet cunt, and your mind is blanking — the fullness of them makes you nearly fall apart right then, the two of them groaning in beautiful synchrony.

“Fuck, didn’t think you could get any tighter or wetter, but you keep proving me wrong,” Suguru moans, squeezing your hips sweetly.

“So fuckin’ good, sweetheart, so, so good for us,” Satoru is mumbling into your shoulder as his hips begin to move against you, his balls slapping against your ass.

They move at different paces — Satoru faster and harder while Suguru was slower and deeper — their dicks driving into you, pressed between their bodies, sticky with sweat. Their hips strike their own rhythms, your orgasm quickly building like a flood, a wave ready to rip through you, as they fuck you again and again.

“Fuck, perfect little princess cunt gonna break our dicks in half,” Satoru groans, as he’s pressing kisses to your neck, “not gonna last much longer, Suguru,”

“Neither is she, judging from how her pussy is squeezing already,” Suguru grunts, as he’s pulling you into a sweet kiss, “now don’t forget, you gotta moan one of our names — moan the name that makes you cum,” and you’re fuckin’ close, so fucking close, you let out a pathetic whine that makes you flush at the sound of it, until they both begin to stutter inside you, hitting deeper, both brushing against that spot again.

“I’m g’nna—” and that’s all you manage before your walls clamp down on them, drawing out pornographic groans from both of them in your ears, as their cocks bottom out, as they cum, emptying their loads into you, fucking their cum inside as you three come down from your highs.

Pants fill Suguru’s office, the squelch of their hips slowing, as they twitch inside your desperately clingy cunt, stilling, as the three of you rest, boneless against one another. Suguru’s lips find yours softly, while Satoru is burying his face in the nape of your neck.

“You know Satoru, this has to be one of your better ideas,” Suguru hums, as he slowly eases out of your pussy, eyes darkening as he watches all of three of your mixed releases leak out of you, “although I’m going to have to get my carpet cleaned now,”

“Worth it,” Satoru sighs, pulling himself out as well, to collapse on the couch beside Suguru, before grabbing at you and pulling you to sit between them both, one of your thighs on either’s leg. His fingers drift to your all too full cunt, before using two fingers to collect some of the cum and stuff it back in, making you yelp, “sorry, baby, can’t have you wasting our cum, can we?” he winks.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, all too exhausted, as your head leans back against the couch, “so where does this leave us?”

And the two best friends share a look, seemingly having the same thought, “Well, at an impasse really,” Suguru sighs, lips curling into a grin.

“You never moaned one of our names, did you?” Satoru hums, pressing needy kisses along your shoulder, “so guess we’ll have to do it all over again.”

“Guess we will, only fair way to decide, isn’t it, Princess?” Suguru cups your cheek, leaning in for another kiss, as Satoru nibbles at your pulse, “again and again and again.”

And again, there was very little that Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto competed for — but you were one thing that they wouldn’t mind competing over for the rest of their lives.

✴︎ a/n: this is @bucky-of-the-opera's fault. all their idea. i simply was possessed while writing this. thank you to them, @laneysmusings, and @lemonpoppy-seed for beta reading and encouraging me to stick through this monster of a fic. its also my first time writing a threesome fsjndkj

✴︎ tag list: @penny18271, @getowhxre, @doodlingpizza, @pandoraium, @gojoslittlecrybaby, @wavychelle, @n3cromancyy, @invisible-mori, @shujiforever, @vorschlaghannah, @karazorel7, @arquiiva, @samisubi, @gumisgirl, @moranguitosz, @pasta-warlord, @thejeezyweezys, @4ri3n, @goldeneclipsedragon, @kaerean, @vitaminjee, @grooveandshit, @californiadreaming20, @ilovetwodmen, @bontensbabygirl, @crazynocturnalkiki, @gojosatorumyoneandonly, @bloodmoon25, @jaszzsy, @strxwberrysmoothii, @naruucore, @puffaloxx, @starlightstream, @purplegalaxynight, @sinnerstardoll, @eliz-lovesgojo, @hopplessdreamer, @sociedadvinperfecta, @jamleon, @ichikanu, @negroperson, @anakinskywalkersloverr, @dohwaesu, @rosesxviness, @goldeneclipsedragon, @forest4bee,

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru geto #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #sab [mlist]

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yanderenightmare · 10 months ago

Note

Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo— can't get enough of that concept I eat that every time

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, noncon, bullying

fem reader

Feeling like an immature awkward bully Gojo today...

Satoru is the type of bully who calls you flat-chested no matter what size you are because it’s the only thing he can think of saying when you catch him staring - because he's too stuck on the thought of how badly he wants to titty-fuck you to think up anything else.

He's the type to blush real bad - not pink, but purple - if he ever catches the pretty frill of your underwear under your skirt. It gets him hard as a can of coke and he needs to find someplace where he can take care of it for it to go away.

When you're tasked to read a romance novel for class, he doesn't fail to comment on how no one in their right mind would ever like you like that - saying something like he wouldn't even hire you as a maid.

And if any guy other than him talks to you, he's quick to make it ugly - calling you a slut - telling you it's no wonder guys flock around you like flies to trash when you're such a flirty floozy - then asks how you're not ashamed of yourself.

Meanwhile, he's also threatening those same boys - not just with bodily harm, but all types of other ruin - financial and social - he'll fucking bury them in a shit pile so steep and deep they're never going to be able to crawl their way out.

When you start ignoring him and isolating yourself from anyone and any place he might be - he starts hunting you. And when he finds you, he's doing anything he can think of to punish you for it. Pours his milk carton over you - feels his throat get tight at the sight of your tits through your wet T-shirt.

"You know... actually... you look kinda cute like this." He murmurs, crouched down over you where you've stumbled into a pitiful heap on the floor. Having thought you could hide yourself in an empty classroom - though only having left yourself open to be caught alone with him.

The sight of the white creamy liquid running down your pretty face in pearls makes his head feel cloudy and hot. He can't stop himself from bearing over you, your cheeks cupped in both his hands as he doesn't kiss but licks your face - dragging his tongue over your lips and nose, then your eyes, sucking the skin while you whimper - sitting stiff and tense against the wall waiting for him to get done - only he doesn't.

Instead, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth. Setting his knees down on either side of you, he's searching for a place to rub his bulge and decides your tits are the most welcoming place to relieve the pressure.

He leans his forehead against the wall, panting while looking down at you and the sight of his fatty nestle into your cleavage - still wet and see-through with milk - his hand cups each soft mound, squeezing them together - so lost in that drool is dripping down his chin.

When he creams his pants, he's back to blushing purple - as though he'd just woken up from something he thought was a dream.

Scrambling to his feet, he's slipping in the milk on the floor, nearly tripping as he runs out of the classroom and leaves you there - speechless.

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 10 months ago

Text

déjà vu

déjà vu : a french term that translates to "already seen." It is a phenomenon where an individual feels a strong sense of familiarity or recognition with a current situation.

bnha chap. 362 n 403 spoilers ! childhood friends to lovers can you tell i'm inlove with this trope oooorrr…, angsty?? bittersweet hurt/comfort ?? fem reader, reader's height isn't specified but is shorter than katsuki's, reader gets a bit insecure but katsuki fixes that up rq, reader is very mushy n inlove with katsuki, (but aren't we all) katsuki loves reader very much in return

in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.

he thinks about primary school. you’re both ten, double digits. foolishly believing you were all grown up. katsuki’s fingers are white and dry from cleaning up the chalkboard, since you guys were tasked for clean up duty today.

or at least, you were. but your classmate suddenly vanished without a word and katsuki, as nice and helpful as he was (to you, at least) decided to stay behind to help you, don’t ask him where your cleaning buddy went, he has absolutely no idea and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.

“ y’know—” he starts, soaking the soggy sponge into the water bucket next to him, then squeezing it out. “when we’re done with this stupid school stuff, i’ll go pro.” he states, slapping the sponge onto the board, creating a loud splat noise.

you, having heard this time and time before, simply look at him and smile, placing your classmates chairs on top of their desks row by row “mhm, i know !” you grin “ 'n you’ll be number one, right ?” you’re standing in between two desks, hands playing with your uniform skirt behind your back.

“hell yeah i will !” katsuki boasts, smirking. he scrubs at the board a little more vigorously.

