hiiii!! i LOVE ur fics so mucchh and lowkey felt shy to dump my very vivid and detailed request lmao 🤣 i just thought of a random blurb bc i’m in my feels from reading angst and hurt/comfort, but can you do a fic of angst (ending happy/fluff) with ace x y/n? y/n and him are together on whitebeard’s crew and they got into an argument and stuff when they landed on an island to get supplies and chaos erupts when the marines arrive. their argument hasn’t been resolved but everyone is obviously occupied in getting back to the ship and fighting to escape. ANYWAYS y/n was actually their target and captured her bc she is actually a powerful fighter with a fruit that could be useful to them (idk u pick lol something that’s important as robin-level where it’s vital they retrieve her like idk her fruit can read any script i.e. poneglyphs yadda yadda). and then when the crew depart and do a headcount they realize one member is missing (womp womp) and ace gonna go FERAL to get her back and digging that knife of regret of saying hurtful things during their unresolved argument and cutscene to y/n getting beat tf up like how robin was beat up in water 7 from that mf spandam when imprisoned. OUHHH AND IMAGINE ACE’S REACTION WHEN HE SEES THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE ALMOST DEAD TO A PULP AND COMMITS ARSON and ends happily with y/n back and recovering and them finally resolving their arguement (cue: fluff). tl:dr basically an ace x y/n centered fic in a water 7-type scenario. IM A VERY ACTIVE MALADAPTIVE DAYDREAMER AND I NEED TO BE FED (tysm if u take on this request lmao ik it’s so detailed i hope it’s not too much i’m just itching for more one piece fics and i love ur work) 😭🫶🏼
Embers of Regret
portgas d. ace x reader
a/n: the more detailed a request is, the easier it is to write the fanfic, so don't worry—I actually appreciate it a lot! \^o^/
words count: 4.7k
tags: violence, romance, angst to fluff
masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi
“You never think, Ace!”
“And you never let things go!”
The argument has been boiling for days, maybe even weeks, but now it’s all spilling over in the middle of the town square, where the crew is supposed to be stocking up on supplies. The streets are noisy with merchants and villagers, but to you and Ace, it may as well be just the two of you standing here, tearing each other apart.
“You act like nothing matters!” you snap, glaring at him.
Ace crosses his arms, irritation flashing in his dark eyes “And you act like everything does!”
“Because it does!” You throw your hands up “This crew, the people we care about, you—none of it is guaranteed, Ace! But you just charge ahead without thinking, like you’re invincible, like nothing can touch you!”
“I can handle myself” he says, jaw tightening.
You shake your head, frustration clawing at your throat “That’s the problem! You think it’s just about you, but it’s not! We... I care about what happens to you!”
Ace scoffs “Right. Because you love worrying so damn much. Maybe you should focus on your own fights instead of wasting time on mine.”
The words cut deep as your breath catches.
You shake your head, frustration boiling over “You act like nothing can touch you... but newsflash, Ace, you’re not invincible! One day, you’re gonna get yourself killed, and—”
He scoffs, cutting you off “And what? You’ll cry about it?”
You freeze.
The air shifts.
Ace seems to realize what he just said, but his pride keeps him from taking it back. The damage is done.
You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to push down the sting “Got it,” you say flatly “You don’t need me watching your back or even care about your damn life. Noted.”
Before he can respond, you turn and walk away.
Ace watches you go, his fists clenched. He should call after you. Should apologize. But he doesn’t.
Then the Marines come fast and hard, hitting the town before anyone even realizes what’s happening.
Civilians scatter as armed soldiers flood the streets, and the Whitebeard Pirates instantly snap into battle mode. Marco takes to the skies, Thatch barks orders, and Ace ignites.
He fights like he always does, fast and reckless, flames cutting through the chaos. But his mind keeps drifting, eyes flicking toward the battlefield, searching for you.
He sees you in the distance, fighting off a wave of Marines. You’re holding your own. Of course you are.
And then someone shouts “Retreat to the ship!”
The command echoes through the town, and the crew begins pulling back toward the harbor. Ace doesn’t see you right away, but he assumes you’re moving with the others. You’re strong. You can handle yourself.
He fights. He runs. He gets to the ship.
And he doesn’t notice. Not yet.
The Moby Dick sails away from the island, the battle fading into the distance. Everyone is breathing hard, wounded but alive. The crew takes a moment to regroup, catching their breath, tending to injuries.
Then Marco speaks.
“Alright,” he says, rolling his shoulders “Let’s do a count.”
Ace leans against the railing, arms crossed. His chest is still tight with lingering anger, but he tells himself he’ll talk to you once you’ve both cooled off.
“One, two, three… is anyone missing?” Marco is counting the division commanders first, then working his way through the rest.
The atmosphere is still tense, but there’s relief too. They made it out. Everyone’s here.
Until Marco stops and looks at Ace with a frown.
Ace barely registers it at first, lost in his own thoughts.
Then Marco lifts his head “Where’s Y/N?”
Silence.
The world seems to stop.
Ace’s heart slams against his ribs. His stomach drops.
“I don't know... We had a fight, she's probably just avoiding me?” he says, too sharply.
Marco scans the deck again, his expression darkening “So... she’s not here.”
Ace laughs shortly, disbelieving “What are you talking about? She was fighting, I saw her—”
“And did you see her get on the ship?” Marco’s voice is serious now.
Ace opens his mouth, then stops.
A cold, terrible realization creeps up his spine.
No.
No, he didn’t see you board.
He assumed. He thought you were strong enough to make it back. That once you were safe on the ship you were just avoiding him. That you needed space.
But now...
His hands start shaking.
“Turn the ship around” Ace demands, voice low, dangerous.
Marco’s expression is grim “Ace...”
“TURN THE SHIP AROUND!”
Flames burst from his body, flickering wildly with his panic, his fury at the Marines, at himself.
He left you behind.
He left you.
And if the Marines wanted you enough to set a trap for the whole crew... Ace’s breath catches. His vision blurs with pure, unfiltered rage.
He doesn’t care if he has to burn the entire damn ocean.
He’s getting you back.
Pain.
That’s the first thing you register when you regain consciousness. A deep, searing pain spreading through your body, sharp and unrelenting.
You try to move, but your wrists are bound, shackled in heavy seastone cuffs that sap your strength. Every inch of you aches, bruises blooming across your skin, blood drying where fists and rifle butts had struck you.
The Marines didn’t go easy on you.
“You’re awake.”
A voice.
You lift your head, forcing your swollen eyes open. A high-ranking Marine stands in front of you, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“You’re quite the prize,” he muses “A rare Devil Fruit ability, strong enough to stand alongside Whitebeard’s division commanders… No wonder they keep you so close.”
You glare, lips cracked, but you manage to spit out, “Go to hell.”
The Marine smirks “I think you misunderstand your situation.” He steps closer, his shadow stretching over you “The World Government has big plans for you, Y/N. You have two choices: cooperate… or break.”
You bare your teeth, eyes burning with defiance “Screw your choices.”
The Marine sighs like he expected that answer. Then his fist collides with your ribs, hard enough to make you choke on the pain.
You don’t scream. You won’t give them the satisfaction. But deep down, there’s a gnawing fear.
Where is Ace?
Does he even know you’re gone?
Or did he leave you behind without a second thought?
Aboard the Moby Dick, Ace has never felt this kind of terror before. Not when he faced death, not when he fought impossible odds.
But now that he knows you are out there, captured, hurt, alone… It’s unbearable.
The moment Marco looks everywhere on the ship and then confirms you’re missing, Ace doesn’t hesitate. His flames surge, wild and desperate, as he grips the ship’s railing “We turn back now.”
“Ace!”
“NOW!” His voice cracks, his body trembling.
Marco exhales, sharp and frustrated “You think we don’t want to?! The Marines planned this... if we storm in recklessly, we could lose more than just Y/N.”
Ace knows that. He knows.
But all he can think about is the last thing he said to you. The way your face had twisted in pain before you walked away.
The regret is suffocating.
“Then tell me where they took her,” he growls “I’ll go alone if I have to.”
A heavy pause.
Then a voice cuts through the tension “We’re not leaving her.”
Ace turns. Whitebeard stands at the helm, his expression unreadable “She’s family,” he says simply “And we don’t abandon family.”
Ace’s breath shudders.
They’re going back.
He’s getting you back and nothing in the world will stop him.
Your head throbs. Your body is battered. The seastone cuffs burn against your skin, draining your strength, making every breath feel heavier.
Time is a blur, hours, maybe days, lost between moments of pain and exhaustion. But you refuse to break. Even when they strike you. Even when they try to force your cooperation. Because if there’s one thing they’ll never take from you it’s your will.
Footsteps echo down the corridor. A different Marine this time, younger, hesitant. He kneels in front of you, his voice low “I don’t know if you can still hear me,” he mutters “But Portgas D. Ace?”
Your heart stops.
He leans in, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard “He’s coming for you.”
A weak, broken breath escapes you.
Ace.
The Marine shifts uncomfortably and mutters “Looks like he's ready to burn the world down.”
You close your eyes.
And for the first time since you were captured, hope flickers in your chest.
Ace is coming, and he’s bringing hell with him.
Later on the Marine base is eerily quiet, the dim torchlight casting long shadows against the damp stone walls. Somewhere outside, the sound of crashing waves echoes, but inside your cell, there is only the distant clatter of boots and the dull throbbing of your wounds.
You’re too exhausted to keep your head up, but you force yourself to stay conscious. Every second you stay awake is a second they don’t win.
Then the door creaks open again.
“Still alive?”
You barely react, but the voice isn’t one you recognize.
Another Marine, older this time. Not the usual guards. His uniform is crisp, and his presence carries an air of authority. He steps closer, hands behind his back, looking down at you like you’re some rare specimen.
“You’re lucky, you know,” he says casually “Most pirates we capture don’t get this much attention.”
You don’t answer. You don’t have the strength to waste on his games.
“You’re valuable,” he continues “And I’m not just talking about your affiliation with Whitebeard.” His sharp eyes scan your injuries, as if calculating how much more you can endure “Your Devil Fruit, that’s what the higher-ups are interested in.”
You don’t flinch, but inside, your stomach knots.
Of course. Your ability to manipulate minds with a single command. A fruit so rare, so dangerous, that in the wrong hands, it could change the tides of war. Or worse.
“Imagine what we could do,” the Marine muses “With just one word, you could make entire enemy fleets surrender. You could make criminals confess. You could turn Yonko commanders against their own crews.” He kneels in front of you, voice dropping lower “Or you could make Whitebeard himself bow.”
Your jaw tightens.
They don’t just want to use you.
They want to turn you into a weapon.
For a moment, you don’t say anything. Then, through cracked lips, you force out a bitter laugh.
“You think I’d help you?”
The Marine tilts his head “You will. Eventually.”
Your glare is unwavering “Never.”
“You’ll come around.” he smiles “Or I could just kill you and find the Devil Fruit later on so that I can eat it myself. One way or another. The question is how much pain you’ll endure before you give up or die. Either way we win.”
Then he turns to leave.
“Get some rest,” he says “Tomorrow, we start breaking you properly.”
The door slams shut.
You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the fear creeping in your chest.
They won’t break you. They can’t.
Because Ace is coming, and when he does, this whole damn place is going to burn.
Aboard the Moby Dick, Ace is losing his patience.
It’s been a day since they turned the ship around. A day too long.
He paces the deck like a caged animal, flames flickering around his fingers, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. The crew keeps a careful distance, no one is dumb enough to try and calm him down.
No one can.
He keeps replaying it in his head. The argument. The way you walked away. How he let you.
And now you’re gone.
“Oi, Ace.”
Marco’s voice cuts through his storming thoughts.
Ace turns, his glare sharp, but Marco doesn’t flinch.
“We found the base.”
Everything inside Ace goes still.
“Where?”
Marco tosses him a map, already marked “Marine stronghold, isolated island. Not heavily fortified, but enough of a problem if we’re reckless.” He gives Ace a pointed look “We need to be smart about this.”
Ace grips the map so tightly it crumples “They have her.”
“I know,” Marco says evenly “And we will get her back. But you losing your head won’t help.”
Ace’s fists tremble. He knows Marco’s right, but all he can think about is you, locked in some cell, hurt, alone, and how he left you.
“How soon can we be there?” he demands.
“By sunrise,” Marco says “We’ve got a plan. But Ace...”
Ace looks up, and Marco’s expression is grim.
“You better be ready for what we might find.”
Ace doesn’t hesitate “I don’t care if she’s at death’s door. I’ll bring her home.”
His flames surge brighter, hotter.
He will get you back, and if the Marines think they can keep you than they’ve never seen what happens when fire goes unchecked.
The moment the Moby Dick reaches the Marine base, chaos erupts. The crew descends like a storm. Thatch, Marco, and the others carving a path through the soldiers, clearing the way for Ace.
But Ace barely registers any of it. All he knows is that you’re in there, and he needs to find you.
“Ace!” Marco calls, dodging a Marine’s sword “Stick to the plan!”
But Ace is already breaking away.
He storms through the base, his fists burning, taking out anyone who gets in his way. The halls are a maze, twisting corridors that all look the same, and with every empty cell he passes, his panic tightens like a noose.
Where are you?
His breathing is ragged, flames licking at his skin as his frustration builds. She should be here. You should be here.
He shoves a Marine against the wall, his grip searing into the man’s uniform “Where is she?” Ace growls, his voice sharp with fury.
The soldier screams, thrashing “I—I don’t know!”
Ace snarls and knocks him out cold.
Then he runs.
And runs.
And runs.
But every hallway looks the same. Every door leads to nothing. He’s not finding you.
A new kind of fear claws into his chest, but he knows he can’t think like that. He won’t.
“Ace!”
Marco’s voice.
Then hands gripping his shoulder, yanking him back.
Ace whirls around, flames flaring “What?!”
Marco doesn’t let go. His expression is firm, unwavering “You’re wasting time.”
Ace shoves his arm away “I’m finding her!”
“No, you’re panicking!”
Ace’s breath is uneven, his vision blurred with frustration “She’s not here, Marco!” His voice cracks, desperation leaking through “I don’t—I don’t know where she is!”
Marco’s gaze softens just slightly “Then we regroup.”
Ace shakes his head violently “No.” Every second he isn’t moving is a second you’re suffering, a second too long “You don’t get it—”
Marco grips his collar, dragging him close “I do get it” he says, low and fierce “But if you let yourself fall apart now, we lose her for real.”
Ace stops breathing for a second.
Lose you.
The thought is unbearable.
Marco keeps his hold steady “We will find her. But not like this.”
Ace swallows hard. His body is still shaking, fire curling around his fists but he forces himself to listen. To stop running in circles. To think.
He exhales sharply “Then tell me what to do.”
Marco nods “We need intel. And I know where to get it.”
Pain is a familiar companion now.
You don’t know how long it’s been. Hours? Days?
It doesn’t matter. You’re still here. Still breathing.
Your body is too weak to fight. Your mind too drained to resist. But you keep holding on because you know he’s coming.
Even when the Marines laugh about how the Whitebeard Pirates will never breach the base. Even when they say you’ll be locked away forever.
You know better.
Then a distant explosion. Shouting. Gunfire. And fire.
Your heart lurches.
He’s here, but the door doesn’t open, and the sounds of battle grow further away.
Your stomach twists.
Did something happen?
No. No, you won’t think like that.
You force yourself to move, just slightly, leaning against the cold stone wall. You don’t have much left in you. But if there’s even a small chance, you have to believe Ace will find you. He has to. Because you don’t know how much longer you can last.
“Alright, talk.”
Ace slams the Marine officer against the table, his fire dangerously close to igniting the man’s uniform. Marco stands behind him, arms crossed, while the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates keep the room secure.
The officer trembles, sweat dripping down his forehead “I—I don’t—”
Ace tightens his grip “Wrong answer.”
The flames grow hotter. The Marine yelps, eyes wide with terror “Okay! Okay!”
“Where is she?” Marco demands.
The officer swallows hard “She—she’s in the lower dungeons. Isolated. Special containment.”
Ace’s flames flare. Of course... Seastone.
That’s why he couldn’t find you. Why his Haki wasn’t sensing you.
Ace lets go, and the officer slumps against the chair, gasping for breath.
Then Ace turns and runs.
Your vision is swimming now.
You don’t know how much longer you can hold on.
Then an explosion. Not distant, but actually really close.
And then your cell door is ripped open.
A burst of fire floods the room, bright and blinding. And through the smoke you finally see Ace.
You think you might be dreaming.
Because his face, his expression... he looks destroyed. Like something in him has been broken ever since you disappeared.
Then he’s kneeling in front of you, hands hovering over your battered body like he doesn’t know where to start.
“Y/N.” His voice is raw, barely more than a whisper.
You try to smile “Took you long enough.”
Ace lets out a shaky breath, a laugh, but not really. More like he’s trying to keep himself together.
“Shut up,” he mutters “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
But he doesn’t sound convinced.
His fingers tremble as he undoes the seastone cuffs, his flames immediately warming your ice-cold skin. His touch is so careful, so gentle, like he’s afraid you’ll break apart in his hands.
You lean into him, too weak to do anything else.
His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close.
You feel him shaking.
“I thought I lost you” he chokes out.
You close your eyes.
“I knew you’d come.”
Ace swallows hard, burying his face in your hair.
Then, quietly “I’m so sorry.”
But there’s no time to say more, because the base is still burning and the fight isn’t over yet.
Ace holds you tighter, his fingers pressing against your bruised skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his grasp again. But you barely register it.
The exhaustion, the pain, the relief, it’s all too much.
The world tilts and then everything goes dark.
When you wake, everything seems slow and heavy, like surfacing from the depths of the ocean, your body weighed down by the bruises, the fatigue, the lingering ache of the seastone cuffs.
You shift slightly, wincing at the pain, and that’s when you realize there’s warmth. Ace.
He’s slumped over at your bedside, arms folded against the mattress, his head resting there like he’d been watching you and passed out. His face is hidden by his wild mess of black hair, but his breathing is deep and steady.
He looks exhausted.
You blink slowly, taking in the dim light of the infirmary, the distant sound of the waves outside. It’s quiet. Safe.
You made it back, and Ace never left your side.
You manage to lift a hand, your fingers brushing against his hair.
He tenses as his eyes snap open, unfocused for a second before locking onto you.
“Y/N.”
Your throat is dry, your voice barely a whisper “Hey.”
For a second, he just stares, like he’s trying to convince himself you’re real.
Then his jaw clenches, and he sits up, running a hand down his face. “Shit.” His voice is raw, hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken in hours “You—you scared the hell out of me.”
You offer a weak smile “Pretty sure you did more damage than I did.”
Ace exhales sharply, his fingers twitching against the sheets “Don’t joke about that.”
His voice is too tight. Too strained.
And when you really look at him he looks like hell.
There are dark circles under his eyes, his skin paler than usual. His hair is messier than normal, his hat discarded on the floor. His usual reckless energy is gone, replaced by something quieter.
Something heavy.
“You didn’t sleep, did you?” you murmur.
Ace scoffs, but it’s humorless “How was I supposed to sleep?” His hands curl into fists “They had you. They hurt you. And I…”
He cuts himself off, looking away, jaw clenched so tight it might shatter.
Guilt.
That’s what it is.
The weight of everything he said before. The things he didn’t say.
You swallow, shifting slightly, ignoring the way your ribs protest “Ace.”
He doesn’t look at you.
You push yourself up on weak arms, reaching for him “Ace.”
His gaze flickers to you.
“I should’ve been there.” His voice cracks “I should’ve gone after you the second you walked away. I should’ve—” He shakes his head violently “I let you go. And because of that, they took you.”
You take a slow breath “Ace...”
“You could’ve died, Y/N” His hands tremble where they grip the sheets “Because of me.”