“bad word !” you tease, giggling as you point at him “ 'm gonna tell miss you said a cuss word again !”

he huffs, turning around to scrunch his nose up and stick his tongue out at you, you stick yours out back playfully. “as if i care ! yer too much of a wuss to snitch on me anyways.”

“no I’m not, i’ll do it right now !” katsuki rolls his red eyes at you, returning to his task and wiping the board down in a zig zag motion. “ i don’t care” he reiterates.

you pout at his back and just then get an idea you’re sure will piss him off, a cat like grin pulls at your lips.

“okaaayy … then i’ll just tell your mom !” you sing, bursting into giggles when he swiftly turns around and waves the wet sponge in your direction. he’s too far to reach you but you dodge anyway, just to mess with him.

“no you won’t.”

“yeah, i will !” you counter, blowing a raspberry at him. you both break out into a fit of giggles when he aggressively dips the sponge into the water and flicks the droplets at you once more, before he decides to close the distance and chase you around your cramped little classroom growling and screaming, threatening you with the dirty sponge.

you’re squealing and giggling and laughing, trying to fend him off with a broom and even then, at ten. then when the concept of cherishing memories of the time you spend together wasn’t even an afterthought in his mind, katsuki remembers wishing he could stay with you like this forever.

when you’re both out of breath the classroom is just as messy—if not messier than it usually is. you give eachother a look then belly laugh some more.

you’re picking up chairs again and katsuki’s helping you, so it goes even faster. you don’t wanna go home because you won’t be seeing him anymore, but you have to admit your eager to finish and leave school.

katsuki’s back is to you on the second row and he can’t see you looking at him from the back row, he decides it’s time he says what he wanted to say before you got distracted. he clutches the legs of the chair he’s holding a little tighter.

“hey,” his voice comes suddenly in the quiet, it surprises you a little, you hum in response “ 'm really gonna go pro when we’re done with school, y’know.” he insisted.

you tilt your head wearily, looking at him with his back still turned to you. “yeah, i know.” you respond “you said that already.” you’re confused, he can’t hear the scrapping noise of the wooden chairs anymore, it’s annoyingly too quiet now.

“ you’re coming with me” he pauses, turning to you a little so you catch a peak of his quickly reddening face. it sounds like a statement but even then you know better. you don’t miss a beat, nodding furiously “uhuh, always !” his cheeks flare up more as he turns fully towards you. he walks over until the only thing separating you is the desk in between. he turns his back to you again to lean against the desk seperating you both.

“you’ll be with me, and we’ll be pro's together” he maintained. he feels his chest tighten when you offer him more of your pretty bright smiles and nods, you smile at him the way he knows you don’t with the other boys in class who are stupid enough to think they deserve even a second of your time and it makes him feel a little bit more confident as he speaks more clearly “a-and I’ll be number one, and you’ll be number two. but not behind me, with me, yknow ?” he feels stupid for having to explain himself but you don’t mind, as long as you can stay with katsuki you don’t mind which number you are. you move across the table so you can stand next to him. you nod and he let's out a little huff and a smile starts pulling at his mouth.

"a-and" he gulps " 'n then—i'll marry you."

it's quiet for just moment.

and then you register what he said and feel your entire body heat up.

"w-wha ?! " you sputter "marry me ?!" your wide eyes startle him as he glances at you but refuses to look over again. he's red to the tips of his ears, pulling at the bottom of his now longer tucked in shirt. despite the growing lump in his throat, he nods.

"mhm," he kicks at an eraser laying on the floor, the only noise heard coming from it hitting a wall a little further. you don't see where, you're still looking at him. " my ma says i can't do it now, since it's...illegal, or something." he scoffs dissaprovingly "b-but..when 'm older," he sucks in a breath, then suddenly turns to you causing you to sit up straighter in suprise, you feel your hands gripping the desk tighter and tighter as your face feels more and more on fire. "when i'm older—i'll do it. that way, none of those other losers will look at you."

he looks way more flustered than you but he's sitting up straight still, eyes determined and unwavering and it knocks the wind out of you, because for as long as you can remember katsuki's been the coolest.

there's absolutely no doubt in your mind he's embarrassed. if his face wasn't a dead give away, his posture and demeanor give it away just as much. you've known him for a long time now, since you were 6 years old and he had walked up to you. little newbie you, who had transferred in the middle of the school year and with nobody to play with. he was there, head held high with his friends in tow behind him, demanding to know what your quirk was and the rest was history.

katsuki persists even when he knows the odds are low, he perseveres and keeps kicking and punching and blowing up everything in his path where anyone else would've given up while they had the chance. like when he fought against those 4th graders while you were all still only in 2nd grade. his face was all messed up and he had a nosebleed, but he ended up winning. because he swore he would keep winning.

'cus that's what heroes do.'

katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'd win. even here, when he isn't fighting, instead confessing to you. he's red-faced, embarrassed out of his mind and nervous, but his shoulders are squared and there's no doubt in his eyes after he had just told you he would marry you. when he thought about being older, he thought about you being there with him.

and even after what you'd heard all you can think is that your katsuki is so cool.

so with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty little cramped classroom, you give him your response.

"mhm ! "

katsuki thinks about his last year of middle school.

today's the last day of your middle school life before you go off to high school and katsuki couldn't be happier to leave this shitty school. he's 15 now. older, but besides his features, remained the same (to you, at least) .

it's your last day and you finish it off with cleaning duty, ironically, and he remembers that day back in elementary. then proceeds to shake it off, hoping to shake off the embarrassing memories. but it doesn't seem to work because it feels like the universe is seriously fucking with him.

you're the one tasked with cleaning duty again and with your cleaning buddy, yet again, being nowhere to be found. katsuki yet again staying behind to help you out. and again, katsuki has absolutely no idea where your buddy went and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.

it shouldn't be anything new, he stays and helps, albeit begrudingly, every time you have cleaning duty. but it feels different somehow. katsuki chalks it up to it being the end of the year.

the only difference from last time is you actually finish in record time. usually, that would've been great news, less time at school and even more free time katsuki can spend with you.

but you're quiet today.

you usually chat his ear off, and just because it's you, he chat's right back. wether you're messing around teasing each other or just talking about your day at school or who's house you're staying over at for the afternoon and which movie you're watching, you're always talking about something. it's comforting where he'd usually think it to be annoying with anyone else. but they aren't you.

and he doesn't like it.

when you finish you reach for your bag sitting neatly on top of your desk but katsuki stops you, grabbing your wrist. the feel of your soft skin has him involentarily flushing lightly, he ignores it in favor of squeezing your wrist when you don't immediately look back at him.

"what's up with you ?" he questioned gruffly. it comes out harsh, but that's not what you hear. you've known katsuki for a long time, after all. he's worried, you can tell. his words are rough around the edges but his eyes are soft, filled with care and the soft stroke of his thumb against you skin sends slight shivers down your spine when you turn to look at him shyly.

you open your mouth to deny him, but he can practically read your mind "don't give me that 'nothinngg' bullshit" your nose scrunches at the way his voice raises in pitch as he crudely mimicks you and a little smirk pulls at his face for only a moment before it falls again " don't go lyin' to me. know i hate that shit" he rasped.

you sigh, he's known you just as long as you'd known him after all.

you lean against your desk and he copies you, your shoulders brushing as he scoots himself a little closer to you. you jump up a little to sit on your desk, you're the same height as him like this. he scoots a little closer and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your desk to lean on it, fingers inches away from yours.

"i just—" you faltered "this our last day of school. when the day is over we'll be high schoolers." you stated. katsuki scoffs jokingly and leans a bit closer to you "what ? you tellin' me youre gonna miss this dump ? last i heard, you were the first one who wanted to leave so you wouldn't have to deal with mr. nakamura anymore." he jests, trying to lighten the mood as best he could, the worry in his eyes still shining bright. a smile pulls at the corner of his lips when you huff out a little giggle.

"yeah well, i won't be missing mr. nakamura. or his stupid tests" you pretend to shiver as you cringe "at all." katsuki let's out a cute chuckle. he's like a magnet, you feel yourself scooting closer to where he's leaning next to you, like you're being pulled closer to him, you don't mind. you never mind being close to katsuki.

"but..?" he coaxed, knowing that wasn't all you wanted to say.