You watch him carefully.
This isn’t just guilt.
It’s fear.
You reach for him again, your fingers curling around his wrist “But I didn’t.”
His eyes snap to yours.
“And you found me.”
Ace swallows hard “Barely.”
“But you did.” You squeeze his wrist, grounding him “Ace, I knew you’d come for me. No matter what.”
His breath is uneven, his entire body tense “What if I had been too late?”
“You weren’t.”
He shakes his head, but this time, his shoulders tremble “I can’t—” His voice lowers, raw and broken “I can’t lose you.”
Suddenly, all the anger, all the bitterness from your fight before, it feels so small. Because none of that matters now. Not when you almost lost each other.
You tug gently at his wrist, and after a second, he moves. Slowly, hesitantly, he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.
His skin is warm. His breathing is shaky.
But he’s here and so are you.
Your fingers lift, brushing against his cheek “You won’t lose me.”
Ace lets out a shuddering breath, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing your palm against his face like he never wants to let go.
You stay like that for a long moment, the storm inside him settling just slightly.
Then he whispers “I’m sorry... For everything.”
You smile softly, thumb brushing over his cheekbone “I know.”
He exhales, pressing his face further into your touch “I love you, Y/N.”
Your heart clenches.
Because despite everything, despite the pain, the fear, the regret, you never once doubted that.
You smile, fingers tangling in his hair.
“I love you too, hothead.”
Ace lets out a breathless laugh, wet and shaky, but real.
And when he finally kisses you it tastes like fire, and ash, and home.
He holds onto you like you’ll disappear if he lets go. His forehead is still pressed against yours, his breath uneven. You can feel the heat of his skin, the way his fingers tremble slightly against yours.
Everything feels so fragile. Like the moment could slip away if either of you move too fast. But you don’t want to move. Not yet.
Not when you can feel the way his heartbeat stutters under your touch.
Not when he’s finally here, safe, with you.
And then, quietly “You really scared me, y’know.”
You let out a breath “You scared me,” you murmur “Burning down a whole Marine base like a lunatic.”
Ace scoffs, but his grip on you tightens “Would’ve burned the whole damn world if I had to.”
You believe him. You always believed in him. Even when you were angry. Even when you walked away.
That fight. The reason you stormed off in the first place. It feels so distant now. But still, it lingers.
You take a slow breath “Ace…”
He pulls back slightly, eyes searching yours “Yeah?”
You hesitate “Before all this… before we landed on that island…”
Ace tenses. He knows what you’re talking about.
Your fight.
The argument that hadn’t been resolved before everything spiraled into chaos.
Ace shifts, running a hand through his messy hair “You were mad at me.”
You raise an eyebrow “Oh, you think?”
Ace sighs “I know.”
You look away, your fingers gripping the blanket draped over you. The memory of the fight comes rushing back. You had been reckless during a raid. You thought you had it handled. But Ace had jumped in, flames blazing, telling you to stop being so damn stubborn and let someone help you for once.
And you had snapped because it wasn’t just about the raid. It was about everything.
The way Ace always threw himself in danger, like he had to do it alone. The way he always acted like his life didn’t matter as much as everyone else’s.
And when you told him that, when you yelled at him for it, he threw it back in your face.
And now, after almost dying, after being taken, after him almost losing you, the weight of it crashes down on both of you.
Ace lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Guess I really was an idiot, huh?”
You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow “Oh? Now you realize?”
Ace groans, dragging his hand down his face “You’re really gonna rub it in while you’re still half-dead?”
You smirk “Absolutely.”
He exhales sharply, shaking his head, but then his expression softens. His golden eyes flicker with something raw, something real.
“You were right” he says quietly.
That makes you pause.
Ace doesn’t say things like that often.
“You were right,” he repeats, voice hoarse “I do act like that sometimes. Like it doesn’t matter what happens to me. Like…” He swallows hard, gaze dropping “Like I don’t deserve to be saved.”
Your chest tightens.
“But then you got taken,” he continues, voice barely above a whisper “And I—” He clenches his fists “I would’ve burned the whole world down to get you back. No hesitation. No second thoughts.”
He looks up at you then, something pleading in his expression.
“And that’s how you felt, isn’t it?”
You don’t answer right away, because you don’t need to. Ace already knows.
You sigh, leaning back against the pillows “You do deserve to be saved, Ace.”
Ace exhales, rubbing the back of his neck “Yeah, well. Guess I finally get it now.”
You shake your head with a small smile “Took you long enough, hothead.”
He lets out a weak laugh, then leans forward again, pressing his forehead against yours.
It’s warm. Comforting. Safe.
You close your eyes, exhaling softly “Next time we fight, can we just skip to this part?”
Ace huffs out a laugh “What, the part where I almost lose my mind looking for you?”
You nudge him weakly “No. The part where you admit I was right.”
Ace groans dramatically “Ugh, never mind. You’re insufferable.”
You smile, your fingers brushing against his. But then you feel something wet against your skin.
You pull back slightly, confused “Ace…”
He blinks, startled “What?”
You reach up, brushing a thumb under his eye.
“You’re crying.”
Ace freezes. For a second, he looks caught off guard, like he hadn’t even noticed.
Then, before you can say anything else, he lets out a choked laugh, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
He sniffles slightly, then smirks at you through his tears.
“Look who’s the one crying at the end.”
You stare at him. Then you laugh with him. A real, genuine laugh.
Ace grins, his hand finding yours again, fingers lacing together. His grip is warm, steady, alive.
And when he squeezes your hand gently, you know neither of you will ever walk away again.
rahhhh thank you SO SO much for writing my request! it was everything i needed omg and the way it was longer than i anticipated >>> ur enabling my racing mind ong this fic got me in the kokoro and i LOVE IT SO MUCH AND YOUR WRITING 💕
you’ve been awoken by an angel. or at least, that’s what it feels like when you wake up in a soft bed that is absolutely not your own, the warmth of this stranger — no, angel, filling your limbs with life you didn’t have before.
you gently open your eyes, trying consciously to widen them against the sleep that tugs at your eyelids. above you is a man kissed in sunlight, his broad arms held above you on the mattress. his eyes. some mix of green or brown or hazel or heaven looked at you like you’d bestowed him the greatest gift of the universe.
so naturally, having a hot man on top of you made you say the stupidest thing said in the history of mankind.
“holy shit. you are the sexiest man alive.”
the man stilled, eyebrows knitting in confusion before the laughter lit up his entire face.
“you’re supposed to be sober,” he sighed. “come on now. you’re telling me a full night of sleep didn’t fix that?”
you blinked sleepily, your edges snapping into focus before you realized that in your sleepy gaze, you’d just called iwaizumi hajime, your best friend of all time….the sexiest man alive.
you wished the ground would swallow you whole. that at least, would be a better fate than what currently greeted you.
you shoved your face in your hands, hearing hajime’s chuckles carrying out over the entire room.
“oh wow! that definitely did it. sexiest man alive, huh.”
“that wasn’t me…” you mumbled into your hands, “that was my evil twin. they try to sabotage me no matter what i do.”
you feel the gentle sensation of your hands being peeled away from your face, only for hajime to lean down and kiss your forehead.
every thought in your head ceased to exist.
“you’re silly,” he smiled against your skin, rising up from the mattress. “go brush your teeth. i’ll make breakfast.”
you were left alone in a sunlit room, wrapped in his sheets and wondering if your stupid comment had landed you a breakfast date with your secret crush.
toji fucking you for so long that your poor pussy is a fucking mess. folds puffy, clit swollen, a combination of your juices and his sliding down between your thighs and onto the towel he has under you. you can’t even bring yourself to hold onto him anymore because all of your limbs are numb.
your head’s a fucking mess too; your five senses have been dulled down to nothing but the feel of his fat cock sliding in and out of you with wet, sloppy plaps.
you’d think that he’d at least have the decency to try and orient you or hold your hands, but he’s a mess too. pussydrunk. he’s watching the way your pussy swallows him up with each thrust, your folds wrapping around his length and sucking him in deeper. little sprays of fluid come out of you when he drives inside too fast, and if he goes too slow, your pussy flutters around him so pretty. he can’t decide which he likes better.
“you like that dick?” he grunts thoughtlessly, moving one hand off your thigh in between your legs instead so he can rub harsh circles onto your clit. “you like that dick baby? i think she likes it.”
“mngh…w-who?” you babble, bucking your hips into his hand while also fucking yourself onto him, chasing your fast approaching orgasm.
“your pussy. fuck, she loves it. look how well she’s taking me.”
you cry out and hook your legs around his waist, knowing that you’re almost there and that you want him to empty his load into you. nowhere else is satisfactory. “to-jiiiii” you slur, eyes rolling back into your head when he curves his body inward to drive impossibly deeper inside you, angling his cock to hit that sweet spot on your frontal wall. “ ‘m cumming!”
toji’s face scrunches up. he resorts to that fast pace that he was stuck on earlier, and pounds into you hard and fast, his curved length battering your soft insides with each wet thrust. he slams his hips into yours one more time, pushing his thumb against your bundle of nerves while your pussy hugs his cock, milking the cum straight out of him while you squirt on his dick.
the two of you let out the most vulgar of moans as he cums with you, emptying his heavy, thick load deep into your womb. his body collapses on top of yours while he keeps rocking his cock into you, making sure no part of your pretty pussy goes untouched by his cum.
summary: fem!non mc reader x valko | he was supposed to remain nothing more than code—a canceled route in a game that never got the chance to tell his story. but when he wakes up in your world, the line between player and character disappears, forcing you both to decide whether some stories are meant to be rewritten...or finally allowed to choose their own ending.
a/n: suprise um #bringvalkoback! i thought i was done with the system fracture series but with everything going on right now i couldn't help myself. i tried my best to do him justice and maybe in future writing's i will do better. also this is barely proof read so sorry for any mistakes. everyone please continue to boycott and spread awareness, and i hope you enjoy this bonus story.
a month ago, the internet had been on fire. not just because love and deepspace had announced a new love interest. because they'd taken him away before anyone had the chance to meet him. you still remembered where you had been when the notification appeared.
Official Statement from Infold.
your heart had leapt into your throat
Dear Miss Hunters,
We have decided to cancel both the launch and any further development of the new love interest. We also commit that no additional love interests will be introduced in future content plans.
you hadn't finished reading it the first time. the comments beneath it had said enough.
Justice for Valko.
Bring him back.
You can't treat us like this.
He deserved better.
within minutes, hashtags exploded across every platform. edits of his reveal trailer flooded tiktok. artists worked overnight, posting illustrations of the red-haired wolf beneath the glowing moon. theory channels insisted it was an elaborate marketing campaign.
"it has to be," one creator confidently declared. "there's no way they'd throw away a character with this much hype."
except...they did. a week later, the hashtags slowed. two weeks later, discussion shifted toward the next event banner. by the end of the month, it was like valko had never existed.
everyone moved on. everyone except you.
your monitor cast a pale blue glow across the bedroom as the trailer played for what had to be the hundredth time. moonlight poured through towering pine trees. a figure stepped from the shadows. red hair. golden eyes.
valko looked directly at you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
"do you dare follow?"
you smiled despite yourself, "i guess i would have."
you knew every second by heart. the slight raise of his eyebrow. the confident smirk that made the fandom collectively lose its mind. the glimpse of sharpened canine teeth.
the trailer ended. without thinking, you clicked replay. again. you leaned back in your chair, hugging one knee to your chest.
"this is getting pathetic."
maybe it was. but every time you tried logging into the game something felt...wrong. the game hadn't changed. the home screen still greeted you with the same music. events arrived on schedule. everything functioned exactly as it always had. yet there was an emptiness you couldn't ignore.
you should have been unlocking valko's memories. listening to his voice calls. reading anecdotes. grinding affinity levels. instead all you had were three trailers, a handful of promotional images and the outline of someone who had never been allowed to become real.
it felt like someone had quietly torn an entire chapter from a book before you'd ever gotten the chance to read it. you minimized the trailer and opened the official statement again.
maybe you'd missed something. some hidden clue. some promise. some tiny sentence that hinted they'd changed their minds. there wasn't one. just polished corporate language. carefully chosen words. an apology that explained nothing.
you sighed and closed the page, "i know it's silly."
your eyes drifted back to the paused trailer, "i know you're just...code"
the word tasted wrong. you had never met him. never played his route. never experienced his story. yet every teaser had made him feel...alive. not because of the graphics but because someone had poured genuine care into creating him. someone had written his dialogue. designed his smile. imagined the sound of his voice. and now, he would never get to become who they intended him to be.
your fingers absentmindedly reached toward the monitor. they rested lightly against the glass over his face.
"you would've been my favorite."
only silence answered you. outside, the city had grown quiet. a few distant cars drifted through the streets below before disappearing into the night.
still...you couldn't bring yourself to pull your hand away.
"i hope..." your voice was barely above a whisper, "wherever you were supposed to end up..."
you smiled sadly, "someone got to know you."
for just a second...the paused image seemed different. his eyes felt strangely warm, like they were looking back at you.
you blinked, "nope."
definitely sleep deprivation. you powered off the monitor, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through your curtains.
your phone read 2:37 a.m. you should have gone to bed hours ago. tomorrow you'd log in again and collect the daily rewards. pretend everything felt normal. maybe eventually it would. maybe one day you'd stop thinking about a character who never even had the chance to exist.
the thought settled heavily in your chest as you slipped beneath the blankets. you closed your eyes and within minutes, exhaustion pulled you under. until you heard a soft noise.
tink.
something struck the glass. you frowned without opening your eyes. probably a tree branch. except...you didn't have a tree outside your balcony.
tink. this one was louder.
you groaned, rolling onto your back, "what now..."
your eyes opened and the clock beside your bed glowed 4:43 a.m. you listened. nothing. maybe you'd imagined it. you were just about to lay back down when—
tink.
"you've got to be kidding me!"
heart pounding a little faster, you slipped out of bed and quietly crossed the room. you hesitated beside the curtains. every horror movie you'd ever watched suddenly replayed itself in vivid detail. someone was outside. but that shouldn't have been possible. you lived on the third floor. another pebble hit the glass.
before you lost your courage, you grabbed the curtain and pulled it aside and your mind went completely blank. there was a man standing on your balcony. not climbing. not hanging from the railing. just standing there as though appearing three stories above the ground in the middle of the night was perfectly reasonable.
moonlight caught auburn hair that shimmered in the breeze. sleeveless black shirt. broad shoulders. golden eyes. no, that wasn't—he smiled. the exact same smile you'd watched a hundred times on your computer. you forgot how to breathe.
"there you are," he said with an easy grin, relief softening his features as if he'd finally found someone he'd been searching for. "i was beginning to think i had the wrong balcony."
"i..." your voice barely worked, "you're..."
you rubbed both eyes and looked again. he was still there. every detail was perfect. every strand of hair. every sharp angle of his face. every expression you'd memorized from limited official content and countless fan edits.
this wasn't possible. you had finally lost it. a combination of sleep deprivation and stress. this was an extremely vivid dream. that had to be it.
he looked at the closed balcony door, then back at you, "so..." he asked, almost sheepishly, "can i come in?"
you don't move. you aren't entirely convinced you still remember how. the balcony door separates you from the impossible. maybe if you don't unlock it, you'll wake up.
your hand remains frozen around the curtain.
"i..." you swallow. "you're not real."
he frowns and scoffs, "i certainly hope i am."
"no." you shake your head. "no, you're—"
you gesture wildly toward him, somehow expecting that to explain everything.
"you're you."
a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, "i'll take that as a compliment."
this isn't happening. it can't be. you pinch the inside of your forearm hard enough to sting. he's still here. you pinch yourself again.
"are you alright?" he asks, concern beginning to replace the playful expression on his face.
you stare at him then at the red mark forming on your skin, "you should disappear."
"i beg your pardon?"
"when i wake up."
a beat of silence passes before realization dawns across his face.
"ah." he laughs. it's soft and low. exactly like it sounded in the trailer.
"you think you're dreaming."
"i know i'm dreaming."
you squeeze your eyes shut. count to five. open them again. valko is still patiently standing on your balcony. still looking at you as though the strangest part of tonight is that you haven't invited him inside.
he glances over one shoulder at the neighboring apartments before lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"if it helps," he says, "i'd rather not explain to your neighbors why i'm loitering outside your balcony at this hour."
despite yourself a nervous laugh escapes. the sound surprises both of you.
you look back at the locked balcony door. every sensible instinct screams not to open it. but if this is a dream, it doesn't matter. and if it isn't - you don't even know what that would mean.
with trembling fingers, you unlock the handle. the door slides open and cool night air spills into your apartment. valko steps inside as though crossing that threshold is the most natural thing in the world. for a moment, neither of you speaks. he's taller than you expected. the promotional art hadn't quite captured the sheer size of him. nor had it conveyed the quiet warmth radiating from him, or the subtle scent of cedar and rain clinging to his skin.
your apartment suddenly feels much smaller. he takes a slow look around as curiosity flickers across his features.
"this is..." he pauses, "different."
you don't miss the hesitation, "different from what?"
he turns his attention towards the kitchen, the living room, the hallway that leads to your bedroom.
his brow furrows almost imperceptibly, "i can't quite explain it."
he continues looking around with growing curiosity, "the architecture is different...the lighting...the air."
his golden eyes settle on you again, "and..." a faint crease appears between his brows, "you look different."
your stomach drops, "i think," you say carefully, "you have me confused with someone else."
"i don't." he says matter-of-factly.
"you do...you've never met me."
his answer comes without hesitation, "but i have. i knew to come here."
you take a slow breath, "valko...sit down."
you close your eyes for the briefest moment. this conversation is about to become infinitely more complicated. you motion toward the couch, watching him carefully as he steps farther into your apartment. despite his general confusion, his movements are effortless and confident, like someone accustomed to occupying any room he entered.
you remain standing, keeping a healthy distance between yourself and the man who, as far as reality was concerned, should not exist.
he notices immediately, "i promise i'm not dangerous."
"i don't know that."
"and yet you opened the door." he says slyly
you sigh shakily, "i may regret that."
he smiles barring his pearly canines, "i hope not."
silence settles between you. it isn't uncomfortable. it's just...palpable, almost indescribable. he studies your apartment again, this time more carefully. books stacked beside the couch. a charging cable stretched across the coffee table. a mug that still smelled faintly of peppermint tea. then his eyes land on your computer monitor. the screen had gone dark after falling asleep.
he gestures toward it, "you were working?"
"not exactly..."
"then what kept you awake?"
you hesitate, "you."
his brows lift, "me?"
you nod slowly, "i was watching your...trailers."
"my..." the word dies on his tongue, "trailers?"
your heart pounds. there's no easy way to say this. no gentle introduction. no version of this conversation where he doesn't think you've completely lost your mind.
you finally take a seat across from him, fold your hands together and take a deep breath.
"i need you to answer one question honestly."
"you have my word."
"what city are we in?"
he answers without hesitation, "linkon."
you nod once, "and who am i to you?
his expression softens, then a small frown appears on his face. he seems confused and slightly offended by the question.
"you've always been..." he pauses and his gaze searches yours, "it's difficult to explain."
he presses two fingers lightly against his temple, "i remember wanting to find you."
"why?"
"i don't know...instinct is the only way i can describe it."
now he realizes that he sounds like the insane one.
"when did we meet?"
his brow furrows deeper, "i.."
his lips part, then close again. for the first time since arriving, uncertainty flashes across his face.
"i don't remember."
your stomach sinks. he remembers you. but not how, not when, not where. just that he had to find you.
you stand abruptly, and disappear into your bedroom, heart racing. when you return, your phone is already unlocked. the official love and deepspace youtube channel fills the screen.
you stop in front of him, "you're going to think this is insane."
"i'm beginning to suspect nothing tonight can surprise me anymore."
you ignore the joke and with a shaky thumb, you press play. the familiar trailer begins. the music starts then moonlight, and a line of text appears. then on the screen, standing exactly as he had a few moments ago on your balcony.
his own voice fills the apartment, "take me in for the night."
the trailer continues until the game logo fades into view. you pause the video.
the room is deathly quiet for a while. oh god you broke him. his yellow eyes remain fixed on the screen.
suddenly, "that's...me."
a part of you wants to gloat say 'i told you so' while the other doesn't know how to continue on.
"i don't remember saying any of that." his gaze slowly lifts to yours, "what is this?"
you inhale slowly, "this..." you gesture toward the phone, "is a promotional trailer."
"for?"
you almost can't bring yourself to say it, "a video game."
he laughs once not because he finds it funny but because the alternative is absurd.
"i think you've misunderstood something."
"i wish i had."
"i'm not..." he gestures vaguely toward the phone, "fiction!"
"i know you aren't."
"you just said—"
"i know what i said!"
your voice comes out louder than intended. you force yourself to continue.
"you are here! you're sitting on my couch." your throat tightens, "and yet...you shouldn't exist."
you open the official statement before handing him your phone. he hesitates before taking it and begins reading. the further down the page his eyes travel, the more the color drains from his face.
his grip on the phone tightens, knuckles turning white. "so they..." his eyes return to yours. "canceled me."
the word lands like a stone, tears welling up in your eyes.
"it wasn't your fault. there was backlash online."
you sit beside him, careful to leave space between you and yet desperately wanting to reach out to him.
"people were devastated."
you pull the phone closer and open social media. old posts. archived hashtags. petitions. compilation after compilation. millions of views. millions of people excited to meet him. millions of people mourning someone they'd never even known.
he sits there for you arent entirely sure how long and scrolls quietly through every drawing. every edit. every comment. as his expression becomes harder to read.
"they...cared...so much" he says looking up at you
you nod, "they still do. i know i do."
he doesn't register the last part of what you said as questions flood his mind.
"then why..." his voice catches, "why wasn't i released?"
you lower your eyes, "i don't know. i've spent weeks trying to understand it. i thought maybe there'd be another announcement. a delay. a rewrite. anything. but there wasn't."
the apartment falls silent again. he sets your phone carefully on the coffee table. neither of you speaks for what feels like several minutes.
finally, his voice is distant, "so linkon and everyone i know...doesn't exist?"
you slowly nod, throat dry as you can't form anymore words. his shoulders slump ever so slightly. the realization comes in waves. not all at once. everything he'd believed to be true. every memory. every place. every person - reduced to data.
then another thought seems to strike him. slowly almost afraid of the answer he asks, "and you?"
your heart aches, "i'm..." you look down at your hands, "i'm just someone who plays the game."
"you aren't..." he searches for the right words, "the person i thought you were."
your blood runs cold, "i don't even know who that person is."
it doesn't make sense to you. why would he know he has to find you? you aren't the heroine. not a deepspace hunter. you are just well...you.
he leans back against the couch staring at nothing, "so if..."
his voice is barely audible, "i don't belong there...and i don't belong here..."
his golden eyes finally meet yours again. lost and vulnerable. nothing like the composed ceo from the trailers.
"where do i belong?"
you wake to the smell of coffee. for one blissful, fleeting second, everything feels normal. the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. the comforting weight of your blankets. the distant hum of traffic outside.
then your eyes snap open. your heart immediately jumps into your throat. you throw the blankets aside and hurry into the living room.
valko is standing in your kitchen. wearing the same clothes from last night, as he examines the buttons on your electric kettle with intense concentration.
"good morning."
the greeting is so casual that it takes your brain a second to catch up.
"you—" you point accusingly, "you're still here."
he looks over his shoulder, "i certainly hope so."
his smile is small, "well it's not like i have anywhere else to go."
so...last night wasn't a dream. you sink onto one of the kitchen stools. for a moment, neither of you says anything. valko returns his attention to the kettle.
"i believe i've lost."
"what?"
"it keeps beeping at me."
you follow his gaze. the kettle flashes an error because it isn't sitting correctly on its base. you walk over, adjust it, and press the switch. the water immediately begins to heat.
he watches with genuine fascination, "that's all?"
"that's all." you say patting his shoulder
"things are way more...advanced in linkon."
"and you've been awake for how long?"
"i'm not entirely sure."
your eyes sweep across the apartment. nothing appears out of place. the books are still stacked neatly. the couch cushions haven't moved. even the blanket you'd forgotten to fold has been draped neatly over the armrest.
"you cleaned."
he looks almost embarrassed, "i couldn't sleep."
something in your chest twists. you remember how the night ended.
"where do i belong?"
neither of you had found an answer. instead, you'd made up the couch with extra blankets while insisting he take it. the kettle beeped again signaling the brew was done.
you reach for two mugs, as he settles behind you. the only sound was your spoon tinkering, mixing cream and sugar before you cleared your throat, "so...we need a plan."
you turn passing valko a cup, your hands slightly brushing. he jolts lightly at the contact before nodding, "that's a good idea."
you settle on the couch, pulling out your laptop, "the obvious option..." you hesitate, "would be telling infold."
his expression changes immediately, "they made me?"
"they did."
"and you trust them?"
you don't answer because you don't know. you shouldn't. not after everything they have done.
"unfortunately that doesn't really matter. they know way more about this than i ever would."
"true..but they canceled me. who know's what they would do to me now."
he lightly shudders at the thought and you wince, "i know...but i don't think they'd hurt you."
"you don't know that."
you close the laptop before you'd even begun searching, "you are right i don't know anything."
you laugh quietly, "i don't even know how you got here."
"the balcony."
you roll your eyes, "you know what i mean."
you rest your elbows on your knees, "wait a minute. there was that astronomy article..."
he looks over, "what article?"
"last night before you appeared..."
you scroll until you find it, 'rare total lunar eclipse expected to coincide with heightened solar activity.'
he reads over your shoulder, "it says events like this haven't aligned in decades."
"it happened just after midnight. about the time i was watching the trailers and well...spiraling."
you both turn to look at eachother, before he speaks "about the time i arrived."
it's the closest thing to a lead you've found.
you set your phone down, "until we figure this out..." you glance around your tiny apartment, "you can't exactly wander outside."
he sits quietly for several moments then looks around your apartment, "but..." he begins standing, "if staying here puts you in danger, i should leave."
"what?! you have nowhere to go!"
"i'll figure something out."
"you don't have money."
"i'll earn some."
you sigh. he really is considering walking out your front door with absolutely no plan.
"please... don't leave."
he hesitates. but you reach for him anyway, touching his wrists and bringing him back towards you.
"we'll figure this out."
"together?"
the question is so quiet it almost breaks your heart. you nod, "together."
something in his expression softens. not relief. not happiness. something deeper. like a man who had spent the last twelve hours believing he belonged nowhere...had finally been offered somewhere to stay.
you sit at the edge of the couch, staring at the small pile of things you've already accumulated this morning. his shoes are by the door, the phone you used to show him the trailer, and the almost-empty coffee mugs sitting on the table.
valko stands near the window. he's been there for several minutes without moving much, just watching the street below like it might explain itself if he looks long enough.
you break the silence first, "you're going to need stuff."
he turns slightly, "stuff?"
"yeah...like clothes"
he gestures to his outfit, "what's wrong with this?"
you laugh lightly, for how smart he is supposed to be he is a bit dense.
"you're going to live here."
the word hangs between you both for a second longer than it should — live.
you stand, walking toward the kitchen counter as you start listing things on instinct.
"toothbrush. soap. food. more clothes. chargers, actually i don't even know if you need chargers—"
"i don't think i do."
"you see? that's the problem. i don't know what you need."
valko finally turns fully toward you. there's no panic on his face. just focused, steady attention like he's evaluating a situation he intends to solve.
"you are treating this like i am unprepared."
"you are unprepared!"
"yes well i am adapting."
"you arrived here twelve hours ago!"
you exhale, rubbing your forehead, "okay new plan, you need supplies and i can't just…improvise your entire existence out of my apartment."
you grab your phone, "we're going out."
valko watches you unlock the screen, "outside? you just advised against that."
"i still advise against it! but we don't have any other choice."
ten minutes later, you're both standing at the door. you've done what you can. cap, mask, sunglasses — it still doesn't feel like enough.
valko adjusts the cap once, then looks at you smiling, "good enough?"
"no but it'll have to be."
you open the door and the outside world feels too normal — too bright, too loud. unaware of what's walking beside you. valko stays close, not crowding you, but matching your pace with quiet precision. every few steps, his gaze shifts, observing and processing his new surroundings.
the first stop is a general store, it's practical and less risky. you grab a basket and hand him one. he takes it like it's standard procedure.
"so," you say, "we're starting with basics."
you move methodically through the aisles. every item you place in the basket, he studies like it matters more than it should. like he's rebuilding an entire system from scratch.
the clothing aisle is next. you slow down instinctively.
"what's wrong?"
"it's… personal stuff."
he tilts his head slightly, "then i will follow your lead."
that's it. just trust again. you pick out essentials quickly and you try not to think too hard about the fact that you are now actively selecting the building blocks of his life.
at checkout, the total flashes on the screen. you pay before he can even look at it too closely. you gather the bags. they are heavy and real — it's evidence. as you step outside, valko adjusts the strap of one of them over his shoulder. you notice something then. he isn't struggling with the weight. certaintly not physically. but most surprisingly not mentally. he just…accepted it.
you look at him as you start walking back, "you're handling this really well."
he glances at you, "you are doing most of the adaptation work."
"i'm not the one who got dropped into another world."
"no...but you are making it really easy to choose to stay next to you."
that stops you mid-step. you don't respond right away. life continues like nothing unusual is happening. but for you—that sentence lingers.
time passes in a way you don't really notice at first. not in days or weeks that feel defined. just...repetition.
there is a rhythm now. morning light seeping through the blinds and quiet conversation. afternoon silence broken by small experiments—him learning how your world behaves, you learning how little confusion he actually carries about it. evenings together on the couch. sometimes talking. sometimes not.
you don't remember falling asleep. one moment you were sitting on the couch with a book half-open in your lap, valko's voice somewhere in the background asking something you can't quite make out then, there’s warmth.
soft fabric pulled over you. the faint scent of clean laundry and something faintly woody. his scent, you knew it by now. the way it envoloped your entire apartment.
you blink slowly and the room is dimmer. you realize you're on your side, curled slightly, a blanket tucked neatly around your shoulders.
you didn't do that. you shift a little and hear movement nearby. valko is sitting at the edge of the couch. you try to sit up, but the blanket resists in that too-comfortable way that makes your body betray your argument.
"how long was i out?"
"forty-seven minutes."
you stare at him through sleepy eyes, "you were counting?"
his gaze doesn’t move away, "i wanted to make sure you were still breathing normally."
the city outside continues like nothing unusual is happening but inside your apartment, something has quietly shifted shape without asking permission. later, you don't notice when it becomes routine. that's the strange part. it just… happens.
you reach for his hand on the off chance you leave the apartment. the first time, it's instinct. the second time, it's habit. by the third, it feels wrong not to. valko looks down at it once when it happens. he doesn't ask you to let go. instead he tightens his grip and tries to hold back a grin that wants to take permanent shape on his face.
"is this necessary?" he asks one day, lifting your intertwined hands up
you hesitate, "no...i guess not"
"then why do you do it?"
your brain short-circuits cause the honest answer feels too simple.
"because i want to," you say finally.
that seems to satisfy him and he brings your hand up to his lips leaving a gentle kiss there that has you blushing.
you start sharing things without thinking about it. a childhood story while making instant noodles. a memory you didn't mean to say out loud until it's already out there.
"why did you start playing the game?" he asked while you were eating dinner one night
you poke absentmindedly at your food before answering.
"in case you haven't noticed..." you say with a small laugh, "i don't really have a life."
you meant it as a joke. he doesn't laugh, instead, he tilts his head ever so slightly.
"i don't think that's true."
you shrug, "it kind of is. i worked, came home, ate whatever was easiest. went to bed then did it all again the next day."
valko listens head propped in his hands like everything you say is stored somewhere important.
"i guess..." you sigh. "life wasn't bad. it just wasn't...fulfilling."
you laugh quietly, "but it still felt like i was watching everyone else live."
his expression softens, "and the game changed that?"
you smile at the memory. of creating your character. choosing your main love interest when your real love life was tragic.
"it gave me something to look forward to at the end of the day."
"i don't think you were searching for a game." he responds
"you were searching for connection."
you hadn't thought about it like that before.
"maybe." you smile to yourself, "you might be right."
"and now?"
a slight smug smirk forming on his lips, already knowing the answer but asking you anyway.
"what do you look forward to?"
you open your mouth trying to come up with a joke or something to ease the tension. yet nothing comes because the answer is embarrassingly obvious.
"you."
then the world interrupts. a notification from infold. you open it without thinking.
Infold Official Statement
your stomach tightens immediately. that same dreadful feeling you had before. valko notices your expression before you even speak.
"what is it?"
you hesitate then turn the phone slightly toward him.
To our Hunters,
Following recent developments and renewed interest in Valko’s character, we would like to address ongoing speculation regarding his future.
At this time, we confirm that while there were internal discussions regarding the possibility of reintroducing Valko into future content, unforeseen complications involving his existing character data have rendered further development unstable.
We appreciate your passion and continued support.
you lower the phone slowly, "they were going to bring you back."
valko completely seems to ignore the words on the screen. picks up his fork and starts eating again.
"i see."
"that's it?" you stutter out
"what would you like me to say?"
"i don't know...something."
that night, you start researching...again — lunar eclipse timing. celestial alignment anomaly. rare atmospheric event cycles
"there's another one. the same kind of alignment that was happening the night you showed up."
he studies the data without interrupting you as you scroll further.
"there are articles about unusual energy fluctuations during these events. some people think they're just atmospheric interference. others think—"
you stop yourself, because it sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud. valko finishes it anyway.
"that it's some kind of portal."
you nod once, "yeah."
he leans back slightly, "and what does your research suggest?"
"that it could explain how you got here."
then you add, quieter, "and maybe how to send you back."
the word back sits differently now. he hears it but he doesn’t react immediately. instead, he looks toward the window. the night outside is still.
then he speaks, "and if it can...what happens then?"
you close the laptop slightly, "i don't know. do you want to go back?"
it comes out softer than you intended. and you hope he doesn't hear the fear and disappointment in your voice.
valko is quiet for a long time, contemplating your question.
then, "i do not think i know what 'back' means anymore."
you should feel relieved. this is solvable. there is a mechanism. a way to fix what broke.
instead you feel something tightening quietly in your chest. because neither of you sounds like you are talking about a problem anymore. you sound like you are talking about a choice.
later that night, after everything has gone quiet again, you somehow end up curled up by his side. his warmth radiating over you. it's comforting in a way you have never felt before.
valko breaks the silence first, "if i leave through this event" he says, "i will return to a world where i was never completed."
you look at him. this is closest you have been. you notice every bit of texture on his face. and for a moment he is as real as he as ever been.
"and you will remain here."
you swallow, "we should probably fix this."
it should sound certain but it doesn't.
valko studies your expressions for a moment. looking for any hint of doubt or sadness.
then says, quietly brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, "i do not think i want to be undone."
that word lands differently than everything before it. undone. not returned. not reset.
then you say, "neither do i"
ever since discovering there was another celestial event approaching, sleep had become a stranger. not because you were afraid. at least, that's what you kept telling yourself.
you had spent days searching for an answer—for a way to undo the impossible, to return valko to the world he came from if such a thing was even possible. but now that there was finally a lead, now that there was something tangible to work toward, yet...you couldn't bring yourself to keep researching. every article about the eclipse felt less like hope and more like a countdown. you caught yourself looking at the calendar far too often. every crossed-off day tightened something in your chest.
and somehow neither of you could bring yourself to speak about it anymore. valko lingered near open windows. he spent longer on the balcony at night. sometimes you would catch him standing perfectly still, his attention fixed on the moon.
"what is it?" you asked once.
he didn't look away. the gravitation pull drawing him closer.
"it feels..." he searched for the word, "louder."
"the moon? i don't hear it."
his brow furrowed slightly, "i feel it."
you remembered what he'd told you before. the closer the full moon became...the harder it was to ignore the wolf within him.
but that night, neither of you slept. the clock on your nightstand read 2:07 a.m. you sighed and threw the blankets aside. just like the night he arrived. you stepped into the living room to see the balcony door was already open. moonlight spilled across the floor and valko stood outside, one hand resting lightly against the railing.
he turned as you approached, "you couldn't sleep."
it wasn't a question. you leaned against the doorframe.
"neither could you."
a quiet smile touched his lips, "no."
the night air was cool and the city was unusually still. you looked up at the moon hung low and bright above the rooftops.
"come on."
he glanced at you, "where?"
you smiled faintly, "just around the block."
"but it's late."
"exactly." you slipped your shoes on, "there won't be anyone around."
after a moment's consideration...he nodded.
you had grown so used to seeing valko in disguises that it took you a second to realize something was different. halfway down the quiet sidewalk, you looked over—and stopped walking. he wasn't wearing his cap. the breeze stirred his short red hair away from his forehead. nestled among the crimson strands were two soft wolf ears, tipped with darker fur, as naturally as if they'd always belonged there.
one ear twitched. valko noticed your silence.
he looked over, "what is it?"
you couldn't answer immediately. you were too busy staring.
"your ears..."
understanding dawned across his face. instinctively, his hand lifted to cover them.
"i apologize. i should have concealed them."
"no!" the word came faster than you intended. "they're..." you smiled before you could stop yourself. "beautiful."
for perhaps the first time since he'd arrived in your world...valko looked genuinely surprised.
"you think so?"
"i know so."
he watched you for a long moment. his golden eyes turning brighter.
"i forgot that they were visable." he admitted quietly
"the moon?"
he nodded, "it becomes... difficult."
you stepped closer, very slowly. "so this is what you meant."
one flicked again at a distant sound you couldn't hear.
you laughed softly, "can i ask something?"
"you may."
you hesitated for a moment. then almost whispered, "can i...touch them?"
the question seemed to catch him completely off guard. for a heartbeat, he simply looked at you. then...he nodded bringing his head down to meet your height.
you reached up carefully and your fingertips brushed impossibly soft fur. one ear twitched beneath your touch and valko inhaled sharply.
"i'm sorry!" you pulled your hand back immediately.
"did i hurt—"
"no." his voice was breathier than before but his hand reached up to your wrist to hold it in place against the weight of his ear.
you laughed, relief washing through you, "they're softer than i imagined."
he peered up to look at your expression, "i wasn't aware you'd imagined them."
the two of you continued walking beneath the moon, unaware that across the street, someone walking their dog had stopped. their phone rose slowly. the camera zoomed in. the recording lasted only twelve seconds. it was uploaded before sunrise with the caption —
i went for a walk at 2 a.m. and... am i losing my mind, or is this literally valko from love and deepspace?"
you didn't know any of it — not yet. you returned home just before three. for the first time you dragged him into your bedroom. your safe space. and fell asleep on the bed, your body curled up against his while an old movie played quietly in the background.
valko stayed awake because he knew these moments had become precious. because he had someone he wanted to protect. the eclipse drew closer. and somewhere, beyond the safety of your apartment, twelve seconds of borrowed happiness had already begun spreading across the internet.
the day of the eclipse arrives quietly. no warning that the world is about to ask both of you to make a choice neither of you is ready for.
it is simply another day. one that hangs over the apartment from the moment you wake. neither of you mentions it as you cross it off on your calendar. not while making breakfast or while washing dishes. but every glance at the clock reminds you that time is moving whether you want it to or not.
by evening, the silence has become unbearable.