"but.." you continue "but i'll miss this, yknow ? like—the school itself wasn't..the best" katsuki scoffs in response but doesn't interrupt "the teachers weren't either. but—i dunno—this. being here." you confess, you stare down at your shoes as you kicks your legs aimlessly into the air " we've spent such a long time here, and now we're leaving. we went from being the youngest—to the oldest, to going back to being the youngest again, and that in itself isn't the problem.."

"then what is ?" he raises a brow.

"we're gonna be in a completely different school, with completely different people—"

"but we'll be together." he interrupts "you said you wanted to go to ua too" you said you were gonna stay with me is what he wants to say, but it's childish and that wouldn't be fair to you.

"of course, i still do !" you reassure "but—there'll be tons of new, strong, cool people at ua.."

"maybe even stronger and cooler than me.." you trail off. you don't need to say more for katsuki to understand what you mean and it pissed him off.

"shut up." he growls.

"katsuki—"

"no. shut the fuck up." he's right in front of you before you can blink. you reflexively part your legs and he takes the opportunity to stand even closer to you, right in your space. you feel your cheeks warm at the proximity, you’re close enough to see it's apparently affecting him too, his cheeks turning a cute pink but as stubborn as your katsuki is he doesn't budge. as usual.

you don't exactly know what you and katsuki are. you know you like him, you know you have for a long time. and you'd like to believe he likes you too. he doesn't act the way he does with you the way he does with his other friends (or his lackeys as he calls them, you're the only one he openly calls his friend) but he doesn't really have anyone close to him besides you, so you don't know if he'd act this way with someone else.

the thought leaves a nasty taste in your mouth, so you decide to focus on something else. something else being katsuki, of course, he's all up in your space. his gaze not allowing you to look or even think about anything else but him.

"who i meet at ua doesn't fuckin' matter, they'll all be weaksauce compared to me anyway" he states smugly, causing you to huff out a laugh again " i don't care if theyre cool, or strong" his nose scrunches up in disgust as he quips venomously "i don't care about any of that—and i don't hang out with you because of that either—i fuckin' care about you because you're you."

your heart stutters.

" what, you think i hang out witcha because of superficial shit like that ? you mockin' me or something ?"

"no, no course not !" you insist, shaking your head.

" exactly, so don't..." he huffs, looking away from you towards the ground, there's a random eraser lying on the ground and he kicks it "don't go saying dumb shit like that."

"i don't waste my time with just anyone, 's why i'm wastin' it with your ass" he jokes, chuckling when you squeeze his nose in response. supressing a smile you whine at him when he leans forward to bite yours.

"katsuki, you're gross !" you giggle as you push at his face, he smiles lightly at the sound of your laughter, one of his favorite sounds. "ya started it." he disputes weakly, his smile turning into a smirk when you groan and then it falls again as he looks at you seriously.

" but seriously" he starts "i mean it, y'know. don't just say shit to say it"

"i know" you smile. he grunts in acknowledgement then continues.

"i don't care about how cool those future ua asshats are gonna be. you're different, you're not like that—i mean—that's not what i look at—what i see with you" he fumbles around for his words and groans, slamming his forehead against your shoulder. you're used to katsuki being physical, but that was usually when he was being annoying, pinching and prodding and biting at you. he's rarely ever this affectionate. it's different, but nice..really nice, so you savor it while you can. your fingers twitch a little closer to his and you decide to take a leap of faith, placing your hands ontop of his. he flinches and you're about to pull back when he grips your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. you feel him huff into your uniform. his hair tickles as he shuffles his head deeper inside your shoulder.

"you're not like those other losers, y'not like anyone" he explains "you're—when you're around it's like you're glowing. you're bright and when you talk, everyone sorta—gets pulled towards you like you're some typa magnet" his hands get warmer against yours as he speaks. you're surprised that he sees you this way, when that's practically the same way you see him.

" you pull people in so easily, and it pisses me off that you don't realise it. you are strong, and cool and everything else but that's not all you are. s'not all i care about."

"you're annoying. and whiney. extremely annoying, actually" he chuckles, and you pull at his ear "but—" he continues "but you're..fun to be around or whatever, wouldn't be around you otherwise. you're too fuckin' nice and your taste in music isn't bad" katsuki grumbles.

he wants to say more, so much more. he wants to say he thinks the way you immerse yourself when you're watching a movie together is adorable. the way you hold yourself back from commenting during the movie so as not to be annoying, even thought he could listen to you naming street signs and never get bored. the way your eyes light up when you get your grade back for a test you had studied your ass off for, when you come to him showing off your hard work it makes him want to hold you and never let go. he wants to say the way you're not scared to banter and bicker with him, the way your nose scrunches up when you try to hold in your laughter when he passes you a crudely drawn picture of your homeroom teacher, the way you smile at him whenever you see him, whenever he shares his umbrella or your lunches even though you have your own and he has his, makes him want to kiss you silly.

he wants to say all this and more, but he knows the words won't come out right, they never do. but somehow you understand and it's another thing he admires—that he loves about you.

"i...didn't know you felt that way" is all you can quietly muster up. you're cute, he feels you squeezing his hands a little tighter " yeah you didn't, cus i didn't tell you" he ribbed. you huff out a 'dont be annoying" gruffly and he chuckles. the asshole.

your asshole, though, your heart decides.

you're both quiet, everything is quiet and you're happy, reassured. you'd be happy if this is where the conversation ended but katsuki never fails to surprise you today it seemed.

" 'sides" he squeezes your hands tighter "i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ? how can i do that if i'm not around you, hah ?"

you're heart skips approximately three beats at the memory of his promise and you lean back to look at his fully red cheeks and his fleeing eyes.

"you still remember that ?" you ask incredulously. he rolls his eyes but you can tell it's simply to save face as he responds " of course i do. wasn't that long ago."

"but—we were like—ten when that happened. "

"so ?" he responds simply "doesn't change nothin'. i told you, i don't say shit to just say it."

you're flustered and so utterly confused, but there's a happy feeling bubbling in your stomach at his words " but we're not even dating !"

"we're not ?" of course not , he knows he hadn't properly asked you to be his girlfriend. but he figured if he talked about the memory that seemed to refuse being pushed aside, he could casually sneak by what he was too embarrassed to ask. but of course, you never make it easy for him.

"no, we aren't" you pout, crossing your arms at him. he grumbles, reaching to pull your arms away from your chest but you're stubborn, he was right about you being extremely annoying. "cut that out," he hissed.

"mm-mm ! " you shake your head "you can't just decide we're together. i didn't even know you liked me like that.." you trail off shyly. katsuki looks utterly baffled "hah?! whaddya mean you didn't know ? you don't see me actin' like this with anyone else do you ?"

"that's cus you're mean to everyone else !" you choked out, puffing your cheeks out at him.

"well yeah ! but—that's the thing, i'm not mean to you !" he defends, faltering when you raise a brow at him "fuck off, m'not that mean ! i'm just messing with you !" he rebutted. you simply roll your eyes at him and after a moment he sighs.

"fine" he concedes "i should've told you i liked you, i don't just decide that i want you to be my girlfriend when it's convenient for me or something" he keeps quiet about how you could of also told him you liked him as well for now, for fear of you getting moody at him again.

you still look away from him and he groans "hey c'mon, look at me." he utters sincerely. after a minute, you offer him a glance and he takes his opportunity, turning your face towards him, holding back a grin when he feels how warm your cheeks are.

"do you...wanna be my girlfriend ?" he stammers, looking at you with his red cheeks and bashful red eyes, and yet his gaze doesn't falter.

so cool.

it's your last day of middle school, your last day before you go off to a different school with different people. but with your katsuki by your side, and that's all that matters to you.

and with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty classroom, you give him your response by pressing your lips to his softly.

katsuki thinks about the night before today, when you'd knocked at his door in the dead of night.

usually, on any other day, he'd have scolded you for being up so late but would've ended up letting you in anyway. but lately, things hadn't been as they had been before..everything happened. and he could tell you were upset, so he simply let you in without a word.

you take the liberty of laying down in his bed like you used to back at his house and back at the dorms. he doesn't mind. it feels familiar, comforting.

he lies down next to you and you immediately latch onto him, seeking his warmth. with your head in his chest, you hold onto him tightly, like he'll dissapear if you don't. he clings to you just as tightly.