"i can't stay here."
across the room, he looks up immediately concern washing over his face, "you wish to leave?"
"if we're going to wait..." you force a weak smile. "i'd rather not do it staring at four walls."
he studies your expression. not that he really needed to. his senses had been hightened. he could physcially smell your emotions
"you've been afraid all day."
you laugh softly, "i've been pretending not to be."
the looming eclipse and the exposure of valko has been the only thing on your mind. they know now without a doubt that he exists in this world - that he is with you.
he stands without another word, "then let's go."
"i used to come here sometimes," you say after a while. "when things became...too much."
the woods sit just outside the city. far enough away that the skyline is only a distant glow beyond the trees. the air is cooler than usual. everything smells clean after the afternoon rain. you walk slowly along an old trail, your flashlight mostly forgotten at your side. tonight, the full moon is bright enough to guide you.
your hand finds his without thinking as his fingers lace with yours almost immediately. you shouldn't be touching, what if he goes all wolf mode and mauls you. you should be afraid of that possibility. except you aren't. because you trust him now. more than you have ever trusted anyone in your real life.
he looks around, "it is peaceful."
"it usually helps me think." you sigh
"is it helping?"
you shake your head, adjusting your grip on his hand giving it a tight squeeze. a reminder he is still here.
as the moon climbs higher, you notice the changes in him beginning. his hearing sharpens first, head turns toward sounds you can't detect. leaves rustling somewhere deeper in the forest. an owl taking flight. the distant snap of a branch.
then his eyes. their familiar gold grows brighter, almost reflecting the moonlight.
finally...his ears. they appear gradually this time. the breeze catches the dark tips of the fur.
"i can hear your heartbeat."
your breath catches, "can you?"
he nods, "it changes when you're worried."
you look away, embarrassed, "i was hoping you couldn't tell."
"i always can."
it was true. it didn't take super werewolf powers to figure you out. just gentle observation.
you find a small clearing where the trees part just enough to reveal the sky. the eclipse has begun. a shadow slowly creeps across the moon. the forest grows strangely still. even the insects seem to quiet. you sit together on an old fallen log.
finally, you whisper, "if this works...you could disappear tonight."
the words sound unreal like saying them aloud might make them true.
he takes a deep breath before asking, "and if i do?"
you swallow the forming lump in your throat, "i'll have to keep living."
now he looks at you, "you say that as though it's difficult."
"it will be."
the confession escapes before you can stop it and you close your eyes.
"i wasn't supposed to..." your voice cracks, "fall in love with someone who wasn't even supposed to exist."
the forest is silent carrying your words far away.
"i kept telling myself this was temporary."
you laugh once through the tears gathering in your eyes.
"but somewhere along the way..." you finally meet his gaze, "you stopped feeling that way."
he reaches for your face carefully, as though afraid you'll disappear if he moves too quickly. his thumb brushes away a tear before it can fall.
"i have been trying to understand what i feel."
his voice is barely louder than the wind.
"at first i believed it was instinct. then i believed it was a memory. but neither explanation remained true."
his eyes never leave yours, "the life i remember belongs to someone i no longer recognize."
his hand slips gently to cup your jaw while the other moves to guide you by the waist closer to him.
"the choices i have made since arriving here...they belong only to me."
the eclipse darkens another fraction of the moon as your vision blurs.
"i love you."
the words leave you before fear can stop them.
"i know this situation is impossible, and maybe it's selfish, and maybe i should want to send you back, but..."
your voice breaks, "i don't want to lose you."
he rests his forehead against yours. steadying himself. anchoring his emotions to the one thing he can control. his feelings for you.
"i love you...my mate."
the world seems to stop and for one perfect moment there is nothing except the two of you. lips nearly meeting to solidify a bond. then—flashlights.
"over there!"
voices echo through the trees and the spell shatters. he turns immediately, creating a shield between you and the approaching lights.
several figures emerge from the darkness wearing jackets marked with the developer's logo.
one steps forward, "there he is."
another raises a hand towards you, "please remain calm."
you let out a disbelieving laugh, "calm?"
"we're not here to hurt either of you." another voice says
"we're here to resolve an unprecedented situation."
the lead representative looks directly at him, "you don't belong here."
before he can answer, you step in front of him, "no!"
the representative's attention shifts to you, "we understand you're emotionally involved—"
"you don't understand anything!" your anger surprises even yourself.
the representative remains annoyingly composed, "this isn't the time—"
you take another step forward, "it is exactly the time! you decided his story was over. you treated him like defective data. and now that he's standing in front of you..."
you gesture toward him, "breathing, thinking, choosing..."
your voice trembles, "now you suddenly remember he's valuable."
"this isn't about value." the man says to you
"no?" you laugh bitterly, "then why did it take him becoming real for you to come looking?"
another member of the team moves closer. the word 'developer' written on the pocket of the jacket.
"we need him to come with us voluntarily."
"he has a name!" you snap.
the developer finally looks past you, "for what it's worth..." he speaks directly to the wolf, "the decision is yours."
the clearing falls silent. the moon slips deeper into shadow and the air begins to hum. leaves lift from the ground without wind. the world itself seems to hold its breath.
for the first time in valko's life...no one else can choose his story. only him.
no one moves as the eclipse has swallowed nearly the entire moon. the air vibrates with a strange pressure. valko's claws and canines now growing to their full size.
the employees remain several feet away, careful not to provoke him further.
"look you've become something we never anticipated."
another member steps forward carrying a small tablet, "the anomaly is stabilizing."
the director nods, "the eclipse is creating a temporary bridge. if you choose to return, we believe we can restore you to your world."
then he looks at you, "if you choose to remain...we cannot predict the consequences."
you instinctively tighten your grip on his hand. every atom in your body screaming at you to run. to take him away and hide somewhere in these woods.
the representative notices as your panic begins to set in
"so...what's it going to be?"
no one argues. no one tells him what his purpose should be. no one writes the next line for him.
he closes his eyes, a faint salty rim of tears appearing as he turns toward you.
"you once told me something."
"i did?"
"you said that being alive meant choosing."
he smiles gently, "i finally understand."
Ending One
he reaches for both of your hands, "i have thought about the world i left. the one that was created for me."
he pauses, "but i have never felt more alive than i do in this world...with you."
he turns to speak directly to the crowd of professionals in white lab coats.
"i have learned what it means to live. to choose. to fall in love."
he smiles as he wraps his furry burgundy tail around your waist.
"i appreciate what you created but...i am no longer your creation."
the eclipse brightens and the strange light surrounding him begins to fade instead of pulling him away.
the representative watches quietly, as the earth around valko accepts and grounds him as one of it's own children.
"understood."
another member protests, "we can't just—"
the man interrupts, "if he has the ability to choose...then our responsibility is to respect it."
infold moved on again, no relaunch, no new love interests. some players continued while others like yourself stopped playing all together. at times part of you felt guilty that you couldn't share him with the world, but this version of him was yours.
slowly he began building his own life. he learned about computer science and mechanical engineering. determined to make the world a more "user friendly" place.
one night after a long day of working on his passion project, there you both were, standing on the same balcony where everything began.
he slips an arm around your waist, "you know...what would you have done if you hadn't opened the balcony door that night?"
you laughed slightly nudging him in the side, "i probably would've gone back to bed...or called the cops."
"oh really and how would you have explained that to them? you thought you were dreaming."
"sometimes i still wonder if i am..." you say softly as you looked up at the night sky.
there was no eclipse. no portals. no one chasing you. this time it was just the two of you.
"want me to prove this is real?" he asks eyes flickering to your lips.
you didn't need to answer. his hand cupped your cheek. and when his lips met yours, the kiss was soft and unhurried. a promise of a choice unbroken.
when you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested together.
he smiled nuzzling his chin against the top of your head, "see you didn't pinch yourself this time."
you wrapped your arms around his waist, "i don't have to anymore."
Ending Two
the wolf stands quietly beneath the eclipsed moon. then he smiles, sadly yet also peacefully.
"when i first arrived...i believed this world was my home."
he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
"you taught me what ordinary life felt like. you taught me love."
tears spill freely down your cheeks, "so stay." the words break apart as you say them, "please."
he closes his eyes for just a moment, "if i stay...millions of people lose someone they have been waiting for."
you shake your head, "they'll be okay."
"but i know they won't."
he smiles sadly, "because i remember the look on your face when we met. i remember what you showed me that night."
he glances toward the representatives, "it was hope...that i would return."
he looks back at you, unable to hold back his own tears "i finally understand why i was created."
"it's not to belong to a company but to remind people that stories can make them feel less alone."
you begin crying harder, "i don't want to let you go."
he presses his forehead against yours, "i know. and if our lives had been different..."
he smiles gently, solemnly, "i would have stayed."
the eclipse reaches its peak as golden light surrounds him.
"i will remember this life." he whispers holding onto you for as long as he can. memorizing your touch.
"i will remember you."
"and every time someone chooses kindness..."
he kisses your forehead gently, "i think a part of me will find its way back here."
you force yourself to release his hand. not because you want to but because you love him enough to let him choose. he steps backward into the light. the forest glows. then— he is gone.
six months later, the game relaunches his story. the announcement crashes every server within minutes. when you finally load into the opening chapter...he appears exactly as you remember.
for just a second he looks directly toward the screen. a glimmer flickering in his eye, almost as though he recognizes you.
you smile through your tears, "welcome home."
a/n: yeah....soooo im crying i want him back so bad and i want to remain hopeful so that is what against all odds i will choose to do.
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Taking a bath with your Step Father!Toji was never apart of the plan.
cw: 18+ mdni, smut, use of Daddy/Dad (idgaf, let’s get gross), cheating, age gap (24 year old reader, 40 something Toji)
You’d fucked him once for the hell of it, just to compare your boyfriend to someone else.
Only to realize: your boyfriend was terrible in bed. Sure the thing hanging around in his pants was just a little bit smaller than Toji— you could work with that. But what’s the point if you don’t know what do with it.
And you’re no fucking teacher.
So maybe you did break up with your boyfriend over text, and you’re still avoiding Toji like the plague because of how frustratingly good he is in bed. But he’s old enough to be your father, on paper your step father. And your mom— well, you don’t know if she actually likes Toji or not because she’s always has a reason to not be in the house.
Did Toji give a fuck about your mom? Not enough, if he cornered you in your bedroom to take a bath with him. You weren’t a fucking child who needed help bathing, and when you went in for one more refute, Toji had thrown you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, a harsh smack to the ass. A low grumble, “Didn’t know havin kids would be this hard.”
You pressed your back against the tub, ducking low enough into ghr bubbles and steaming water that yhe curls at your nape were dampening. Toji across from you, long legs sprawled out on each side of you leaned back on the edge of the bathtub and filling the steamy air with even more smoke from the cigarette he had between his fingers.
The end of his lips twitch, hiding a smirk while exhaling smoke from his lips, muscles unconsciously flexing as his eyes linger to yours. “Won’t you sit back, huh? I don’t gonna bite.”
That’s not true, when you’d finally announced you’d gotten yourself a boyfriend, this old fuck left bite marks all between your pretty thighs. No intention of stopping till you were creaming his tongue so hard he had to yank it out, green eyes more than satisfied at the way you passed out and the way he knew you wouldn’t be able to go near your boyfriend for a while.
Your eyes squint together in irritation, heart pounding, “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“To give you your second lesson,” eyes trailing your pretty neck, to your collarbone, to water droplets that drop down your chest that’s just below the water. “For your boyfriend ‘nd such, right?”
“You’re just some perv wanting to get in my pants.” You try and snarl, but it comes out like you’re temping him, the way he slowly makes his way over to you, waves forming in the water. Putting out the ciggerette in the ashtray and trapping your body in, veins popping out in his arms, legs entangled in yours, you can feel his heavy and thick length probing your thigh. He grips your chin with his fingers, a scuff of a laugh felt against your full lips, “Yeah, probably.”
“Gonna let me take of her or you gonna waste time till your ma gets back?”
Toji knows he’s not fitting it all in tonight, maybe if he really wanted you fucked out and stupid. But it’s really a lesson this time, ‘how to use a man to make yourself feel good.’
Maybe that’s what’s really getting him off tonight, how pretty you look in the bathrooms warm hue, water droplets dripping down your skin, down your pretty nipples that’s brushing against his face, hips gyrating to fit his thick cock in your tight hole. Breaking through every ring of resistance of your cunt as you slowly bounce on him, gripping his broad shoulders so tight little moons are forming into his skin.
“Jiii, please-” you whine out, only managed to get half of him inside, but you know that feeling. Know what it feels like to have his strawberry cockhead knocking against every perfect spot inside you— no you needed it. You roll your hips once more, hiccuping as you gush around him more.
He shakes his head, hand gripping on your waist, jaw locked as he tries his best to contain himself, “Can take a little more, be a good girl f’me.”
You let out a groan of frustration, hips trembling as you bounce down faster, water slashing out of the tub and onto the tile floor. But it’s good, so fucking good the way the burn of his cock stretching you out with every inch your glistening pussy is taking. Filling your cunt like you’ve been dying for. How your ass smacks against Tojis thick thighs everytime you bunny hop on him.
“Look at you kid,” he drawls out, grunting hoarsely, “look pretty fuckin- shit Princess- fuckin your old man, aren’t you doll. All you had to do was come get me.”
Your teeth grinding against each other, pushing his back into the wall of the bath as tide him harder, “Mmm- shut up Toji, s-shut the fuck- nnngh!”
The fat weeping tip brushes against your g-spot, making you squeal out, hips going to leap up but Toji sits you back down on it. Rough and deep, your back arching, swiveling your hips to try to feel it again. Use him just the way he likes but you let out a pretty whine, salvating for more, Toji to take the lead.
You so adorably pout, “Toji- come on!”
“Nooo,” he chides, “you say it, tell me what you need.” His hands trail up and down your torso, dancing across your skin that’s got you all hot. Needy, wanting—
Your head tilts in defeat, hands going up his beefy biceps, “I- aaangh- need your help- Toj-“
“Need your help what?” His ears perk up, titling your head towards him.
You keen out, so melodically it almost turns the man to mush, “Daddy, please.”
It makes him all the more harder, hand wrapped behind the back of your neck, the other gripping your waists as he uses your hip to plow up into you. He’s relentless, making sure his cock is pressing against your sweet spot over and over with every brutal thrust. You moan into his mouth, letting the older man entangle his tongue with yours. Sinister smirk and biting your lip, “Course Dad’ll help you out.”
It’s sloppy and nasty, your sopping pussy sucking him up, the water you can feel inside you with every thrust, skin slapping against each other everytime he jackhammers inside you. The way the water shakes and waves everytime he grinds you down against him. Only letting out mewls and moans as he drills into your warm heat.
“This greedy fuckin pussy, grippin on me like this, heh- can your boyfriend handle all this sweetheart?” He teases, nibbling at your chest and down to your hardened areolas, “don’t think he can babydoll,” your walls clench around him, “you pooooor thing.”
Your fingers rake through his wet jet black hair, toes curling as Tojis mouth wrapping around your nipple to suck it. You’re feverish, eyes rolling into your skull, body bursting into ecstasy as your climax hits you. Toji groaning out your name as he manages to slip out in the knick of time, his cum spurting into ghr bath water.
Heavy panting fills the echoing bathroom, water dripping from the faucet.
Then you feel the tip of his cock, brush against your buzzing clit that makes you squirm, warning, “Toji!”
The older man runs his tip all over it, smearing his cum with yours, “Not gonna get soft on its own baby.”
He bends you forward just enough, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders, chest to chest. Toji whispers in your ear, “Juust to your ma gets home, promise.”
One more round wouldn’t hurt anybody, least— not till the front door to the house opened 30 minutes later.
a/n: this giving me the buzzy feeling of the moans on Keep it Cool by Kelela.
ა ˙˖ summary → there’s no one you hate more than satoru gojo. he’s arrogant and entirely too full of himself. when you agree to be strictly enemies with benefits, gojo takes this as the perfect opportunity to finally make you his.
ა ˙˖ content: 12.3k wc, accurate portrayal of fraternities so the boys are jerks srry, hazing, rough sex, spit play, overstimulation, spanking, choking, desperate gojo, you really hate him so not much fluff this chapter! probably more I can't name rn. it's a lot.
frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader
When you first got your acceptance letter to your dream school three years ago, you never thought it would end up with you in this position. The side of your face pressed into the cold wooden desk by the hand of your enemy, your shorts and panties dropped to your ankles, his cock slamming into you so hard that your research papers and pens go flying to the library floor.
The sound of the legs creaking fill the study room room, his pace ruthless, long fingers digging into your cheek to keep you down as you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying out his name and begging him to go harder.
One might wonder how you, the notorious frat hater, ended up letting a playboy like Gojo Satoru get into your pants not once, not twice, but eight times in the last two weeks after swearing he was your number one enemy.
It all started the first day of uni when you let your roommate Shoko convince you into going to a sorority party after a long day of classes and reading syllabuses.
You had been minding your own business, laying on your too small bed with your headphones blaring music as you scrolled through Instagram and pretended like your mom hadn’t been trying to call you for the past twenty minutes.
She was probably calling to check in since she thought you were just getting out of practice, given that you lied about making the gymnastics team to get her off your back. You never even signed up, never had interest in it but had been forced into it as a child. Your mother always told you that one day you’d make it to the olympics and while you were good at it, you had no plans on doing such a thing.
So when her name pops up again, you hit the red button and put your phone on dnd. It was nine, you would just tell her you were asleep.
When you went to play your music again, your roommate walks in and immediately locks eyes with you, a grin spreading on her face that has you squinting suspiciously.
You really liked Shoko. You officially met two weeks ago when you were finally allowed to start moving your stuff in and you had both bonded surprisingly quick over the short period of time, spending almost every day together exploring the campus and surrounding city. Which means you were starting to differentiate between her smiles and the one she wore now told you she wanted to ask you something.
“Thank god you’re still up!” She practically skips into the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
You sigh and sit up, removing an earbud. You pull your rising shorts down and cross your arms with a raised brow. She moved to stand in front of your bed, biting her bottom lip and failing to contain her excitement.
“Spit it out already.”
“There’s a sorority party in an hour and I got invited which means by extension you’re invited and puhleasee, don’t make me go by myself!”
You tried everything to get out of going, from feigning illness to lying that you had to be up early tomorrow for class even though you both basically had the same schedule and your morning was lecture free.
You weren’t a boring person, you partied a lot in high school but this was college and even though you had no clue what you wanted to major in yet, this was where you truly needed to lock in and focus on getting good grades.
Unfortunately for you, Shoko wasn’t having any of it. For every excuse you came up with, she had an argument against it. You don’t wanna be hungover? Fine, just don’t drink! You’re tired? You’re only nineteen, you can rest when you’re dead!
“When your kids ask what you were like in college, are you gonna tell them that you were a loser who sat in her dorm all day or that you were young, hot, and knew how to have fun?”
She had a point. It was just one party, what harm was there in enjoying yourself for a night? If you didn’t like it, you would simply leave. Plus it was at a sorority. You could manage that, though you couldn’t say the same for frats.
You’d die before being caught in one of those.
Fraternities were the embodiment of hell, nothing good ever happened at any of them based on the horror stories your older sister told you while helping you pack for uni. Sweaty, packed rooms, obnoxious men that only wanted to get in your pants, stale beer and hazing were far from your kind of parties.
Fate, as it would turn out, had different plans in store for you.
You had begrudgingly squeezed into a tight dress, letting Shoko fix your hair and makeup before she was dragging you out the door and into her car.
When you guys pulled up outside of the sorority house, the scene before you was far from what a typical party looked like. The lights were mostly off except for a few rooms that were still lit and it was eerily quiet outside, no loud music or drunk college students dancing around the lawn.
Shoko had assured you that it wouldn’t be as hectic as a frat party would but you hadn't expected it to be deader than your social life. You turn and glare at your friend in the driver's seat who looks just as confused as you do.
What the fuck was this? You could have been in bed, doom scrolling through TikTok and here you were, dressed up for a party that apparently wasn’t even happening.
“I’ll go check, give me a minute.” Shoko mummers, hitting her vape before jogging up to the front door.
Your leg anxiously bounces up and down while you wait, watching as she knocks and someone with purple hair opens the door a few seconds later. You can’t hear anything but the conversation seems heated and brief before your roommate is stomping back to the car, annoyance evident on her face.
“The party is canceled. Someone got the flu and the entire sorority is sick.”
You fight to hide your smile, not wanting to rub it in Shoko's face since she was already upset. As much as it sucks that someone was sick, you couldn’t deny that you were happy. You didn’t want to go out in the first place and now you could-
“Buut.” Shoko sings, eyes twinkling as she looks at you with that same smile from earlier.
“There is another party happening like ten minutes away.”
“Great.”
It was far from fucking great when you pulled up in front of what was obviously a fraternity. The white house was big enough that it was basically a mansion, it had a flag with greek letters flying and the amount of people out front alone made you sick, the music loud enough that you heard it from the opposite side of the street.
You hadn’t signed up for this, you wanted no parts in it.
“Absouletly not. Take me back.”
“Stop.” Shoko’s eyes were pleading, her bottom lip poking out. “We’re already here and you promised you’d be my wingman. Wingwoman. Whatever.”
“I didn't promise shit. You said we’d be going to a sorority party, not a frat!” Your cheeks heated in irrational anger, even though you knew it wasn’t her fault.
She had no idea how much you despised fraternities but it didn’t mean you’d be going to one just because she was putting on her best puppy face, big brown eyes shining and silently begging for you to say yes.
“One hour. If you still hate it, we leave. But you’re already here, might as well give it a chance.”
You look back toward the house, your stomach twisting and heart racing a little faster. You weighed the pros and cons. If you did agree to go, you'd probably end up drinking more than you should and wake up with a nasty hangover. You’d also be breaking your promise to yourself and your sister to never step foot in a fraternity.
Maybe it was unfair that you let a handful of horror stories shape your perception of them but it wasn’t as if they came from nowhere. You had watched the news, seen the headlines. Hazing. Alcohol poisoning. Freshmen being pressured into doing things they probably never wanted to do.
Your older sister had made sure you knew exactly what kind of places to avoid when you left for college, and frat houses had been at the very top of her list.
But then again, you had waited for this moment since you got your acceptance letter. To meet new people, make new memories outside of your shitty hometown and to truly experience college life.
You were nineteen. What was the harm in going to one party? You’d appease Shoko, confirm your thoughts that frats were terrible and never step foot in one again.
One night couldn’t ruin your entire college experience. Right?
You sighed and let Shoko pull your hand until you were walking through the front door and the smell of stale booze, and musky body heat hit you, the music rattling the speakers. The living room had been stripped of anything breakable and replaced with white folding tables sticky with spilled drinks and red solo cups.
A group of guys were playing beer pong, shouting as the ball flew too far and rolled under a couch. Further into the house, a girl was setting up a karaoke machine and slurring the lyrics to the Pitbull song that was playing, almost tumbling off the table.
The scene made you itch, your feet already hurting from the heels you’d been forced to wear. You let Shoko guide you through the crowd anyways, scowling at the way a few shirtless guys eyed you like you were nothing more than a piece of candy. She led you toward the kitchen, hand wrapped tight around yours, where a group had gathered around the island counter.
A tall guy with long black hair tied back noticed you first, grinning at Shoko and holy fuck he was hot.
“Shoko, I didn’t expect to see you here!” He raises his red solo cup in the air. “And you bought a friend.”
“This is my roommate, (name).” Shoko tugs you forward until you’re standing by her side. “Be nice to her, will you? She’s already planning my funeral for bringing her here.”
He nods at you, tossing back the rest of his drink and your knees go weak because he had to be one of the hottest guys you’d ever seen in your life.
“Geto Suguru but you can call me Suguru. Any friend of Shoko’s is a friend of mine.” He sticks his hand out and you wipe yours on your dress before reaching over the island and taking his into yours.
“Nice to meet you.” You force a shaky smile, pulling your hand back.
When you ask how they know each other, Suguru explains that they went to high school together but Shoko had decided to take a gap year and travel the country.
Shoko introduces you to the rest of her friend group. There was Choso, a guy with two ponytails and a scar across his nose. His girlfriend, Yuki, was nice enough even though you were sure she was flirting with you. Nanami, who seemed entirely too sweet to be there and next to him was the human incarnation of a golden retriever, Haibara.
After introductions were over, they pulled you into a game of flip cup and you were surprisingly good at it. The satisfaction of slamming your cup down before Choso was enough to make you forget where you were, cheap booze loosening you up and allowing you to truly enjoy yourself. Even if some asshole kept bumping into your ass and forgetting to apologize.
You even let Shoko and Yuki drag you to do karaoke, stupidly singing Promiscuous and moving your hips in circles, hair loose and falling into your flushed face. You hadn’t noticed the way Suguru watched you with a smirk, arms crossed while someone whispered something in his ear.
It only took an hour for you to be reminded that frats were in fact the root of all evil, your short lived fantasy that maybe you were wrong crashing down when he decided to show up.
You felt him before you saw him, your skin tingling as you sat on the couch and nursed a headache while actively fighting the urge to throw up, half listening to the group's conversation. You had just been about to tap Shoko and invoke your one-hour rule when the energy in the room shifted. The sea of people were parting to make way for someone, a few petrified freshmen scrambling to get out of the way.
When enough people cleared, two of the most unique looking men you’d ever seen came into view.
Now let’s get one thing straight: you were far from a pick me, never had been and you never would be. However, even you weren’t immune to the rare moment of being so mesmerized by the beauty of a man that you just stare with your mouth slightly agape.
One of them had pink hair and tattoos covering his face and massive arms. He was kind of scary looking but in the hottest way possible. It was a shame he already had someone on his arm. Then there was the guy next to him, with a backwards hat that white hair slipped out of and eyes so blue they looked fake.
Your brain short-circuited for exactly half a second. Fuck. He was in fact the hottest man you’d ever seen, forget what you said earlier. Objectively. Scientifically, whatever. It wasn’t even a matter of opinion, just facts.
He was lean and tall with the face of a god, a pointy nose and full lips and you had to squeeze your thighs together when he looked in your direction, though his eyes weren’t on you.
Shoko notices you staring and smirks. “Oh right. I forgot you haven’t met Gojo yet!”
“What?” You finally blink, glaring at your friend. “I wasn’t-”
“Satoru!” Shoko waved him over. “Come here, I want you to meet someone.”
Gojo locked eyes with her and smiled, leaning to whisper something to the man he had walked in with and handing him the case of beer he was carrying before moving toward the couch you were currently gripping.
He was even more handsome up close, the smell of his cinnamon cologne cutting through the stench of sweaty bodies and alcohol. It was too bad he had to open his mouth and ruin everything.
“Shoko.” His voice vibrates through you more than the music does, and it makes you feel pathetic. Since when have you ever let a man affect you like this? “Making new friends already?”
“This is my roommate,” Shoko says, gesturing toward you and tells him your name. “Play nice.”
When he turned those big blue eyes on you, your breath got caught in your throat, his smile widening as he held out his hand. “Well hello there. I’m Satoru, sophomore and president of this fine establishment.”
Sophomore and president of an entire frat? You didn’t want to think of what kind of douchebag he had to have been to pull that off. You reluctantly shake his hand and pull it away faster than you did Suguru’s, your mouth growing sour.
“You’re a quiet one.” He plops down on the couch between you and Shoko and you feel your irritation growing, your headache picking back up, mood completely ruined just from a few words. “It’s the hair, right? Or the eyes? Most people say the eyes. I get it, I’m a lot to process.”
He throws an arm on the couch behind you, leaning back and spreading his legs just wide enough to piss you the fuck off. Fuck this guy!
“Wow,” You say flatly, moving from under his arm and turning to face him. “Do you practice being insufferable, or does it just come naturally?”
Shoko snorts into her cup while Suguru who had been sitting next to her lets out a “oh shit” under his breath. This was his and Satoru’s second year here and he had never heard anyone snap at his friend.
Gojo’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew as he leaned into your space. “Naturally. It’s a gift, but I’m sensing some hostility, sweetheart. Are you not enjoying yourself? I’m sure I can show you a better time upstairs.”
You wanted to throttle him. So this is what your sister was trying to warn you about? What a fucking idiot you were to doubt her for even a second.
“I’d rather eat glass then let you touch me.”
He simply laughs at that, moving a little closer and forcing you to awkwardly lean back, heat creeping up your neck and to your ears. He was close enough to kiss you and you were about to smack him until he smiled and moved to stand up.
“Nice to meet you, freshman. Maybe I’ll see you around, yeah?”
He disappears into the crowd and you want the floor to swallow you whole. You try to stay for the sake of your friend but each passing minute proves why you’d never show your face at these parties again.
People were passing out from how drunk they were, someone had almost thrown up on your shoes and to top it all off, loud cheers were sounding from the backyard. You were about to tell Shoko it was time to go when she started running toward the back door to see what was going on and you reluctantly followed.
The sight made your blood boil. Standing side by side was Gojo and the pink haired guy from earlier who you’d learn was Sukuna. There was a third guy with them, tall with broad shoulders, dark messy hair and a scar on his lip.
A line of freshmen boys stood at the edge of the pool, each looking paler than the last. Sukuna was barking out orders and you watched in horror as they began to take off their shirts and then their shoes and pants.
People were laughing, clapping and yelling for them to take off their underwear. You glared at the guy who said that, but he just shrugged and turned back to the show. Several phones appeared in the air despite Gojo’s threats that anyone caught recording would have them smashed.
This was so fucking sick.
The poor guys looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole and just when you moved to put an end to this, an arm reached out to stop you. You snapped your head up, ready to lay into the person until a familiar set of dark eyes stared down at you.
Suguru.
“Get off of me.” You say through gritted teeth, pure anger making your heart beat faster and your blood pump harder.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” He warns you and you suddenly hate him as much as his prick of a friend, snatching away from him and turning back to the scene unfolding.
Without an ounce of sympathy, Gojo clapped his hands together and nodded to the freshmen, his shorts hanging loose on his hips.
"No need to be nervous. We've all got the same equipment!”
"If you're too embarrassed to strip," The scarred lip dude shouts over the cheering crowd. "you're probably too soft to wear our letters anyway."
A little motivating glare from Sukuna who looked even less interested in preserving anyone's dignity and they were stripping off the remainder of their clothes. You stared in absolute disbelief as the first pledge squeezed his eyes shut, signaled something that looked like a prayer and canonballed into the pool completely naked.
One by one the others followed and you started to push through the crowd of students, ignoring Shoko yelling your name and evading Suguru’s attempt to grab you again.
Any microscopic chance you'd had of warming up to fraternities evaporated on the spot. These people were insane, fucking psychopaths and deserved a taste of their own medicine.
By the time you reached the pool, the pledges were climbing out of the water, shivering and red-faced as older fraternity members tossed towels in their direction. They looked humiliated, their smiles not fooling you for a second.
“Hey asshole!” You shout toward the white haired douchebag, storming up to him and gaining the attention of the crowd who started to quiet down to listen to the spectacle you were creating.
Good. Let them watch!
Gojo, who had been in the middle of laughing at something Sukuna said, looked at you and the grin spreading across his face only further annoyed you. He was so fucking hot but his personality sucked!
“Couch girl!”
You ignore him, walking until you were close enough to stick your arm out and push his chest. He hardly moved but it was enough to knock that stupid smug smirk off his face for a split second before the corner of his mouth was lifting again.
"What kind of pathetic excuse for leadership is this?" You gestured toward the soaking pledges who did their best to cover themselves with their small towels as they exchanged nervous glances. "Making them strip in front of half the campus because you think it's funny?"
“It was voluntary.” Sukuna spat, folding his arms and scowling at you, but you kept your eyes on Gojo who steps a little close to you.
“Oh please. Do you really expect me to believe a bunch of freshmen are gonna tell the people deciding if they get into this fraternity or not, ‘no’?”
When someone in the crowd yelled that you had a point, Sukuna shot them a glare from the deepest pits of hell that had them shutting up and cowering back into the crowd.
Meanwhile Gojo looked thoroughly entertained, that bastard. Not a hint of embarrassment on his face as he reaches forward and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger. His carefree attitude catches you off guard and you’re dumb founded, losing yourself in his big blue eyes before snapping out of it and pushing him away again.
“You’ve known me for what..” He pulls his hand away and looks at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “Two hours and you’re already lecturing me? We're basically an old married couple already.”
Your eye twitches. You hadn’t really thought of how he would react but amusement was the furthest thing you’d expect from someone getting scolded like an insolent child.
You take a step back, not missing the way he eyes your body and your skin crawls.
“Fuck you dude! I wouldn’t let someone like you touch me with a ten foot pole, let alone let you marry me.”
He tilts his head as the crowd snickers and you grow impossibly hotter. You can feel Shoko pulling your arm but your feet are glued to the ground. It would take an act of god to get you to move before you were done saying what you had to say.
“Aww don’t be shy now. You’re making me feel self conscious too.”
The words get under your skin more than you should have let them and the look on his face, the slight glint in his eyes tells you that he knows it. Before you can rip into him, the scarred lip dude butts in, pushing between the two of you.
“Cute." He rolls his eyes. "Now either kiss or kill each other somewhere else. We've got pledges to traumatize."
You glare over his shoulder at Gojo one more time, seething at the way he winks at you, clearly finding this entire thing entertaining, before letting Shoko pull you away this time. If you saw him fifty years down the line it would still be too soon!
You had to get an uber since you and Shoko were both too tipsy to drive and you outright declined Suguru’s offer to drop you off, having had your fix of frat boys for the next century.
You rested your temple against the cool glass of the car window, nursing the dull ache forming behind your eyes while your stomach churned from the cheap vodka and lingering irritation.
Gojo Satoru.
Just thinking of his name made your jaw tighten.
He wasn't the first arrogant person you’d met. You’d known plenty in high school, cocky guys who were captains of some team or were blessed with a nice jawline and thought the world revolved around them.
Gojo surpassed all of them.
He wasn’t just cocky, but the kind of person that took everything as a joke, constantly performing and acting as if everyone around him was just a part of one big act. And the worst part about it, the part you refused to let yourself think of for more than a second because fuck that, was that he had no business looking the way he did.
It was almost offensive that someone as infuriating as him had a face that made you want to forget every sin he committed.
You would just have to try your best to stay far away from him, steer clear of frat houses, frat parties, and anywhere someone like him might possibly show up.
Later that night you and Shoko are both wide awake, laying in the dark listening to the faint sounds of the occasional car or ambulance flying by. You’re still fuming, your earlier encounter making it hard for you to find sleep.
“Hey Sho?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever invite me to anything that asshole is at again, I’ll kill you both.”
“Noted.”
That was the day you grew to hate Satoru Gojo and the day he fell in love with you.
Now here you were. Your junior year came faster than you thought it would.
In the time since you started at Jujutsu University, you joined the cheer team, made the dean’s list multiple times and built a tight knit friend group that consisted of you, Shoko, Utahime, Yuki and occasionally Suguru.
Best of all, you had mostly stuck to your promise and kept away from Gojo, with the exception of a few incidents during your sophomore year when he had decided that you would be his new target of interest. It didn’t matter that you made your disdain for him clear, he never really gave up on his desperate attempts to win you over.
One of the most memorable times was when you picked up Shoko from an invite only party and he answered the door. He was grinning, telling you that he knew you couldn’t resist him and lifting his black shades to his head, blue eyes flashing.
"This is my favorite plot twist so far."
You bit your tongue and rolled your eyes, telling him you were here for Shoko only but nothing you said would get through that massive inflated head of his.
“You were invited by the way. Why didn't you come?” He actually frowns and you fight the urge to pinch yourself because he genuinely looks like a kicked puppy and you hate the way it tugs on your heart for a split second before you remember who you’re talking to.
“Because your last party fucking sucked.”
His ticking jaw and flared nostrils were your only signs that you had finally gotten to him before he was covering it up, licking his lips and looking down at your glossed ones with a grin.
“Oh so you’re one of those girls.” He clicks his tongue, giving a dramatic shake of his head.
“Excuse me?” You cross your arms, chest already growing tight with irritation. This was supposed to be a quick pick up and somehow you ended up stuck talking to the one person you wanted to avoid.
“You know.. a judgmental stuck up bitch.”
You had smiled, pride swelling in your chest because yes.. that’s exactly what you were and you hoped that now he’d take a fucking hint and leave you alone. If you were a little meaner maybe you’d scare him away for good.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“You’re so evil.” He leans against the door frame, lowering his shades back to his face. “It’s hot, you’re just my type of girl, sweets.”
The first week of your junior year had gone great, you hadn’t seen Gojo once which was a blessing in disguise since as you would later find out, you were both majoring in psychology. Your first day of cheer practice was coming up, you and Shoko were still sharing a dorm in your third year, your professors were all amazing and you managed to score an interview for a research internship next summer.
Everything had been going in your favor.
It felt like you were on top of the world until the white haired devil himself walked into the lecture hall, dressed in a snapback, faded jeans and a football jersey. He looked out of place. Suguru was by his side as they looked for a seat and your heart was pounding as you snapped your head forward so fast it was painful, not wanting him to feel you staring.
You sunk into your seat and dipped your head.
No, no, no! What the fuck was he doing here? Did he get lost? There was no way someone like Satoru Gojo would actually be taking a psychology class without being forced into it. Suguru, maybe. Satoru? He belonged in someone's business class, maybe engineering.
There was simply no universe in which he voluntarily enrolled in social psychology.
But it didn’t matter what you thought, because he was here and you could hear him getting closer to you, his voice sending sparks down your spine. Just when you thought you were going to get lucky, the sound of a chair scraping beside you made your stomach flip.
Painfully, you turned your head just as Gojo plopped down onto the seat to your right, his cologne invading your senses. Suguru apologized as he squeezed into the thin space to slip past you, taking the seat to your left.
What a genius you were, picking a spot with two free seats on either side of you.
Fantastic. Now you were trapped and Gojo only nodded at you when you glared at him, clearly fighting a smile as he leaned back in his seat as if he’d won a battle in this silent war you’d been in for two years.
This was fine. You’d just ignore him like you always did. He thrived off of attention, so you would simply deprive him of it.
Easy enough right? That’s what you thought until he opened his mouth and you remembered just how easily he got under your skin. How good he was at provoking a reaction out of you and it didn’t help that he looked hot as fuck with his skin slightly tanned from summer break, arms and chest a little bigger.
“Would you look at that? Looks like we’re classmates now, princess.”
You tried to ignore him, really you did but whenever he was around you simply lost all sense of rationality, ten brain cells dying with every word that came out of his mouth.
“Don’t call me that.” You keep your eyes forward, trying to listen to the professor who was going over what you’d be covering this week.
“Noted, princess.”
Surprisingly, you make it through most of class without Gojo bothering you. He only looks your way once but quickly turns his head when you catch him eyeing your exposed legs and pull your skirt down, his cheek dusted a light pink.
You ignore the way you feel your ears burning from the attention, a desperate ache growing between your legs.
"Before anyone gets too comfortable, I should let you know this course revolves around a semester-long research project."
A collective groan ripples through the lecture hall but your professor smiles anyways.
"You'll be working in pairs. By the end of the semester, you'll present a research-backed analysis of interpersonal attraction and the psychological mechanisms that influence it. This isn't a project you can throw together the night before. You'll be meeting with your partner regularly throughout the term."