"what's up with you ?" he mumbles sleepily, softer than when he would've if he were more awake, but still focusing all of his attention onto you.

he feels you shake against his chest "jus' wanted to be wif you" he hears you mumbles. he presses his lips to the top of your head, pressing a sweet little kiss onto it as you breathe "you know that's bullshit." he reprimands, he feels you squeeze him tighter. he squeezes your waist twice, his warm hands running up and down your sides "c'mon, talk to me" he prodded

you look up at him and he looks down at you. your eyes are glossy, he can tell even in the dark and he's sure you were crying a little. his theory is confirmed when he hears you let out a little sniffle, his heart breaks at the sound. his heart breaks even more when you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping at the front of his shirt.

"baby," he pleads softly, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, mouth and cheeks when you whine. "tell me what's bothering you, yeah ?"

"m'just—you're gonna be fighting tomorrow, and we all are and i know you're strong but you'll be in the front lines against him" you blubbered, you hiccup as tears roll down your cheeks " and i know you're strong. but katsu, i can't—" you gasp. he shushes you softly, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips. he knows what you're gonna say, he knows you're worried. he's known you for so long after all.

he hated himself the day he woke up after the first war. when he woke up to you crying at his side, with you yourself still being injured. he hates how much he worried you that day and he knows that the fleeting glances you give him whenever you have a briefing with the pro's, the way you stare off at nothing whenever you catch a glimpse of his scars, are all out of worry for him. he did the same after he had found out you had also been heavily injured during the brawl, so he can't say he wouldn't do the same way.

"baby, babe—look at me" he intones softly, grabbing onto your tear stained cheeks to get you to look at him, he's close so he's sure you can see him despite the darkness. he can't help pressing another kiss to your lips " nothing's gonna happen, okay ?" he reassures, rubbing your cheek softly.

"i can't see you like that again, katsuki. i just can't" you whimper, leaning into his hand.

"you won't, promise you won't." he vows. he knows you're even more worried because you'll both be in different areas and he hates he won't be able to keep his eye on you. but you're strong and cool and everything else, so he trusts you'll be okay "i need you to trust me"

"i do" you sniffle, taking a deep breath "i do trust you, but i just—don't wanna see you get hurt, kacchan"

he sighs softly, staring at you lovingly as he pulls you towards his chest. you nuzzle against him and he presses his mouth to the side of your head. "i can't promise i won't be gettin' hurt, s'gonna happen on the job" he says carefully, rubbing your back "but i promise i'll always come back to you. no matter how fucked up i get, i'll win. for you." he declares, feeling you shove your head deeper against his shoulder.

you remember how despite getting extremely injured by shigaraki, he recovered in record time. it seemed nothing could stop your boyfriend from proving to the world he was the best. because katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. because to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'll win.

and despite the worry and the fear gnawing at you, you can't help but think your katsuki is so fucking cool.

so you nod against his shoulder and he feels the collar of his shirt grow wet, but he doesn't mind as your grip on him loosens lightly until you can feel yourself falling asleep.

before you fall though, you hear katsuki speak.

"besides, i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ?"

he feels you smile into his neck, and you give him your response by happily nodding into his shoulder with a hum.

in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.

he thinks of the promises he's made. he thinks of the promise he made to his old hag to not cause you, such a sweet girl, too much trouble. he remembers the promise he made to his old man to stay safe while he went out on patrol and when he'd fight against shigaraki for the second time. he remembers the promise he made to himself to get his limited edition all might card signed one day. and he remembers the promise he'd made when he said he'd always, always come back to you.

and he remembers the promise he'd made to marry you. the promise that you both would be together and none of the other losers would look at you.

so when he awakens, katsuki doesn't bother to ask why or how.

he simply fights and keeps fighting, so he can win, no matter how fucked up he gets.

and always, always come back to you.

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mondaymelon · 10 months ago

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boo. he’s finished.

design sketches of him that i did … feat: the back of my homework :

ignore the fact i disappeared that was simple winter hibernation ( still sick and coughing out my lungs btw )

for a basically nonexistent context it’s currently 1:50 am my paper is literally just on my mattress hello hard surface who and this is the most abhorrent lighting and i COOKED (dubious) 🔥🔥🔥‼️🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🌶️🌶️✨🌶️😋😋🌶️😋😋🥺🥺💖💖✨✨

one of my ocs grgrggrjekslalksj I need to talk about them more on here nyways yeah uhm bye read the tags thanks

#hello why isn’t my tag popping up #anyways hi everyone meet an oc who i made 2 days ago and has yet to obtain a name #made him when I was doing some vtuber model concept sketches.#giggles #we are going to ignore my ugly ass handwriting #scrapped the sickly Victorian silly on the other side. sigh #anyways pspspspsps if and maybe when i get a model of this fella going you bet i will be using it everywhere #silly story the big drawing was also paper from a classroom that I smuggled out 😋😋#yum yum yum #overall pretty happy w how this turned out but the bg halo and big ass sparkle are not eating 😞😞#if you look close enough you can see my signature ( omg irl name reveal?? crazy )

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reidmarieprentiss · 2 months ago

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Lost in Translation: Prologue

Summary: A college student (reader) forms a deep bond with a young professor, Spencer Reid, over weekly study sessions in the library. After months of building a friendship, they share a night together, only for the student to be left alone, Spencer gone without a word.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, backstory, mild smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: non-descriptive smut (18+), talks of sex, alcohol, professor/student relationship (but it's Spencer and he's 18 like his students), being used for sex, loss of virginity, (un)requited feelings, no happy ending for this part

Word count: 8.6k

a/n: new story just dropped lol -- wrote so fucking fast and not edited at all sorryyyy

main masterlist part one part two part three part four

Being a wonder kid, Spencer Reid’s youth was one of isolation. Growing up too young, too smart, too awkward—too everything to really fit in—made life difficult. He navigated a world where his intelligence placed him far beyond his peers, yet his age kept him at arm’s length from those who might understand him better. It wasn’t until he began teaching an engineering course while working on his PhD at eighteen that he finally felt a flicker of that belonging.

Standing in front of an auditorium full of undergraduates, Spencer finally experienced something akin to acceptance. The students, many only a few years older than him, loved the fresh, youthful energy he brought to their 8 a.m. class. For the first time, they weren’t learning from a middle-aged professor droning on about equations but from someone who felt like one of them. Spencer’s lectures were passionate, and he brought concepts to life in ways that made the subject not only digestible but genuinely fun.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome either; that soft hair, those gentle brown eyes framed by glasses, and the earnest way he smiled—all of it made more than a few students swoon over him at one point or another. Spencer, of course, remained oblivious to the dreamy stares and flirtatious comments.

Despite his newfound sense of belonging in the classroom, Spencer didn’t really hang out with anyone. He remained somewhat of an enigma—attending his own study groups, tutoring off and on, and sometimes grabbing lunch with faculty who treated him more like an adorable novelty than a colleague. He was used to it by then, that feeling of floating in between worlds.

But one day, after a particularly engaging lecture on applied mechanics, a student named Jasper approached him. Jasper was bold, with a confident walk and a grin that suggested they weren’t afraid to push boundaries. “Hey, Professor Reid,” they said casually, leaning against the edge of the lecture podium.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Spencer replied, caught slightly off guard as he scrambled to gather his things. He was never quite sure how to handle the one-on-one interactions with students that felt too friendly, too casual. “Did you have a question about the lecture?”

Jasper laughed and shook their head. “No, actually, I was just thinking... Me and my roommates are throwing a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d wanna come? You know, kick back, meet some people... No physics or equations, promise.”

Spencer blinked, processing the invitation like a computer struggling to boot up. A party? With students? It felt... like an odd concept, but one that piqued his interest in a way nothing had before. He’d never really had a social invitation like this—especially not one involving people close to his own age. The idea was exhilarating, and for a moment, Spencer could almost feel what it might be like to be just another young adult, rather than the kid-genius-teacher everyone knew him as.

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes lit up, his grin boyish and genuine. “That sounds great, actually! Should I, um... should I bring anything? Snacks? Drinks? I can... figure something out.”

Jasper shook their head, laughter spilling out at how adorably sincere he was being. “No, no, don’t worry about it,” they said, waving off his concern. “Just bring yourself, cutie.” With a teasing wink and a quick flick of their wrist, they slipped a small note with their address into Spencer’s hands. And then, with that same confident stride, Jasper turned and walked away, leaving Spencer to stand there, flushed and stunned, staring down at the address in his palm like it was some secret code to a new world he’d been waiting forever to explore.

—

Spencer stood outside the house, his nerves and excitement mingling as he took in the scene. The address Jasper had given him led him to a lively place: music thumping loudly enough to rattle the windows, laughter spilling out through the open front door, and the warm glow of lights casting playful shadows on the lawn. People were milling around everywhere—huddled in small circles, raising drinks to one another, dancing, and talking loudly over the music. It was the kind of scene Spencer had seen in movies but never really experienced in real life.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and stepped inside. He immediately felt out of place in his neat button-down shirt and slacks, compared to the casual party attire of those around him. But he was here, and he was determined to enjoy it. As he made his way through the crowded entryway, Spencer's eyes were wide, absorbing every detail—the smell of popcorn and alcohol mixing in the air, the flashing lights, the loud music, and the laughter. He weaved through groups of students, dodging stray elbows and trying to make eye contact with anyone who might seem familiar.

However, after a few failed attempts at small talk and realizing that almost everyone he knew was either preoccupied or didn’t recognize him outside the classroom setting, Spencer’s excitement dimmed a bit. He found himself gravitating towards a quieter corner of the living room, eventually sinking into the soft, worn leather of a couch, trying to look relaxed but not too out of place. He sat there, half-heartedly holding a cup of soda someone had pressed into his hand earlier, unsure of what to do next. Every now and then, a familiar face would pass by, and he’d offer a polite wave or smile, but nothing stuck.

The longer he sat, the more he felt like an observer looking through glass, disconnected from the easy laughter and carefree movements around him. He sighed inwardly, wondering if coming to this party was such a great idea after all. But as he settled back into his seat, he heard an enthusiastic voice shout above the noise.

“Professor Reid!”

He barely had time to look up before Jasper dropped down beside him on the couch, their presence as warm and electrifying as a flash of lightning. They were so close that the entire side of their body pressed against Spencer's, hip to shoulder, the sudden contact sending a warm jolt through his skin. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice louder than usual to be heard over the music but still tinged with that inherent awkwardness that never quite left him in social situations. He noticed the slight flush in Jasper’s cheeks, their eyes bright and relaxed from the party vibe.

“I thought you were gonna be a no-show,” Jasper teased, leaning in so that their mouth was close to Spencer's ear, their voice buzzing through him. “You seemed kinda nervous when I invited you.”

“N-no, not at all!” Spencer said quickly, though his laugh betrayed his nerves. “I was... just... you know, trying to, uh, soak it all in.”

“Well,” Jasper drawled, dragging out the word like they were savoring it, “now that you're here, we should make sure you have a good time. Can’t have my favorite professor looking all lonely in the corner.” They flashed him that teasing smile, the one that Spencer had come to recognize as Jasper's signature charm, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the crowded room and the strangers dancing around him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a bit more relaxed, the warmth from Jasper’s touch making the party seem a little less intimidating. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That night, Spencer had no idea how things would unfold. What started as casual chatter on that couch quickly transformed into something more charged, more intimate. Jasper had a way of making Spencer feel seen—really seen—and as they talked, leaning into each other, the lines between conversation and flirtation blurred until they no longer existed at all. Eventually, the touches grew longer, more intentional, and Spencer felt his breath catch when Jasper’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

It was Spencer’s first kiss, and it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. He was clumsy at first, feeling every ounce of his inexperience and fearing that he was doing everything wrong. But Jasper was patient, guiding him with slow, teasing movements until Spencer’s hesitations melted into something fervent and desperate. They broke apart, breathless and flushed, and before he knew it, Jasper was pulling him up, leading him through the crowded party, down a narrow hallway, and into a bedroom.

There, it happened—the fumbling of clothes, the whispered instructions and reassurances. Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the nerves and adrenaline mixing with a primal kind of desire he’d never felt before. Jasper seemed to know exactly what they were doing, leading and coaxing Spencer through the motions, and for once, he wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t caught in the spiral of his own mind. He let go, lost in the sensations of touch, taste, and pleasure as he experienced intimacy for the first time.

When it was over, Spencer lay on his back, panting, feeling a mix of awe and disbelief wash over him. He was almost scared to speak, to ask what this all meant. But before he could say anything, Jasper sat up and smiled, giving Spencer a quick, almost dismissive pat on the arm.

“That was fun, Professor,” Jasper said with a playful grin that lacked the intimacy they'd shared moments before. “But I’m gonna get some sleep now. Thanks for, you know, joining in on the fun tonight.”

Spencer sat up, a little dazed and trying to process the sudden shift. He nodded, feeling a strange lump in his throat, and muttered a soft, “Yeah, sure. Thanks... for inviting me.” There was no animosity in Jasper’s tone, but it was clear the night had come to its end. Spencer gathered his clothes, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the room, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts. He walked through the party once more, though he felt almost invisible now, slipping out the front door into the cool night air.

The next class was excruciatingly awkward for Spencer. He’d gone over the lecture material several times, but nothing could prepare him for the moment when Jasper walked in, took a seat right in the middle of the room, and gave him an easy smile like nothing had happened. Spencer struggled to maintain eye contact and found himself stumbling over his words more than usual. He felt exposed, raw, like everyone in that room somehow knew what had happened between them.

But Jasper was unbothered, unfazed—completely casual. It was as if that night was just another blip on their radar, a moment to be shared and then forgotten. And perhaps that was the point. As the days went on, Spencer realized that to Jasper, and probably to many others, it was just another night—no strings, no lingering feelings, just a moment of pleasure and then moving on.

The realization was strange for Spencer. He couldn't help but question if that was just what sex was—casual, meaningless, but a great way to blow off steam. It felt anticlimactic to think that something so intimate was treated so carelessly, but maybe that was the reality. For all his intellect, this was an area Spencer had little experience in, and he found himself trying to adjust to this new perspective. Maybe this was just the way people did things, and maybe that night with Jasper was simply the start of understanding what it meant to live a life that wasn’t dictated by equations or theories, but by messy, imperfect human experiences.

—

The library was packed with students hunched over textbooks, fingers flying across keyboards, and whispered conversations about study guides. You were already on edge, the stress of your final exam making every little noise seem louder, every empty table harder to find. You hugged your books to your chest, eyes darting around for any free spot, your mind already buried in the formulas and concepts you needed to cram before tomorrow.

Then, without warning, you collided with a solid body as you turned a corner. Your books tumbled out of your grip, scattering across the polished floor. “Shit!” you blurted out, the curse escaping before you could hold it back. “Sorry!” You dropped down immediately to pick up your books, your face burning with embarrassment.

Just as you did, so did the person you’d run into, and the next thing you knew, there was a dull thud as your foreheads collided with a painful smack. You jerked back, clutching your head, eyes watering from the sudden sharp sting.

“Ow,” the guy groaned, rubbing his forehead. He winced, but there was a hint of a laugh behind the pain, a softness in his voice that made your embarrassment double.

“Fuck, my bad,” you stammered, feeling utterly mortified. “I’m so clumsy.”

The guy chuckled lightly, standing back up as he brushed off his pants. “Me too, it’s alright,” he said. As you looked up, you finally saw who you’d bumped into.

It was him. Professor Reid—the young genius who everyone in your classes seemed to talk about, with rumors that swirled around him like leaves in a storm. The eighteen-year-old PhD who made engineering sound sexy, apparently both in his lectures and in the beds of the more... adventurous students. You’d heard more than one friend gush about how he'd helped them understand a complicated theory in more ways than one, their whispers tinged with admiration and amusement.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, all tousled curls, warm hazel eyes, and that slightly awkward but undeniably charming smile. The closeness made you realize how tall he was, his lean frame towering over you. You felt a rush of heat creep down your neck, spreading across your skin like wildfire. You’d seen him from afar, of course—catching glimpses of him in lecture halls or around campus—but never up close like this, and he was... so much prettier than you’d expected.

“Are... are you okay?” Professor Reid asked, still rubbing his head but looking at you with a concern that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, grabbing the books you'd dropped before handing them to you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping your books tightly, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was now tingling where he’d touched it. “I just... wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted, his smile widening a little as he looked at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I guess we're both guilty.”