Partners? Fuck!
You were a smart girl, always had been but working in groups had never been your strong suit. You were hyper independent and hated relying on others to carry their weight, especially when they hardly ever did. You either ended up doing all the work yourself or none of it, there was no in between.
"To avoid everyone choosing their friends, I've paired you using a wheel spinner."
A projector illuminated the screen behind her and names began appearing in two neat columns. You leaned forward, quickly scanning for your name and when you found it, you read it again.
And again, and again until you were shaking your head no and clenching your fists.
Gojo, Satoru — [Full Name]
"...You've got to be kidding me." The words come out louder than you meant for them to, your professor looking at you with a raised brow.
“I’m afraid there will be no changes. If anyone is unsatisfied with their partner you’re welcome to make your case after class but I'm afraid my decision is final unless you are at risk of being harmed.”
Did your emotional well being count? This was disastrous, a catastrophic fuck up and you would in fact take her up on her offer and be having a word with your professor once everyone left. You’d get on your knees and beg if you had to.
Gojo’s lightly laughed beside you and you snap your head toward him with the meanest glare you can muster, eyes burning with fury.
“What could possibly be funny?”
He shrugs, biting his bottom lip and staring at your strawberry gloss covered one, not giving a fuck that you could see him checking you out. You squeeze your thighs, annoyed at the way your body was reacting to his attention, betraying you in a way that was unforgivable.
“Guess fate ships us.”
Cheer practice hadn’t gone any better. As it turned out, Gojo had joined the football team and watching him run around all sweaty with his hair sticking to his head, kicking a ball in his blue uniform, was bad for someone trying to nail down their newest routine.
The cheer gym was delayed on its remodeling and the auxiliary gym had been in use so the only free space was the football field, hence your current situation.
It was hot, and you kept fucking up your stunts, eyes lazer focused on the field, instantly finding a set of white hair whenever you got tossed in the air. He hadn’t been looking at you, instead focusing on winning the mock game between teammates.
Yet he was still a nuisance even when he wasn’t trying to be and it didn’t help that you were still fired up from your conversation with your professor from earlier. When you begged to swap places with someone else, she had told you that ‘i don’t get along with fratboys’ wasn’t a legitimate reason to switch partners and that the project was worth fifty percent of your grade so you’d better find common ground fast.
Another thing nagging at you? You had only gotten laid a handful of times in the last year. Discovering you had an abnormally high libido after losing your virginity at the end of freshman year had been rough. Every guy you tried to build something with either couldn’t last more than two rounds before tapping out or wanted something more.
You weren’t looking for a relationship, just someone to help you get off once or twice a day. Your vibrators could only do so much. You craved the real thing, but struggled to find someone who could meet your needs.
"Focus!" Your captain's voice snapped you back to reality.
You blinked, realizing you had been staring at Gojo as he power kicked the ball into the net from halfway across the field, kicking dirt up. It was hot as fuck and irritated you at the same time.
“Sorry.”
You shake your head, stepping into position and letting your bases lock their grips around your ankles before they launch you upward. The familiar rush of adrenaline hits as soon as your body lifts into the air, muscle memory taking over as you balance yourself.
You should have been focused on your counts, on the people responsible for catching you if something went wrong. What did you do instead? You let your eyes wander until they found him again, heart lurching when you saw that he was already staring at you.
He waved and even from a distance you could tell he was smirking at you, ball in his hand as he pointed at the net and lowered it back to the ground. He moved his head from side to side, looking at you one last time before kicking the ball so hard that it almost took the goalie out, slamming into the back of the net.
Your cheeks burned, the ache from earlier returning.
You were completely unaware that you were one second away from falling because your brain apparently thought watching him was more important than not breaking your neck. Stupid girl.
“Eyes up!” Your captain's voice rang through the air and you forced your gaze down, correcting your posture before your bases caught you as you landed safely.
When your feet hit the ground you exhale sharply, slightly stumbling. Gojo had gone back to playing, as if he hadn’t almost killed you by distracting you.
“Are you alright? You’ve been out of it this entire time-”
“I’m fine! Let’s go again.”
You weren’t fine. You had just discovered that your brain was your biggest enemy, betraying you with a sudden attraction to your nemesis. That psychology degree was going to be very useful, now that you needed to diagnose why Satoru had become your biggest distraction.
Remember when I said, one might wonder how you of all people ended up with Gojo between your legs? Well here’s the straw that broke your back.
With the way your day had been going, you weren’t really surprised when your shift had gone to shit within the first thirty minutes. You hadn’t even changed out of your cheer uniform and were grateful your manager was nice about it and only made you put on an apron.
You were a baker at a small shop, and while you usually only iced pastries and baked bread, the cashier had called out so you were forced to cover both positions.
After ringing up the nastiest group of teenagers, you accidentally burned an entire rack of focaccia bread and your finger in the process. Your manager was understanding and thankfully had been able to find someone to cover your shift. You weren’t happy about missing out on money but at least you could lay in your bed and relax after the shit day you had. Right?
Wrong!
Usually when Shoko has company, she texts you beforehand to let you know, so imagine your surprise when you walk into your dorm and you’re scarred for life with the sight of a random’s man ass as he fucks your friend into the mattress.
The worst part is that they don’t even notice you! No one jumps up in shock and rushes to cover themselves. They continue to fuck like animals, as if you weren’t standing in the hall in shock.
After a few seconds you realize you should probably leave, jealousy coursing through you as you slam the door and storm from the building. Even Shoko, who never showed romantic or sexual interest in anyone, was getting laid while you were barely getting by with your toys.
Fine. If you weren't going to get some rest, you could at least be productive.
The library was the perfect place to study, especially at this time of night. Most people were partying, working or if they were Shoko, getting fucked in their dorms. Libraries didn't contain drunk assholes, frat presidents trying to flirt with you or rude customers screaming at you over something you couldn’t control. It was calm. Quiet.
And closed..
You stared at the locked doors, legs aching from the walk you just took to get here, thumb still hurting from earlier. You slowly walk to the locked doors, shrugging your cheer bag over your shoulder and checking the sign posted on the front door.
CLOSED DUE TO SHORT STAFFING
The universe was working against you, repaying you for some sin you committed in a past life and deciding you weren’t even allowed one small win today. And to make matters worse, you were still in your cheer uniform and it was getting chilly out.
You blamed Gojo. All of your issues started the moment he walked into that fucking lecture hall and decided to sit next to you. You were completely distracted after that which led to a shit cheer practice, a thirty minute shift and a burnt finger, and walking in on your best friend getting fucked.
You could kill him right now and not feel an ounce of remorse, even if you logically knew it wasn’t really his fault. You had to blame someone.
You read the sign again, as if it would magically change and the library would open. It was closed and you were fucked. Simple.
Based on the rare times Shoko did bring someone to your room, it lasted a few hours but you were always at work so it had never been a problem until today.
"Unbelievable." You dropped your head back with a groan, tightening your grip on your bag and staring into the dark sky. Of course the one night you needed somewhere quiet to hide, the universe decided to laugh in your face.
You kick lightly at the pavement, annoyed at yourself more than anyone else. If you hadn’t cut off the last guy you had been sleeping with just because he tried to invite you to a frat party, maybe you’d also be getting fucked right now.
It was your own fault really. You were too stubborn for your own good, your mother would tell you. “No one will want to put up with your high demands.” as if you hadn’t gotten that trait from her. That was fine. You didn’t need anything more from a man than sex, but no one had been able to match your high drive.
“I just need…” You look at the door again, tugging the handle just in case someone had forgotten to take down the sign.
Locked.
“God dammit!”
A laugh sounded from behind you and you froze, knowing exactly who it was without even turning around. Apparently the universe hadn't finished ruining your night yet. Yay, you.
“Rough night?”
You ball your fists and take a deep breath, counting to three and fighting back tears of frustration. When you turned around, you took in a sharp breath at the sight in front of you.
Gojo was holding a textbook under his arm and wearing a brown cardigan with a blue shirt underneath, light beige pants and were those..
He was wearing glasses. Not shades but bulky glasses that made him look kinda nerdy and the sight had the hair on your arms standings and your pupils expanding. He looked like a completely different person but you could tell it was him from the signature smirk he wore.
He stares at you with a titled head and you swallow the spit forming in your mouth. You weren’t seriously thirsty over Gojo right now, right? I mean, you knew you were sex deprived but he was everything you stood against so why were you staring at him like he was the best thing to walk the earth since Jesus himself?
“What are you doing here?”
“Came to study. Crazy concept, right?”
Your hand tightens around the handle of your bag, eyes drifting back to the textbook he was holding, though that was far from what you were staring at. Since when did Gojo have such huge hands and why were you attracted to his veins protruding as he grips the book?
“For you, yeah.”
“Ouch.” He laughs, soft and gentle and the sound has your pussy clenching against nothing. No fucking way was your body betraying you right now. You had never in your life clenched at a laugh, nor grown wet at the sight of someone and yet it was happening no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.
Gojo hadn’t even touched you, nor made any kind of sexual joke like he typically would and yet you were acting like a cat in heat.
“You really think so little of me? I’m kind of heartbroken.”
Yes. But you don’t say it, just look back at the dark building in defeat. Gojo notices and looks over your shoulder, his own sagging as he mumbles something you can’t understand.
“That’s unfortunate. You need somewhere to study, sweets? We can go to my place.”
You’re turning to him so fast your head spins, shoulders stiff as you prepare to lay into him but he beats you before you can even open your mouth, hands come up defensively.
“Not at the frat, I only live there part time. I have an apartment off campus, and a desk we can use.”
He waits for you to say something before giving up and sighing in exhaustion. You could tell he was annoyed but you didn’t care. If he was going to try to get you back to his place, he’d have to try a little harder than whatever this was.
“We should probably study together anyways right? You know, since we’re partners now..”
You should have said no, told him to fuck off but he did have a point. The library was closed, your roommate was otherwise occupied, and the faster you and Gojo finished your project, the sooner you’d never have to see each other again.
"One hour."
His grin appeared immediately as he held his free hand out to you. "Knew you couldn't resist me."
You scuff and move past him, getting into the passenger seat and making sure you glared out the window the entire ride there.
Gojo didn’t live far, no more than twenty minutes away from campus and you were grateful. Being in an enclosed space with him was hard enough, especially since the entire thing smelled of that cinnamon cologne that drove you crazy.
He tried to talk to you. About football practice, the assignment, the terrible song on the radio, anything to hear your voice but you were dead set on ignoring him, answering in low grunts and one word responses.
“The uniform is hot by the way. Had no idea you were a cheerleader, but I can’t say I mind watching you while I practice. The next time you want my attention though, just ask. No need to risk cracking your head open just to look at me.”
You’re insulted, face burning but you won’t feed into this petty spat he clearly wants to have. In the two years you’ve known him and the times you had to suffer his presence, you came to learn that everything he said was to get a reaction out of you.
Not this time.
“Gojo?”
“Yes, princess?”
“Shut up.”
Gojo’s apartment smelled like expensive air freshener and a faint trace of weed he swore he didn’t smoke anymore and it was from Sukuna and Suguru who had been over earlier. You ignored him, dropping your bag on the living room floor and looking around.
It was nice. Not spotless but cleaner than you thought it would be. Most of the furniture, you noticed, was black. His couch, the tables and chairs, even the curtains.
A stack of textbooks sat on his coffee table alongside a half-empty sports drink and what looked like a few polaroids. You move to get a better look but before you can really see anything, Gojo brushes past you and snatches them.
“Tsk, nosey girl.” He clicks his tongue and moves toward the kitchen. “Do you want anything?”
An hour later, you’re full off the takeout food Gojo got delivered and knee deep in your studies. You try to ignore the fact that the desk you’re sitting at is in his fucking bedroom but if he wasn’t overreacting to it then you weren’t going to either.
The last thing you needed right now was for Gojo to get distracted. He had actually been focusing on the project, refraining from making any crude comments or staring at your breast though you’d caught him looking at your bare legs once.
"Interpersonal attraction refers to the positive feeling one person forms toward another,'" You were sitting together at his desk as he read aloud from the textbook while you took notes. "'Researchers generally agree attraction develops through a combination of biological, cognitive, behavioral, and environmental factors.'"
You typed the definition into your outline while he skimmed farther down.
"'Repeated exposure to an individual tends to increase positive feelings toward them, even in the absence of meaningful interaction.'"
You don’t miss the way he lets his shoulder bump into yours, body moving an inch closer to yours. You have to squeeze your legs and bite back the moan creeping up your throat. He was still wearing the glasses, claiming his contacts were drying his eyes and that you would have known he wore them if you spent more than five minutes around him without ripping his head off.
You clear your throat and lean your body the opposite way. "The mere exposure effect."
"Mhmm. Which basically means people annoy each other until they fall in love."
Your fingers paused over the keyboard, slightly shaking as you look over at him. He was already staring, having moved closer to you again. The desk was big enough to hold both your laptops but small enough that you still invaded each other's space, his trick of turning his chair to face you doing nothing now that his knees brushed against the side of your thigh.
He was reaching a hand out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and you didn’t stop him, didn’t yell at him to fuck off. You just sat there, breathless, mind trying to process what was happening as he frowned at your lip tucked between your teeth.
"That’s not what it says." You whisper and he leans in closer, the corner of his mouth tugging in a small smile, eyes soft behind his glasses.
Gojo had been a thorn in your side since freshman year. He was everything you hated: arrogant, a fratboy, rich nepo baby, and a massive fuckboy that played with girls' hearts like they were toys meant for his entertainment.
But he was also infuriatingly smart when he bothered to try, and right now, he was watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle and your pussy grow wet.
“Sure, whatever my princess says.” His voice is sultry and low as he reaches a hand out again to rubs his thumb on your lower lip, pulling it out before letting go.
You swallow hard, butterflies fluttering in your belly. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re tense.” He lets his hand travel to your shoulder, slow enough so that you could pull away, and when you don’t, he continues tracing your exposed collarbone, toying with the v-neck of your top.
“You’ve hated me for three years. That takes a lot of passion, ever wonder why you care so much?”
You opened your mouth to yell at him, to defend yourself against what he was implying because you had plenty of reasons to hate him but couldn’t think of any at this moment. Your brain was short circuiting and it was humiliating.
“I don’t care.” You manage to spit out.
Gojo’s eyes darkened, his grin fading. “Liar.”
His other hand slid up your thigh, creeping under your skirt and still, you didn't move away. Instead you decided to embarrass yourself even further and spread your legs to give him easier access.
“The chapter says physical attraction can override rational judgment. Maybe that’s what’s happening here. You claim I'm an asshole but you’re still sitting in my room, letting me touch you.”
“I’m-, oh!” You cry when he hovers over your clothed cunt, barely touching it and you’re bucking against him for more. So pathetic, so stupid. “I’m merely analyzing the s-subject matter.”
“Yeah, princess? Let’s put that theory to the test. I’ll keep touching you..” He turns your chair toward him, ignoring the way you gasp and glare at him for the loss of contact. He pulls it closer, the legs scrapping against the floorboard.
“And we’ll see if your rational judgment kicks in.”
He taps your thigh and you lift your hips as he pulls your panties down and tosses them over his shoulder. He’s spreading your legs again, further this time and he doesn’t waste a moment. His fingers are rubbing against your slit and you toss your head onto the back of the chair, hips shaking as you whine into his hand.
Gojo moved to kneel in front of you, his middle finger slipping between your folds and nudging at your entrance. When you looked down at him, entire body on fire, he was staring up at you as if looking for your approval.
Obviously grinding against him like a desperate whore wasn’t enough. No, Gojo wanted to hear you, to humiliate you and mock you for all the shit you had given him just to let him finger you when you should have been working on your project.
“Use your words or I'll stop.” He goes to pull his fingers away and your heart lurches.
The last thing you wanted was to beg him of all people but you were too far gone to not get something out of this. So you swallow your pride and nod.
“Keep going, you fucking jerk.”
He chuckles and grabs your thighs, placing them both over his shoulders. “I’m about to eat your pussy and you still can’t be nice to me.”
You don’t respond and he’s pushing his middle and index fingers through your neglected hole, not giving you any time to adjust before leaning down and taking your clit in his mouth.
“Satoru!” You cry out his name and the sound of coming from your lips has him groaning against you and closing his eyes to savor it.
You reach a hang out to grab his hair, looking down and clenching around his fingers because the way he has his head under your skirt is so fucking hot you think you might cum on the spot. He was so hungry for you that he didn’t even properly undress you, greedy man that he was.
His fingers curl inside of you, pumping a little faster as he licks up and down your slit, stopping to suck on your clit each time he passes it. When you try to close your legs, he grabs your thigh with his free hand and pulls it further open.
“Mmff, shtay righ' there.” He mumbles against your pussy, wrapping his lips back around your clit and sucking hard, using his teeth to lightly nibble and you’re leaking so much you can feel it dripping down your thighs.
This wasn’t the kind of research you had been expecting to do but you would accept it just this once, for the sake of your grade of course. This is also the longest he’s ever been quiet in your presence and if you had known that he was such a good pussy eater you would have put his mouth to use long ago.
‘Haaah, go deeper, I- oh god, nggghh I need more!” You grind against his face harder, gripping his hair and pulling him closer.
He just moans encouragingly, burying his fingers knuckles deep and fucking you dumb with them. Your squishy walls contracted around his fingers and with the next curl of them, you were wrapping your legs around his head and cumming so hard that your vision turned white, orgasm stealing your sight while you buck wildly against his face.
You were making a huge mess but Gojo didn’t seem to mind, licking you through it and only slowing his fingers when your legs dropped. He placed a kiss on your pussy before pulling from under your skirt and sucking on his fingers, looking right up at you.
His glasses were crooked, face glistening with your release and his cheeks were flushed red. Your chest heaved up and down dramatically as you fought to breathe properly again.
You couldn't remember the last time you came that hard and irritated you, made you crave more but you could never let him touch you again. This was a mistake, a serious lapse of judgement and yet you still needed more, your pussy already coming back to life.
You quickly stand and pull your skirt down, legs weak as you move around Gojo to find your panties, mortified at your own feelings right now. You just let a frat president go down on you and now you were thinking of how he would fuck you?
Clearly you weren’t in the right state of mind.
“You’re not tired of running away from me yet?” Gojo snaps, all sense of playfulness gone.
He was annoyed, you could hear it in his voice. Not that you cared but he was your ride here so you might as well appease him a little, right?
“I’m not running!” You yell, fingers digging into your palms. You were so beyond angry with yourself, disappointed that you got this far without falling into his den and now here you were. “I got what I wanted, the theory was correct but I think this study session has lasted longer than it should have.”
He looks at you in disbelief, taking his glasses off with a sigh and setting them on the desk before walking over to you, running his hand through his messy hair.
You were frozen. Every rational part of your brain screamed at you to shove him away and walk out. But your body was humming, and the way he looked at you made you want more.
He hovered over you, grabbing your chin and titling your head back so he can look you in the eyes, his other hand on your hip and playing with the waistband of your skirt.
“I can tell you haven’t been touched properly in a long time. Why do you insist on pretending like you don’t feel this pull between us, even if we hate each other?”
“You hate me?” Your lip twitches. While you can confidently say you despised him, he never gave the impression that he felt the same unless he had some sick way of showing it.
Gojo frowns and you hate how beautiful he looks. “No, never. I do want to fuck you though, so maybe we can help each other out.”
He pulls your skirt down just a little, fingers rubbing at the skin on your hip and sending a shiver through your body.
“Kind of like.. an arrangement. You can keep on hating me in public but in this room, I get to fuck you for as long as I want. Call it research for our project. Deal?”
You take a minute to think about it.