“Yeah, guess so,” you said, forcing a laugh. God, why was it so hard to speak right now? You mentally cursed yourself for being so flustered. You quickly glanced around, realizing that most of the tables were still full, and suddenly it dawned on you that there were no available places to sit... except for the table behind him.

“Um... do you—do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, gesturing to the table he’d just been standing beside.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the table and then at you, a strange look crossing his face like he was trying to figure something out. Then, with that same awkward but genuine smile, he nodded. “Yeah, of course. It's all yours.”

You thanked him quietly, moving to the chair and settling down, but as you did, you couldn't help but steal another glance at him—those curls falling just right, his long fingers thumbing through his notes as he lingered nearby. And as you opened your books, pretending to focus on studying, you couldn't stop sneaking glances at the very attractive, young professor.

The hour that followed was filled with the gentle rustle of pages turning, pens scratching against paper, and the occasional cough or whisper from other students scattered around the library. But you couldn’t concentrate, not really. Your eyes kept drifting up from your notes to the table across from you, where Professor Reid sat hunched over his books, his focus so intense that you wondered what on earth he could be doing. Every now and then, your gazes would accidentally meet, and you’d look away quickly, your cheeks heating up as if you'd been caught doing something wrong.

You were in the middle of re-reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when you heard his voice break the silence between you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began, the soft tone of his voice instantly grabbing your attention, “what course are you studying for?”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. He was looking at you curiously, genuinely interested, and his expression was kind, almost encouraging. You tucked a stray hair behind your ear and cleared your throat, trying not to let your voice shake as you replied, “Oh, uh, architecture. I’m studying for an exam... final one of the semester.”

“Architecture!” Spencer’s face lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. It was like you’d just told him the most fascinating thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed so genuinely enthusiastic. “That’s great! I’ve always thought architecture was such a beautiful blend of art and science—it’s like engineering for the soul, you know? There’s so much math involved, but it’s all to create something tangible, something that can change the way people experience space. And the way architecture has evolved over time? It’s like a living timeline of human innovation!”

He continued to ramble, moving from modern skyscrapers to the ancient marvels of Rome, describing the symmetry of cathedrals and the beauty of brutalism. The passion in his voice made every word seem like a story, and you sat there, leaning your chin on your hand, utterly captivated by the way he spoke. It was clear he loved to share knowledge, to connect different ideas, to see how everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

You found yourself smiling wider and wider, nodding along as he spoke, absorbing everything he said not because you needed to know it for your exam, but because he made it all sound so alive.

“Sorry,” he said suddenly, laughing softly as he realized he’d been talking nonstop for quite a while. He leaned back in his chair, a slight flush in his cheeks. “I tend to... ramble a bit. Especially when it’s something interesting. I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“Not at all,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Actually... I liked listening to you.”

He seemed surprised by that, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes and offering a shy smile. “You, um... you make it all sound really exciting. It’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, the kind that lingered like a shared secret. You wanted to say more, to keep the conversation going, to ask him about the things he was passionate about. But before you could find the right words, Spencer glanced down at his watch and began gathering his books.

“I, uh, should get going,” he said, a slight note of regret in his voice. “Lots of things to prepare for—classes and, um... you know, life things.” He gave an awkward laugh, and slung his bag over his shoulder, pausing for a moment as if he were about to say something else, but then just smiled instead. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and casual, despite the fact that your heart was pounding harder than it should have been. He nodded, gave you one last shy smile, and turned to leave, weaving through the tables and shelves of books until he disappeared from view.

You watched him go, the way he held himself with that slight awkwardness, his long stride taking him quickly out of the library. And as soon as he was gone, you slumped back in your chair, letting out a breath.

For a fleeting moment, you felt hopeful that you might run into him again, that maybe you’d have another one of those conversations that felt easy and exciting all at once. But then you remembered the stories—the whispers about how Professor Reid often slept with students, how it was no big deal to him, just casual fun. And suddenly, you felt foolish for reading anything more into his friendliness. What if he’d only started talking to you because he was trying to woo you into bed?

You couldn’t deny that he was attractive—very attractive—but if all he saw in you was another potential fling, then maybe it was better not to get your hopes up. After all, Spencer Reid wasn’t like other guys. He was brilliant, handsome, and, from what you’d heard, had more than his share of admirers. You shook your head, trying to brush away the pang of disappointment and return your focus to your notes.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake the image of his warm smile or the sound of his voice. And a part of you—just a small part—hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Spencer Reid than the rumors said.

—

You were rushing, nerves jangling through your body like alarm bells. You were running late—really late—and all you could think about was getting to your exam on time. In your panic, you didn’t see the corner coming, your eyes glued to your watch as you cursed yourself for oversleeping. You rounded the bend with way too much speed, and before you could react, you collided hard into someone else. The force knocked you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground, your books and papers flying in a wild scatter across the floor.

“Oh my!” came a startled voice. “I am so, so sorry, I was just looking for—oh, hi.”

You winced as you propped yourself up on your elbows, but the moment you looked up, your heart sank and soared all at once. There, standing over you, was none other than Professor Reid. He was staring down at you with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern, and his mouth opened as if he wasn't sure whether to apologize or help you up first.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to get back up, your face flushing hot. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just—”

“No, no, please, don’t apologize,” Spencer said quickly, his voice soft but urgent as he bent down to your level. “That was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention either.” He reached out to help you up, his hands gentle as he grasped your arm and steadied you, making sure you didn’t trip over yourself as you stood. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes darting over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “I didn’t, um... hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” you said, though you could feel your whole body tingling from where he touched you, the warmth of his hand lingering even as he let go. You brushed off your pants, trying to regain any semblance of composure despite the fact that you were now not only late but completely flustered.

Spencer began gathering your scattered books and papers, handing them to you with the same focused attention he gave to everything else. He was quick, efficient, but still careful, making sure to line up the pages neatly before passing them back into your hands. “Here you go,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “You, um... dropped a few things.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the books from him and clutching them to your chest. And then you remembered. “Oh my God, my exam!” You looked at your watch again, the numbers glaring back at you as if taunting your lateness. “I... I have to go, I’m so sorry, Professor Reid, but I really need to—”

“Wait, wait,” Spencer interrupted, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes. “Is it in the main lecture hall? The big one across campus?”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “I have, like, five minutes to get there or I'm screwed.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” he said, a determined smile breaking across his face. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

“Y-you don’t have to do that, I mean—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Spencer insisted, already starting to lead the way. “I’m heading that direction anyway.” You both knew that wasn’t true but then, with a quick glance back at you, he added, “Besides, it’s the least I can do after, you know... knocking you over.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat, despite the chaos of the moment. “Okay, thanks,” you said, falling into step beside him. It was a strange, surreal thing—running across campus with Professor Reid at your side, his long legs matching your frantic pace. And even though you were still panicking about being late, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, like the whole situation was slightly less catastrophic just because he was there.

“Don’t worry,” he said between breaths, casting a reassuring glance your way as you both hurried down the path. “You’ll make it. I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

You made it to your exam with barely a minute to spare, heart still racing from sprinting across campus and the whirlwind encounter with Professor Reid. As you settled into your seat, your mind was a jumbled mess of nerves, exhaustion, and the lingering thrill of having Spencer Reid rush beside you, determined to get you there on time. The reality of having bumped into him—literally—and seeing his concerned, handsome face up close again was a distraction you struggled to push away. But as the exam papers were passed out and you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, you felt a small swell of determination rising within you.

It wasn’t just about passing the exam anymore. No, it was about doing well—really well—because a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d run into Professor Reid again. And if you did, and if he asked you how your exam had gone, you wanted to be able to look him in those warm, interested eyes and say, “I crushed it.”

And so you put everything into it. Every formula, every theory, every bit of knowledge you’d crammed into your brain over the past few weeks. The hours passed in a blur of scribbled answers and focused thought, and by the time you handed in your paper, you felt a surge of pride and relief. You knew you’d done your best—maybe even better than your best.

—

The new term had settled into a predictable rhythm for you: classes in the morning, work in the afternoons, and then hours spent in the library for some uninterrupted study time. By the third week, you found a comforting routine in the silence and solitude of your favorite corner, tucked away but not too far from the bustle of the main floor. It was your place to dive into note-taking, to tackle assignments, and to escape from the chaos of student life. And though your schedule was tiring, there was something satisfying about the repetition—class, work, library, sleep, repeat.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and you were in the thick of your study session, textbooks spread across the table, fingers tapping absently against your highlighter as you scanned the pages. You were deep into a chapter on sustainable building design when a shadow fell over your table, and you heard a voice.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was, but the confirmation was still enough to make your heart skip a beat. Professor Reid stood there with that same friendly, slightly awkward smile, his bag slung over his shoulder and a stack of books in his arms.

“Professor Reid,” you greeted with a smile of your own, trying not to let on how quickly your pulse was racing. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes crinkling in that gentle way as he pulled out the chair across from you. He sat down, settling his things on the table with a soft thud, and for a moment, you were both just... there, in the kind of companionable silence that libraries are made for. Spencer pulled out his own work, a notebook and a pile of papers, and began arranging them neatly before him, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of a binder.

“Preparing for midterms?” he asked after a moment, glancing up at you with a tilt of his head, genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” you sighed, giving a little shrug as you gestured to your scattered materials. “Trying to get ahead, make sure I don’t fall behind. You know how it is.”

“I do,” he laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the open book in front of you. “I’m writing one, actually. One of the joys of being on the other side of the classroom.”

“Wow,” you said, the laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. “That... actually sounds like way more pressure than taking one.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted, a lighthearted grin playing on his lips. “I always end up overthinking it, trying to make the questions fair but challenging, relevant but not too obscure. It’s like creating a puzzle that someone’s actually going to solve.”

You nodded along, smiling at how earnest he was. “That sounds... kind of like how I feel about taking exams, actually. Trying to solve the puzzle without knowing if you even have all the right pieces.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up as he considered that. “Exactly,” he said, like he’d never thought of it that way before. “It’s a lot like that. But the fun part is watching the different ways people solve it, the different approaches and interpretations. It’s... fascinating, really.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch him, his hands moving expressively as he talked, the way he was so animated about his work. You’d heard him lecture from afar, but this—this was different. There was something more intimate about being across from him like this, sharing space, sharing thoughts.

You smiled, leaning forward a bit. “Sounds like you really enjoy it.”

“I do,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It’s nice to be able to help people understand things, to make learning something enjoyable instead of a chore.”

You nodded, and for a while, the two of you sat there, working side by side, an unspoken connection forming over the shared silence and occasional exchanges. And though you were both absorbed in your own work, you knew now that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves at the same table, sharing the same quiet space amidst the noise of college life.

Every Thursday for the rest of the term, your routine became intertwined with Spencer’s. You’d meet in your usual spot in the library, setting up your notes and books, and he'd arrive not long after, dropping into the chair across from you like he belonged there. And for hours, you’d sit together—sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes falling into deep conversations about classes, life, and everything in between. It was almost comical when, after weeks of these meetings, he finally looked up at you, eyes wide with realization, and laughed softly.

“You know,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I don’t think I ever asked you your name.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, blurting it out in a rush, and he repeated it back to you like he was savoring the sound of it. And just like that, something clicked into place. He’d ask about your exams, your grades, always genuinely interested in how you were doing. You, in turn, asked about his lectures and the classes he was teaching, and he would share his thoughts on the challenges of balancing students’ needs, all with that passion and depth you had come to expect from him.

Your friendship blossomed, but it was always contained to those Thursday evenings at the library. It was a boundary neither of you seemed to cross—studying together, talking, connecting, but never making plans outside of the walls of academia. And that was fine, for a time. But as the end of your freshman year loomed closer and summer break approached, the thought of leaving and not seeing Spencer every week weighed on you more than you’d expected.

One Thursday, when you could barely focus on your notes because of it, you found yourself fidgeting, chewing on your pen cap as you tried to summon the courage to speak. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice quiet over the hum of the library around you.

“Mhm?” he responded, not looking up from the papers he was reading through but giving a small nod to show he was listening.

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up, but pushed through. “Would you, um, want to come over after exams end? You know, to... say goodbye to the year?”

Spencer paused, his pen freezing mid-note, and he looked up, surprise flashing across his features. He hadn’t expected that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered your offer. The idea of spending time together outside the library, beyond your weekly tradition, was both tempting and concerning for him. He’d grown fond of your friendship, of the way you made him laugh and didn’t expect anything from him except a shared space and genuine conversation. But, deep down, a part of him still feared being used like so many others had.

Yet, there was something earnest in your eyes, something that made him think maybe, just maybe, you really did just want to hang out. To be friends, and nothing more. He let out a small breath, nodding slowly. “Sure,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you hoped the heat wasn’t too obvious as you scratched the back of your neck, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Uh, I didn’t plan that far ahead,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “Maybe... a movie? Just something casual.”

“Casual,” he repeated, almost as if testing the word out, and then his smile widened, a bit of relief and something like excitement brightening his eyes. “Yeah. A movie sounds good.”

And just like that, you found yourself looking forward to what might be the start of something new—something beyond Thursday study sessions, something more than a quiet routine.

The Friday after final exams, you paced your dorm room, nerves buzzing through you like electricity. You'd barely slept since inviting Spencer over—second-guessing every detail, every word you’d said. But now, as you checked your phone again, you reminded yourself that it was just a movie, just two friends hanging out to say goodbye to the year. Nothing more. You tried to convince yourself that it was normal to be this excited.

And right on time—exactly at 7 p.m.—you heard a knock at your door. Spencer's punctuality didn’t surprise you, but it did send a rush of excitement through your veins. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before walking over to the door and opening it.

There he stood, dressed in casual jeans and a plain button-up shirt, looking somehow both effortlessly put together and adorably uncertain all at once. His curls were a bit messy, his glasses slightly askew, and he clutched a bag of something in his hands, which he immediately offered up to you with a slightly bashful smile.

“Um, I wasn’t sure if I should bring something, so I, uh, brought snacks?” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. You could see a mix of candy, chips, and a few other treats inside.

You grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you—that’s perfect.” You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he stepped into your room, glancing around with curious eyes as he took in the posters on the wall, the books scattered on your desk, the remnants of your rushed packing for summer break.

“Your roommate left already?” he asked, looking over at the other, empty half of the room.

“Yeah, they went home the day after finals,” you said, trying not to sound too relieved about having the room to yourself. “So it’s just us.”

“Just us,” Spencer repeated, the words hanging in the air with a nervous tinge in his voice. He smiled softly and set the bag of snacks on your bed, taking off his shoes and settling in as if he were almost comfortable—almost.

“So,” you began, moving to sit beside him, your nerves starting to subside as you relaxed into the familiar presence of your study partner turned friend. “I thought we could just pick something light to watch, you know? Nothing too serious.”

“Light sounds good,” Spencer nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, there was that playful glimmer in his eyes—the same one you’d seen during your library sessions, when a joke or comment would catch him off guard.

You leaned forward to pick up the remote, scrolling through the options until you landed on a few comedies and light-hearted movies. You tossed out a few suggestions, and eventually, the two of you settled on a movie neither of you had seen before—some easygoing, feel-good flick that you knew would make you both laugh and not require too much thinking. You hit play, and as the opening credits rolled, you sank back into the pillows, side by side with Spencer.

There was a comforting quiet between you, a sense of familiarity even in the newness of the situation. And as the movie played and the two of you slowly started sharing the snacks he’d brought, laughing at the jokes on-screen, you felt that same feeling you always did on Thursday nights—the calm certainty that, somehow, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The movie had been on for about thirty minutes, and both of you were already lost in the silly over-the-top humor. It wasn’t long before the playful energy from the screen found its way into your own conversation, and you couldn’t resist teasing Spencer a little every time he laughed at something you found particularly cheesy.

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually laughing at this. I thought you had... you know, a refined sense of humor.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I can appreciate a good joke, okay? Even the dumb ones. It’s called versatility,” he said, giving you a sidelong glance before popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you said, leaning closer as if you were about to share a secret. “You’re just pretending to like it so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

He chuckled, turning to face you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as his knee bumped lightly against yours. “Trust me,” he said, voice low with that familiar teasing lilt, “I’m not pretending. I genuinely think this movie is... absurdly entertaining.”

“Absurdly entertaining, huh?” you said, narrowing your eyes as you leaned in just a little more, close enough to see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. “I think that’s code for ‘terrible but in a fun way.’”