You were still seething at yourself for letting him touch. This meant nothing, you still hated him but even you had needs that needed to be met and if Gojo made you cum that hard from his fingers and tongue, you had to know what his cock could do.
“Fine, but I should warn you that I have a really high libido that most men can’t keep up with. If it’s too much I’ll just find-”
He cuts you off with a laugh, grabbing your hips and pulling you close enough that you feel his rock hard cock twitching against your stomach. He grabs the back on your neck and squeezes until you’re looking up at him again.
“You just haven’t been with a real man yet, princess. But don’t worry, I'll take real good care of you. Now take off your fucking clothes.”
You bite your tongue, resisting the urge to ask who he was talking to and at the same time, kicking yourself because you kind of liked it.
“Safe word?” He asked, unbuttoning his pants and stepping out them, his bulge huge against his white boxers, a small wet spot sitting on the front of them.
You roll your eyes and lift your shirt off, then your skirt. “We’re not children. Our safe words are stop and no.”
He nods and pulls his cardigan off and then the shirt underneath. Holy fucking sleeper build. Gojo was ripped but you’d never be able to tell under the clothes he wears. You’re taken aback by just how attractive he was, remembering the day you first saw him and how he was ten times hotter now.
Still a fratboy, still a prick but even you couldn't deny that he was one of the most stunning humans out there. Kind of otherworldly if you thought about it long enough.
“How about kissing? You cool with that, orrr?” He asks while pulling his boxers down and stepping out of them, his cock hitting his stomach and it was definitely the biggest one you’d ever seen. Thick and pulsing, pre leaking from the mushroom tip.
“Off limits. We’re strictly enemies with benefits, nothing more.”
There was no need to make this more difficult than it already was. You were beating yourself up for even being attracted to him, then to add kissing on top of that? You needed to save a shred of your dignity so you would be keeping your kisses.
“Fine, and we always use condoms. Not trying to be a dad in college like Toji. And no whining.”
You nod in agreement even though you were on birth control, snapping your bra off and tossing it, letting Gojo admire you and relishing in the way he looks like a lovestruck fool, hearts basically bursting in his eyes.
You don’t give him long, moving to climb on his bed and lay on your back. Your body was tight with need and you hadn’t even realized what you were doing, spreading your legs and playing with your pussy.
Gojo stands by the side of the bed and watches you as he reaches into the nightstand for a condom, using his teeth to rip it open and stroking it on.
You feel the bed dip first, his body climbing between yours, using his legs to nudge yours further open and then the heat of his cock pressing against your thigh.
“Fuck, you look so perfect.”
You open your eyes and if you didn’t hate him you’d say the same thing. His white hair messy on his head, the longer pieces falling into his bright blue eyes. His body was perfect, his shoulders not too broad but muscular, his waist thinner.
“Whatever, just fuck me.” You huff and in a blink he’s smacking his cock on your pussy then lining himself up with your entrance.
His heat engulfs you when he lays over your body, tapping your thigh so you wrap your leg around his waist.
He places his forehead on yours and smiles as sweetly as possible, one hand digging into the bed above your head to hold him up, the other placed on your hip.
“Ready?” He nudges your nose, gripping the sheets to stop himself from kissing you.
You bit your lip and nod, before stopping and pushing at his chest when he starts to nudge the tip in. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll ruin your life.”
He rolls his eyes, swallowing the words ‘you already have’. “Sure, now can I fuck you?”
When he pushes the first few inches in, you gasp from the sting and before you can stop him he’s leaning down and pressing his soft lips against yours to quiet you.
He squeezes your hip and with one more brutal thrust, he was inside you, filling you to the hilt in one go. You cried into his mouth and he swallowed it, your back arching off the bed as he bottomed out, his balls pressing against your ass. He was almost too big, stretching you in ways that should’ve been painful but wasn’t.
He was the perfect fit, just what you had been looking for, the tip of his cock pressing deliciously against your cervix.
“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned, pulling back to look at you before slamming into you again. And again, his hips pistoned against yours, each snap of his pelvis driving him deeper and grinding onto your clit, your toes curling from the intense pleasure.
“Satoru! Huuuh, yes, fuck me just like that!” You tighten your legs around his waist, moving your hips up to meet his.
You clawed at his back, your nails leaving red marks as he fucked you like he hated you. Like he wanted to ruin you and punish you for making him wait years to do this. And god, did you love it.
“Harder,” you gasped.
He laughed darkly, gripping your throat just enough to make your vision swim. “You want it rough, baby? S-shit! You want me to fuck you like the enemy that you are?”
“Yes Satoru! P-please.”
In a flash he was flipping you over, placing you on your hands and knees and slamming back into you before you could catch your breath. Your ass was in the air and he pushed your head down until it was flat on the mattress, his hands tight on your waist as he pounded into you, his hips snapping against yours with a bruising force.
Thank god he had his own place because each thrust had the bed rocking and sent a jolt of hot pleasure through you, your pussy clench around him and making obscene wet squelching noises that only fueled his hunger for you.
Gojo picked up his pace, veiny cock rubbing against your walls and he wished he could feel your raw pussy, wanted to stuff you full of his cum but he knew better so he ignored his instinct and focused on fucking you.
The cries you let slip out are music to his ears, a song he wanted to hear every fucking day but he would settle for tonight, for now. He leans forward and fucks into you harder, hand squeezing your boob and twisting your nipples, pinching and pulling until you’re whimpering, tears pooling down your face.
“Didn’t I say no whining? Be a good girl, princess.”
You don’t hear what he’s saying, too drunk on his cock as he fucks you stupid, drool spilling from your mouth and onto the sheet. The sight has Gojo groaning, his balls tightening as he splits you open on his cock and fucks you stupid.
“Shit, look at you. All fucked out. Fucking take it baby. Take my cock like a good cum slut.”
His words have you shaking violently with your second orgasm, eyes rolled back as he fucked you through it, squirting heavy on his cock and making a beautiful mess.
“Never letting anyone fuck you again.” He pushes you further onto the bed, your stomach flat against the mattress as he grinds deep into you, completely dominating you, his hands gripping the sheets above you. “This is mine, say it’s my pussy, baby. Tell me you belong to me-fuck-haaah.”
You don’t answer but the way you’re crying for more is enough to satisfy Gojo and he’s filling the condom with white hot cum, gasping as wave after wave of pleasure rocks him, his hips twitching as he empties himself into the latex.
He gives sloppy, lazy thrusts as he rides it out, pushing deep into you one last time before pulling out and falling onto his back next to you. While you come back down to earth, he’s ripping the condom off, tying it and tossing it into the trash before reaching for another one.
Before you know it, he’s rolling it and pulling you onto his lap, lining himself up and pulling you down onto his cock while pushing up into you, fingers digging into your hips.
“Ready for round two?” He smirks when you start to move despite still trying to remember how to breathe properly.
He doesn’t stop after that, keeps fucking you until you’re on the verge of passing out, body weak and shaking but still wanting more.
“What number are we at now, four? Come on, princess. Gimme another one, I know you can do it. Gotta get to five, it’s my favorite number.”
Holy shit.. Gojo was everything you had been looking for in a sexual partner. You had been fucking for two hours now and yet he still has the energy of a man running on spite and arrogance.
It was almost comical. You were a fucking goddess, you could get anyone you wanted, any man would be lucky to have you. Yet the only one who seemed to know how to satisfy you was the one guy you couldn’t stand.
Not that any of that mattered when he had you riding his cock, again, your pussy swollen from how hard he’d been fucking you without tiring. Your clit was overstimulated but he kept rubbing it anyway, your back arching as you felt the pressure building in your belly again.
“C-can’t Toru’” You slurred, drooling dripping down your chin, your face completely wet with tears, makeup long ruined.
“I believe in you, baby.” He smacks your ass hard and then does it again just to watch the way you jump. “Look at you, taking me so well. S’proud of you babe.”
You ignore the pet name, ass on fire and too close to cumming for the fifth time to argue with him over it.His hands grip your hips, pulling you up and down on his cock. You twirled your hips, spelling your name out as you fucked him back, body aching from the intense fuck session.
It wasn’t long before you were grinding harder against Gojo’s pelvis and squirting on him again, fingers pressing into his shoulders as he fell over the edge with you. Pushing himself up and throwing his head back with a roar, legs stretching out as he pumped a thick load of cum into condom.
You move up and down as much as you can, helping him finish his orgasm before collapsing against his chest. Gojo wraps his long arms around you, cock still seated inside you as you both fight to breathe, sweaty bodies sticking together, eyes droopy with exhaustion.
What a fucking night.
You would one hundred percent be fucking him again, even if it was just until you found someone you could tolerate outside of the bedroom. As for now, Gojo was the only one that could tame the fire inside of you and fuck did you hate to admit that.
You can feel his heart beating against your own, his hand rubbing up and down spine, lips kissing the side of your head. As reality comes back to you, you freeze before pushing yourself off him and laying next to him on the bed.
You ignore the hurt look on his face.
“Wanna shower with me?” Gojo asks, sitting up and pushing his hair from his forehead, looking at you over his shoulder with cloudy eyes.
“Seperate.” You don’t even look at him. Way to flip the script on him, he was usually the one ignoring girls after getting what he wanted.
He nods and goes through his drawer before finding a pair of sweatpants to put on, the obvious bulge of his still hard cock making your pulse jump.
He goes into the bathroom connected to his room and you hear the shower turn on before he comes back out and tosses you a towel. You can tell he’s upset but you ignore it. He wasn’t your man, it wasn't your problem.
After you wash your body and your hair, you find that he’s left you a pair of shorts and a shirt on the bed. When he comes back in the room and sees you dressed in his clothes, the size of it swallowing you, his heart damn near stops and you see the way he swallows the lump in his throat.
He clears his throat and smiles at you, slowly walking toward you and your body goes cold when he places his hand on your cheek and leans down to kiss your forehead.
That was the second time he broke your rule and the second time you didn’t correct him.
“Stay. I’ll bring you home in the morning, I can take the couch.”
You nod your head ok, lost for words and he simply nods and moves past you to take his shower.
Later that night you toss and turn before giving up and laying on your back, staring at the ceiling in the nearly dark room, drumming your fingers on your stomach. You sometimes had nights where you just couldn’t sleep no matter what you did and it seems tonight was one of those nights.
You’re still sore between your legs, a reminder that you went back on your word and let Gojo fuck you. You didn’t regret, even had plans on doing it again but that didn’t mean you weren’t angry with yourself. More so because you smelled just like him after using his soap.
He just knew all the right places to touch you, all the best ways to make you cum harder than you did the time before, his cock fitting so perfectly inside of you. It was a shame he had the personality of a walnut.
When you finally turn on your side to go to sleep, eyes burning from exhaustion, you feel the bed dip behind you and strong arms wrap around you.
You try to squirm out of Gojo’s grip but he tightens his arms around you, pulling you until your ass is flush against his hard cock, his chin tucked atop your head.
“Gojo.. we need to sleep, we have class tomorrow.”
“So I’m only Satoru when I fuck you? Wicked girl.” He leans down to kiss your neck and you let him, again, feeling your clit grow erect and that ache return.
“That’s your name isn’t it?” You huff out, moving your hips back against him.
He ignores you, hand going to your hip you pull you close as he grinds into you, slipping yours and his pants down. He quickly puts on a condom before pushing into you, bottoming out in one thrust, hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet.
“Gonna fuck you until you only know Satoru.. You know, my favorite number is actually six.”
You may have bitten off more than you could chew.
❦ lisa's note: sorry about the pledge scene 🥲 I wanted to show how frats are and needed you to truly hate them. promise I'll make up for it!
hii darling can i get a B - begging for valkos thirsty weekend 👀 tyyy🩷🩷
Ohhh good lawd, I'd beg shamelssly for him to things to me.
--------
"Deep enough?" Valko growls sensually into your ear as his hips rock against your rounded ass. You whine, fingers curling into the bedsheets as he bottoms out, your cunt wet and dripping as he thrusts.
"Val...please..." you whimper, your breath coming in fractured bursts as he angles himself to that the spongy tip of his cock brushes just right against your g spot. Your walls clamp around him in hot need, but he merely continues his lazy movements, tugging your hair to ensure your back stays arched.
"Please what? Use your words, mouse."
"Please...wanna...mhm need your...oh." You lose track of your words as his fingers find your clit, circling it as his cock continues to rub into that sensitive patch along your inner walls.
Valko chuckles. "Poor little mouse. Wanna be knotted so bad huh?"
"Yeah..." You admit breathily, growing needier by the second as he teases your clit into a frenzy.
"You beg so sweetly. Now why don't you try again, and maybe I'll oblige?" He licks your ear and you nearly break from the growing heat and tension coiling inside your body.
"Please...knot me...need to feel you in me..."
"More."
"Wanna...be so full...stretched on your cock..."
"Better."
"Want you to...fill me and knock me up with your pups..."
A feral growl escapes his lips, his movements growing frenzied as he pounds into you.
"That's my girl," he whispers, the slap of skin on skin echoing the room. "Begging so nicely for my knot and my pups..." He groans as your walls tighten around him.
"Gonna milk me dry here, mouse." A snarl emanates from his chest as Valko climaxes, and you gasp as he swells, his cock stretching you to capacity as warm jets of his seed spill into your slick channel.
TW: self deprecating language, implications of past trauma, blood warning (zayne) due to accidental injury.
Not beta'd~
--
*Valko*
“I’m so stupid!”
Valko’s ears perked at the words, unsure if he was more thrown because of the words themself or the harsh manner in which they were said.
His gaze shifted to where you were borderline pacing, lifting items to try and find something. You were definitely seconds away from tearing your own hair out from frustration. Instead, you just stopped, hands clenched into fists and eyes squeezed shut as you shut down entirely.
"Should have known better to put them down knowing I needed them," you scolded yourself voice shaking.
If not for his sense of smell, he might have missed the smell of salt in the air.
And so he stood and moved towards you, his tail nearly dragging behind him. His ears pressed to his hair, nearly camouflaged.
“Sweets?”
You held up a trembling hand.
“Not now, Val–”
The hug he wrapped you in from behind was sudden but necessary, your heated cheeks and racing heart easing up as you were forced to just breathe. Valko’s breaths were deep and tempoed and you had half a thought to call him out on his actions if not for the fact that they were working.
In and out.
In and out.
In, hold it, and out.
Until you were dragged into his rhythm, racing thoughts slowing with every exhale. His arms crossed over your chest, weighted yet gentle.
Your hand dropped to your side, mind attempting to catch up to the fact that he was holding you and you were allowed to fall back into him if needed.
“Don’t talk about my mate like that,” he murmured into your hair, tightening his grip for a second before loosening it. “She’s strong. Smart. Certainly not stupid or any other vitriolic word your mind conjures up from Astra knows where.”
The words force you back to reality harder than expected.
The energy drained as your adrenaline from fight or flight practically faded and sent you into a free fall.
“I didn’t…” you started, unsure why you had said the words yourself. “I…” you tried again, the lump in your throat effectively sealing any other attempt at explanation inside of you. The words played on loop instead, a stuttered exhale all you can manage before turning to face Valko and burying your face into his neck.
“I gotcha,” Valko assured confidently, rubbing a hand along your back while the other rested on your neck.
Firm but not possessive.
Just grounding.
Enough to send you into premature sleep, to which he moved you both to the bedroom and made sure not an inch of light or sound would disturb your much needed rest.
And when you woke up to him with his head on your chest in the early hours of the morning? You managed a smile, yesterday’s emotions nothing but a gentle ache soothed by the rush of affection the sleeping man managed to pull out of you.
--
*Caleb*
The crashing of the plate against the ground had been the last straw for you.
“I’m so stupid,” you hissed as you cradled your burnt hand, tears welling in your eyes before you could process why they were there in the first place. You leaned down to grab the pieces and hide the evidence of your idiocy, but Caleb had heard the commotion and been up and on his way toward you the moment he heard the crash. He made his presence known by lifting you up via his evol with practiced ease, his voice teasing.
“I know I didn’t just hear my girlfriend call herself stupid,” he said with a cross of his arms. “Might have to have a talk with her to stop bullying my precious pipsqueak.”
When you met his gaze, there was no humor in his eyes. The disconnect of his tone when gazing narrowed eyes is enough to have you falling into pure silence.
Then came the trembling of your shoulders.
And under his knowing look, each part of your resolve shattered. Every ounce of effort put toward maintaining some level of composure lifted into the air like smoke.
Your hand was hurting.
You were embarrassed.
You felt guilty that the dinner you’d been so excited to share with him was now ruined.
Should have used two plates.
Why did you put all of it onto one?
Stupid, stupid, stupi—
“Pips?”
His voice was softer than usual. You hung your head, attempting to shield yourself from him only to feel your body tugged in his direction. You came face to face with him again, but his expression had shifted entirely.
“I–” you tried, but it came out weak and choked.
A humorless chuckle that sounded more like a sigh left him as you dropped suddenly. You didn’t close your eyes or react, knowing very well the floor was not an option.
Not when strong arms were out and ready for you as always. Sometimes you wondered where you would be without him…how your life would have gone if he’d never returned.
Before you could spiral down another path, Caleb’s voice coaxed you back to him.
“I know very well that you were never scolded for makin’ a mess by me or gran,” he said quietly. He had always managed to find the perfect balance between comfort and curiosity with you. “So…where’d that come from? Who made my pips think she was anything other than amazing?”
Your mind wondered the same, too scrambled to come up with an answer. The voice certainly hadn’t been entirely your own, but the knowledge was beyond your reach as you came down piece by piece.
A hum of understanding left him despite your lack of response as he carried you out of the kitchen and used his evol to rid of the mess.
Evidence gone...like it never existed.
Because whether a broken plate or a threat to your carefully curated stability, it was all the same to him.
Disposable.
Undeserving of the place in your thoughts it attempted to take.
“I’m here,” he promised, your heavy eyes threatening to close in his embrace.
“‘M sorry,” you murmured, but the man simply pressed a kiss to your temple, promising to be at your side when you woke.
--
*Zayne*
You let out a sharp breath as you squeezed your hand shut.
It did nothing to help the sting of your palm, bloody knife on the ground and half cut cake on the counter. You felt the tears form before you could stop them, slipping down your cheeks.
“I’m so stupid,” you whispered softly. You backed up until you hit the counter beside the sink, sliding down it and ignoring the dull ache of the handle hitting your back. You knew you should treat the wound. It was an easier fix than any wound you’d gotten out on the field, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to actually do it. You felt frozen, somehow, feeling the blood slip down your wrist toward your elbow, even more so when you opened your hand to give it a break from the strain.
“I’m sorry?”
You flinched at the voice, snapping your head up to see Zayne frowning from the kitchen doorway. You parted your lips to speak, but before you could he was walking toward you with his eyes locked on your poorly hidden hands.
“You…” he started, eyes flickering in surprise when he looked over to see the knife on the floor and the red dots leading to where you sat. “You are hurt?”
“no,” you said automatically, shaking your head as you attempted to think of anything to get out of the situation. It was awful enough you ruined his surprise treat, he didn’t need to know you were one of the klutziest Hunters alive.
“You are,” he said with a finality that had you wanting the floor to swallow you whole. Rather than wait, Zayne leaned down slowly, reaching out to you even slower. Like you were some wounded animal ready to bolt.
“Love–”
“I don’t like to see you hurt,” he offered, barely above a whisper. His eyes lifted to your own for a brief moment before shifting back down to your wound. “Physically or otherwise.”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, slowly easing the pressure on your hand and holding it out with a wince. It looked much worse than before, new and dried blood staining it almost entirely red.
Zayne didn’t panic. If anything, the sight made his gaze soften further.
“You’ll need some stitches,” he said, maintaining the same quiet tone as he observed. “May I?”
“It’ll hurt.”