“Okay, maybe it is a little terrible,” he admitted, laughing openly now. “But in the best way.”

The lightness in his voice, the ease with which you bantered—it felt effortless. And then, suddenly, there was a shift. His laughter trailed off as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a beat longer than usual. Your faces were so close, your knees brushing, your shoulders almost touching, and you noticed the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to decide something.

Spencer’s mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to flirt, to let the playful banter turn into something more, but a voice in his head reminded him of past experiences—where interest in him was just a prelude to sex, a quick thrill before moving on. He didn’t want that with you. You were different—kind, genuine, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had by crossing a line.

And ever since meeting you, Spencer hadn’t slept with anyone. Your study sessions, conversations, and simple presence filled a void in him; being around you was all the release he needed. Now, sitting beside you, he just wanted to keep this intact, afraid that taking a step further might shatter what he cherished so much.

Little did Spencer know, your own thoughts were tangled with doubt. You'd been excited for this night ever since he said yes, but now, sitting so close to him, you wondered if he'd only come over for the same reason he might have gone to others in the past: sex.

The whispers around campus about Professor Reid’s quick, casual flings were hard to ignore. Reconciling that with the sweet, earnest man beside you felt impossible, but still, the thought gnawed at you. What if, to him, you were just another fleeting encounter before summer ended?

You wanted to believe that your Thursday study sessions meant more than a prelude to something casual, but the worry hung there, making your hand pause before reaching for the snacks. What if you were misreading everything? And if this was just casual to him, could you handle it, or would you rather preserve what you had now?

You glanced at Spencer, who was focused on the movie but stealing nervous glances your way. It was clear he was treading carefully, and you could feel the irony—both of you caught on the edge, too afraid to find out what the other truly wanted.

When the movie ended, the credits rolling silently on the screen, neither of you moved to turn it off or get up. There was an unspoken tension in the room, a pull that made it hard for either of you to suggest that this night should end.

“Do you want to watch another movie?” you blurted out just as Spencer said, “I really like hanging out with you.”

You both paused, your words colliding mid-air, and then burst into laughter. It was awkward, sure, but it was the kind of awkward that felt endearing, pulling you closer instead of apart. The kind that made you grateful for the comfortable silence that followed, where you both sat smiling like fools.

“Another movie sounds great,” he said, the grin on his face not fading, and you nodded in agreement. You both took a break—stretching, refreshing snacks, and using the restroom. When you returned to your dorm room, you found Spencer sitting more toward the middle of your bed, and when you slid in next to him, your bodies ended up pressed tightly together, the heat of his side warming yours through your clothes. You were hyper-aware of every place where you touched, but neither of you pulled away.

“Your turn to pick,” you said softly, handing him the laptop.

Spencer flipped through the options with focused eyes, and finally, he settled on a film—a foreign romance, its title scrolling across the screen in delicate script. You raised an eyebrow, curious but also a little lost. “Spencer,” you said, trying not to sound too nervous, “I, uh, don’t speak French.”

His eyes met yours, and this time, the way he looked at you was different—more intense, like he was seeing something in you that hadn’t been spoken aloud. It sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and almost intimate. “I can whisper translate for you... if you don’t mind.”

The idea of Spencer leaning in close, his voice softly whispering translations in your ear as romantic lines played out on the screen, made your heart race in a way you couldn't control. You could practically feel his breath on your neck already, the warmth of his words settling into your skin.

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching on your lips as you tried to keep your composure.

You pressed play, and as the opening scene unfolded, you found yourself sinking deeper into the bed, Spencer’s body comfortably close to yours, and your heart pounding in anticipation of every word he would breathe into the small space between you.

The movie’s soft music and dreamy cinematography made it easy to get lost in its world, but it was Spencer’s voice—low, rich, and soothing—that anchored you. He leaned in, and his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered the translation, his tone low and almost reverent.

“Élise tells her...” he began, his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket, “‘When I'm near you... everything disappears. The whole world, the sounds, time... there's only you and me.’”

The words hung in the air, and your senses were drawn to the way his lips moved against you as he concentrated on the words. You couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the way he brought the romance to life, the intensity in his whisper making your skin tingle with every syllable.

“Juliet replies...” he continued, not yet noticing how your attention was fully on him now. “‘You are the reason I breathe, Élise. Every beat of my heart... it whispers your name. If I could, I would spend every second of my life looking at you.’”

And that’s exactly what you did now—look at him. His eyes were still on the screen, but there was something in his expression that felt vulnerable, open, as if he wasn’t just translating lines, but baring something deeper, something unspoken between you. You couldn’t resist leaning in just a little closer, every inch of your body hyper-aware of the closeness between you.

“‘Then look at me... and never let me go,’” he whispered, and when he finally turned to meet your gaze, the intensity in his eyes nearly took your breath away. His voice was softer, more intimate, as if he was no longer speaking for the movie characters but for the two of you alone. “‘Because without you, I'm lost. You are my everything.’”

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you stared at each other, your faces so close now that you could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the way his breath came out just a bit more quickly. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the hesitation in them, the question he didn’t dare ask.

“‘I promise you... never, ever will I let you go,’” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his lips only a breath away. “‘Because I love you... more than anything in the world.’”

Neither of you moved, frozen in that charged space between a word and a touch, every part of you yearning to close the gap as the rest of the world fell away.

The words hung in the air, your shared gaze brimming with something unspoken and heavy. And then, as if on cue, both of you turned your eyes back to the screen, where Élise and Juliet leaned in, their faces close, the tension snapping as they fell into a deep, passionate kiss. The soft sounds of the movie filled the silence between you.

“Do you want me to translate that?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm on your cheek. The words were teasing but tentative, laced with a hope that sent a shiver down your spine.

But before he could say anything more, before you could second-guess the pounding of your heart, you closed the space between you. Your lips met his in a sudden, breathless kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The taste of him, soft and warm, was everything you had imagined it would be. You felt Spencer’s sharp inhale, the surprise in his body, but then he melted into you, his mouth moving against yours like it was something he'd been waiting for all along.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gentle but sure, pulling you closer, and the world disappeared—just like Élise had whispered—leaving only you and him in the electrifying moment of finally letting go.

Deep down, both of you felt that nagging worry—was this just a fleeting moment, a one-time thing? But as your lips moved together, those thoughts slipped away, overwhelmed by the heat of the moment, the desperation in every kiss and touch. Spencer laid you back gently, his hands trembling slightly as he held you, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted to stop. But there was only desire and your verbal confirmation, and so he continued, showing you the skills he’d learned over the past year.

And when the clothes were shed and the vulnerability became all-consuming, you allowed him to take your virginity, holding back that delicate truth out of embarrassment over your own inexperience. You didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to add more pressure to a moment already so fragile and important to you both. Spencer, in turn, treated you with a reverence that spoke to his genuine care, his every touch slow and deliberate, like he was savoring each second.

It was the most passionate, mind-blowing experience Spencer had ever had. Every gasp, every whispered name, every shared look made it clear why—it was you, and it felt like something more than just sex, something deeper, like he was baring his soul alongside his body. When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together, hearts still racing, bodies wrapped around each other like you could hold the moment in place forever. And in that perfect silence, Spencer’s arms became a haven, and you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, happy, and loved.

But morning came like a cold shock. You reached out across the bed, seeking his warmth, and found only emptiness. The sheets were cool, and Spencer was gone—no note, no sign of him ever having been there. The joy, the love, the comfort you’d fallen asleep to vanished with the sunrise, leaving behind an aching emptiness and the haunting fear that maybe all your doubts were true.

—

Summer came and went, and though the days were warm and filled with distractions, nothing eased the emptiness Spencer left behind. The pain of waking up to find him gone never faded, and as you returned to campus for your sophomore year, the ache of his absence settled in deeper, an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

You looked for him—hoping to see that familiar face in the library, in a lecture hall, anywhere on campus—but every search ended in disappointment. It was like he’d vanished, leaving not a trace behind. Over the next three years, you went through the motions, diving into your studies and trying to let go of what happened, but the memory of him never left, haunting every quiet moment and making you wonder what you'd done wrong.

The truth was clear to you now: Spencer had used you, filling some void in himself for one night, and then disappearing, leaving a much larger void in your own heart.

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