He smiled slightly and you can’t help but weaken even more. “More than this does?”
He made a valid point.
It was why you were in the bathroom with him minutes later, avoiding your hand like the plague while he worked. He had offered to take you to the hospital to numb the area first, but the idea felt more mortifying. You didn’t need to broadcast your incompetence to his place of employment.
“...’m sorry.”
A huff from the doctor you managed to become engaged to.
“You have no reason to apologize.”
“But I ruined the—”
“You matter the most,” he said without hesitation. “No dessert in the world matters more than my wife.”
Your heart fluttered as the knot in your chest loosened.
“You called me your wife,” you said, tone airy.
He raised a brow, wrapping your hand securely before lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to the padding.
“Fiance is not a strong enough word, anymore. Don't you agree?”
deaf!bakugou who is a sadist and who happens to loooove eating pussy but adored softly biting and sucking your clit until it doubles in size— but when you get ‘too loud’ he just turns the hearing aid off and tilts his head when he sees your tear stricken face.
“you dick, i was telling you i was coming!”
“im glad you came.” he devilishly grins. “feel good?”
“yes but-“ you grumble, slightly groaning when his breath leaves your bundle of nerves. “you said youd eat my pussy, not abuse it.”
“never said i had to hear you.” he shrugs, licking his lips as he smirks.
true form!sukuna comforts you when you cry about your weight ♡
angst/ fluff - part of my true form!sukuna x his favourite chubby concubine series. more here
you’re curled up in bed, face buried in your pillow in attempt to silence your pitiful sobs.
you felt stupid. pathetic. you’d heard a couple of the other concubines talking in the hallway five minutes prior, saying how they ‘don’t understand why sukuna favours you’ — then following that up with a series of distasteful comments about your weight.
you wish it hadn’t bothered you, but was there a chance they could be right? why does sukuna favour you? you’re not thin, or particularly special — what did he see in you?
before you can dwell any further, heavy footsteps close in, the doors of your chamber swinging open with force.
sukuna knew exactly how to make an entrance.
you keep your face buried in your pillow, trying to silence yourself to avoid embarrassment.
"woman. what are you doing," sukuna asks, crossing two of his meaty arms over his chest, narrowing his primary set of eyes in confusion.
"…it’s nothing," you sniffle, "i just need to be alone."
sukuna scoffs at your request, closing the distance between you almost instantly, now hovering over you. “look at me."
you knew sukuna wasn’t asking — he was telling. yet you just couldn’t allow him to see you like this, vunerable and ‘weak.’
"…no," you mumble, voice quiet and feeble.
without wasting another second, he reaches between you and the pillow, gripping your chin and turning your face to the side. his grip softens almost immediately after seeing your sad, red eyes, stray tears still trickling down your blotchy face.
more tears begin to fall as sukuna looks down on you, your mind beginning to race worrying what he’d think of you for emitting such ‘pathetic human emotions.’
yet he doesn’t ridicule you, just stares almost uncomfortably — like he doesn’t know quite what to do.
you begin to sob more.
"tsk…" he hisses quietly, gathering you in his big arms, sitting down on your bed and cradling you as gently as he knows how.
you cry against his broad chest, held by all four of his arms. "m’sorry," you cry, wetting his robes with your tears.
"i do not want an apology. i want to know who has reduced you to tears," he says, knowing all too well that you wouldn’t cry over nothing.
as much as you resented the harsh words from the other concubines, you didn’t wish death on them. you knew their fate wouldn’t be pretty if sukuna knew.
“…am i not good enough for you?" you weep, "or too heavy?"
sukuna flashes you the most confused, stunned look. "what are you talking about, woman," he says, one hand beginning to subconsciously rub your back.
"if either were true, i would not allow you to be blubbering on me like an infant," sukuna adds.
"so you don’t think i’m too heavy?…" you sniffle, looking up at him with bloodshot, glassy eyes.
sukuna almost laughs.
"are you suggesting i’m weak?" he questions, standing up with ease, securing you with only one arm just to prove a point. sukuna didn’t believe in a woman being ‘heavy’, in fact, he deemed any man who can’t handle a bigger woman weak and pathetic.
message received.
"your body is…" he pauses, forcing hos words out, still learning how to compliment you. "…perfection," he continues.
you stop crying, a faint smile appearing on your face — similar to a rainbow after a harsh storm.
"thank you, kuna" you smile, leaning your head against his chest once more, exhausted from crying your heart out.
he doesn’t respond, just holds you against him, wondering how you could think so low of yourself. you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on, after all.
a/n; ended up finishing this at 4am cus i couldn’t sleep LMAO
summary: The morning after and its' bitter consequences
wc: 2.4k
series masterlist
Zayne had too much wine.
You know that, because Zayne is kissing you as the two of you fumble into the hotel room, the door clicking shut behind you in a way that makes your heart stutter. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, tasting faintly of the sweet red he'd downed with such abandon at dinner. He's never kissed you before, but he's remarkably good at it. His mouth moves with a confidence that makes your knees weak, his hand cradling your jaw.
The room is dark, lit only by the sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, but you don't need light to feel him. His body is pressed against yours, firm and solid, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart through his shirt. Or maybe that's yours.
"Z-Zayne." You gasp between open-mouthed kisses, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his collar. He sighs against your lips, and his fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress. He fiddles with it, his movements slightly clumsy, whether from the wine or from nerves, you can't tell.
"Tell…tell me if you want to stop, and I will." His voice is rougher than usual, husky with want, and his face is flushed, clearly more affected by the alcohol than you'd expected. His eyes search yours, and you can see the effort it takes him to form the words. Perhaps if you were stone cold sober, this would be a bad idea, a terrible idea, a friendship-ruining, life-complicating catastrophe. But you're tipsy too, warm and floaty and so desperately in love with him that it hurts, so you're shaking your head instead.
“Please don’t stop.”
The words leave your lips before you can second-guess them, and the way his eyes darken at your response sends a thrill down your spine. He presses his lips to yours once again, pulling you in by the back of your neck. You can't help but sigh into the kiss, your head spinning, the world narrowing to just the feel of him against you. You almost couldn't believe this was happening. Zayne, your Zayne, the man you'd pined over for so long, kissing you.
Even as your back hits the mattress, and Zayne is carefully, so carefully, like you might break, pulling away your clothes, you can hardly believe it. Your dress pools around your waist, then vanishes entirely. His hands are gentle as they trace the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist. Were the two of you really going to do this? Cross this line, never to return to your normal friendship? Would you wake up tomorrow and regret this, or would you treasure it forever, even if it meant losing him?
Fuck it.
"Let me do it?" You murmur as he reaches for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers brushing his away. He lets you, his eyes half-lidded as they watch you slowly undo each button, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. You let the pads of your fingers trail over his heated skin as you push the fabric off his body, mapping the lines of his chest, the hollow of his collarbone, the subtle tremble of his muscles beneath your touch. The way he shivers at your fingertips makes you bold, and you let your hands move lower, tracing the waistband of his pants.
“Let me take care of you first.” He murmurs, his hand catching your wrist and sealing it with a kiss as your bodies sink onto the mattress. You're clad in only your underwear now, and Zayne hooks his fingers beneath the lace, pulling it off slowly. He watches your reaction as he does so, his gaze never leaving your face, searching for discomfort, for hesitation, for any sign that you want to stop. You do your best to push down your nerves, suddenly very aware that you are fully naked in front of Zayne, exposed in every possible way. But he doesn't give you much time to sit with the fear, moving to kiss you once more, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat.
His eyes, when they meet yours, are so full of adoration, tender and vulnerable in a way you've never seen from him, that it lets you toss all inhibitions aside. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, and surrender yourself to the moment completely.
You didn’t want to regret a moment of this night.
When you wake up, the first thing you realize is that you're incredibly disoriented. Your mouth feels like cotton, your tongue thick and uncooperative, and your head is spinning in nauseating circles. For a long, groggy moment, you can't piece together where you are, before it all comes rushing back.
The second thing you notice is that you’re naked.
Your jaw drops, a sound escaping your throat as you hurriedly clutch the blanket to your chest, as if that would make your nakedness any better. The fabric is cool against your heated skin, and you're acutely aware of every inch of exposed flesh, every memory that's slowly trickling back in fragments.
You risk a glance next to you, already knowing what you'll see, but needing to see it anyway.
Zayne is still fast asleep, his dark hair a disaster against the pillow, completely shirtless. The sheets are pooled around his waist, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest and the sharp line of his shoulders. You'd be admiring how peaceful he looks when he sleeps, how the tension melts from his face and his lips part slightly with each slow exhale, if you weren't so distracted by the hickies littering his chest and neck. A vivid purple bruise blooms just below his collarbone. Another traces the curve of his shoulder. There's a faint scratch mark down his chest that makes your face burn.
Well, you definitely remember being excited.
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to piece together the night before. The wine. The way Zayne's cheeks had flushed after finishing his glass. The way he'd leaned in close at dinner, his voice dropping to that low register that made your stomach flip. The walk back to the room. How he'd pinned you against the door the moment it clicked shut.
Oh god.
After checking three times to make sure he's fully asleep, you slip out of bed as quietly as humanly possible. Your legs are shaky, and you nearly trip over his shirt on the floor, but you manage to reach the bathroom and shut the door behind you, breathing out in relief the moment the lock clicks.
Okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
You lean against the cool marble counter, pressing your palms flat against the surface and staring at your reflection. Your hair is a wild mess. Your lips are slightly swollen. There's a mark on your neck that you quickly look away from. You look like you've had the night of your life, which, if you're being honest with yourself, you absolutely did.
The night before is completely clear in your mind now, every detail flooding back in vivid color. You remember every kiss, every touch, every whispered word. You were a little tipsy, you both were, but you weren't drunk. At least, not enough to blame it on alcohol. You remember the way his hands had trembled slightly as they traced your sides, the way he'd looked at you, the way he’d said your name. You remember all of it. And you didn’t regret a moment.
Hopefully, Zayne didn’t either.
God, what the hell does this mean?
You have to resist the urge to pull your hair out, your fingers twitching at your sides. This was insane. How are you supposed to move past this? Spend the rest of the trip together? Share a bed tonight like nothing happened? Go back to your carefully constructed friendship like you hadn't seen him completely undone beneath you?
No, you know what, it's fine. You've handled worse. Maybe it would be best to just pretend this never happened. Maybe, now that you've gotten this out of your system, you can finally give up on Zayne, finally extinguish that stubborn flame of hope, and move on with your life. One night of passion. A final goodbye before you let him go completely.
You take an incredibly long shower, standing under the hot spray until your fingers prune. The water pounds against your shoulders, and though a part of you mourns washing off the remnants of the night before, the scent of his cologne still clinging to your skin, the ghost of his touch, you scrub yourself clean anyway. You wish your worries would slip away with the water, swirl down the drain and disappear, but that's not how life plays out. No, you'd be lucky to forget about this, to pretend nothing happened.
But could you?
By the time you step out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy hotel robe that smells faintly of lavender, Zayne is awake. He's propped up against the headboard, the sheet still pooled around his waist, his hair adorably rumpled. He looks like he's been waiting.
You meet his eyes and freeze, your tongue suddenly frozen in your mouth. The words you'd rehearsed in the shower evaporate entirely. Not that you'd been prepared to talk to him right now, but still.
"Are you feeling alright?" His voice is raspy, rough with sleep, and it sends flashes of the night before rocketing to the forefront of your mind. The way he'd leaned in and murmured in your ear about if it felt good, if his touch was what you wanted. The way his voice had dropped lower, as his co-
Nevermind.
"Yeah, I'm alright." You force the words out, your voice steadier than you feel. "Are you…okay?" You don't really know why you're asking, but it seems the polite thing to do. The way you'd ask any friend after a shared night.
“I suppose I’ve learned my limit with alcohol. Otherwise, yes.” He hums, sitting up a bit more and pushing his hair back from his forehead. The movement draws your attention to the marks on his chest again, and you have to physically look away.
He doesn't seem very confused, so he must remember everything. There's no dawning horror on his face, no panicked questions. Just calm acceptance. But…he's not asking what it means. Not even a hint of curiosity about where you stand now. So he must already know. Surely, he agrees. It was just a one-time thing. A release of tension. It didn't mean anything.
"Should…should we talk about last night?" The words slip out before you can stop them, fear loosening your tongue. You need to hear him say it. Need to confirm what you've been so terrified of.
"Do we need to?"
There it is.
The words land like a slap. A small part of you, the tiny piece of flickering hope that had dared, dreamed, prayed, goes out instantly. Like a candle snuffed by a careless hand. You didn't need to talk about things that meant nothing. Last night had meant nothing. Just as you'd suspected. Just as you'd prepared yourself for.
"I guess not." You hear yourself say, your voice hollow and distant. "I'm gonna get dressed now. There's a couple of group activities today so we should get going."
Your voice doesn't quite sound like your own, too brittle, but Zayne doesn't say a word. Like you'd expected from someone who, apparently, was just a friend. He simply nods, his expression unreadable, and you turn away before he can see the tears threatening to spill.
The rest of the day is a blur. And every day after it. You smile and pretend at breakfast, laugh at jokes you don't find funny, fill your days with meaningless activities and forced conversation. You go to bed in complete silence, the space between you on the mattress feeling like a canyon. Zayne has been different since that night, quieter and more withdrawn. Gone was the flirty, confident Zayne that had accompanied you on this trip, the one who slipped his hand into yours and remembered how you liked your sandwiches. He'd gotten what he wanted, you assumed. He didn't need to pretend anymore.
You tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did.
You're almost grateful for the last day of the trip, the bitter relief of an ending. While everyone else mourns the vacation, you crave the familiarity of your own home, your own bed, your own life where you don't have to see the man who broke your heart every single day. This had been a horrible mistake. Not only had you ruined a perfectly respectable relationship with your doctor, someone who'd have to examine you and pretend nothing happened, you'd lost a close friend. The person you trusted most in the world.
And probably the love of your life. But it doesn’t seem to count if he doesn’t love you back.
Well, the trip is over. Now you can finally move on. Hopefully.
You don't speak to Zayne the whole train ride back. It's not for his lack of trying; you feel his gaze on you constantly, a heavy weight you can't escape. Sometimes you catch him staring, his mouth opening as if about to say something, but then you look over and he looks away, jaw tightening. Good. You don't want to hear whatever excuse he's crafted. You don't want to hear him try to make it better when nothing will.
"Do you need me to drive you home?" He offers as you step off the train, your bags in hand. His voice is careful, like he knows he's walking on thin ice.
“I’ll take a cab. See you around, Dr. Zayne.” You take your bags from him without meeting his eyes, your grip tight on the handles.
You're gone before he can respond, disappearing into the crowd and refusing to look back. The cab ride home is a blur of traffic and tears, and when you finally collapse into your own bed, you let yourself cry until there's nothing left.
Tomorrow, you'll move on. You'll forget him. You'll be fine.
But tonight, you let yourself mourn what could have been.
content: sharing one bed with sae itoshi because the hotel overbooked.
the mistake isn't even discovered until everyone's dragging their suitcases into the lobby.
you're halfway through checking the reservation list when one of the hotel employees awkwardly clears his throat.
"there's... one issue." everyone freezes. somehow, every room was booked correctly except yours.
you laugh at first because... seriously? until the receptionist confirms that every nearby hotel is completely full.
one of the assistant staff members—someone you've barely spoken to during the trip—steps a little too close.
"well," he says with a grin that makes your skin crawl, "i don't mind sharing my room."
you immediately force a polite smile. "that's okay. i'll figure something out."
"come on, it's only one night." before you can answer again:
"no." the lobby goes quiet.
sae doesn't even look up from his phone. "she's staying in my room."
everyone turns to him. "itoshi?" the coach blinks.
he finally lifts his head, teal eyes landing briefly on the staff member before looking away again.
"well, unless there's another room."
"there isn't." pause. "then it's settled." his tone is so flat that nobody argues.
except the assistant. "are you sure? i mean, i offered first-"
sae finally looks directly at him. it's only for a second.
but whatever expression crosses his face is enough for the man to immediately shut up. "right."
sae picks up his room key. "come on."
the elevator ride is painfully quiet.
"thanks," you mumble. he hums.
after another few seconds, he speaks. "he was making you uncomfortable."
it's not a question. "was it that obvious?"
"to me." that's all he says.
his room is nicer than yours would've been. one king-sized bed.
one couch that looks like it'd break your spine after twenty minutes. you immediately point at it.
"i'll sleep there." "no."
"what?" "it's uncomfortable."
"sae, i'm not kicking you out of your own bed." "good."
"so?" "we're both sleeping here."
you stare at him. he stares back with the exact same unreadable expression.
"it's a king-sized bed." "we're adults." you tch. "you're overthinking it." easy for him to say.
you spend the next twenty minutes pretending not to notice how close he is while both of you get ready for bed.
he acts like absolutely nothing is different. brushes his teeth, answers a message, sets an alarm, and lies down.
"goodnight." just like that. meanwhile you're standing beside the bed wondering how your life turned into this.. but whos complainin "you know this is weird."
without opening his eyes- "only if you make it weird."
you roll your eyes. "you're impossible." you cross your arms "mhm."
you don't expect to wake up in the middle of the night. or because you're cold, or because the hotel air conditioning feels like it's trying to recreate antarctica.
half asleep, you instinctively scoot toward the nearest source of warmth. which just so happens to be sae.
your forehead ends up pressed lightly against his shoulder, your hand 'accidentally' curls into the sleeve of his t-shirt.
he wakes for maybe three seconds. looks down. realizes you're asleep.
instead of moving you away, he simply pulls the blanket a little higher over both of you and goes back to sleep.
the next morning.. you wake up first, then immediately realize where you are.
you slowly lift your head and sae's already awake, looking at you.
"finished panicking?" you immediately let go of his shirt.
"i wasn't panicking." you gulp. "your face says otherwise." pause. "don't."
"you drool a little." you audibly gasped "i WHAT?"
there's the tiniest pause, barely noticeable. then, "i'm kidding."
you blink. "ugh.. you better be." he's already getting out of bed. "mhm-hmm, whatever you say."
your jaw drops, you face him and you catch a hint of the hardest you've ever seen sae itoshi try not to smile.
written by - @ysvanielle (me) | please do not copy, steal, modify, repost or translate my content onto any other platforms or tumblr. reblogs, likes and follows are appreciated !
a/n: here is the highly anticipated pt 2 to my colonel!caleb x medic!reader hc series hehehe. keeping it short for the sake of my sanity + i covered their relationship development in the first part. i was hella stumped with this one and didn’t know where to go from here so im sorry if its not what you expected. i might make it a series next if it does good. and that also means more fluff/smut 👀 . lmk
—> sparkle gif by cursed-carmine!
wc: ~4k? (not proofread) — 🎧 close to you - dayglow
tags: colonel!caleb x medic!reader, highly suggestive/mature content; read at your own discretion, secret lovers trope, yearning caleb yippee, lowk avoidant reader, not dating yet -- relationships are (usually) prohibited in the military, superior x subordinate dynamic, caleb is still a workaholic lol
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
the few private places on the base of the farspace fleet consist of only three areas: the bathrooms, the barracks, and caleb's office, none of which are ever truly private.
so when you kissed colonel caleb xia two weeks ago, you knew this was going to be a terrible mistake.
there was no way on this planet earth you two weren't getting caught sneaking away to fuck like rabbits. but at the end of the day, neither of you really cared. if it worked, it worked. nobody was suspicious. yet.
and even if they were, which you highly doubt, you still wouldn't care. not when you're sitting on your superior's lap, grinding against him like your life depended on it.
caleb's large hands squeeze your hips before snaking their way under the thin fabric of your scrubs. they're pink -- expressive in a world that brought back nothing but death and bad news. expressive just like you.
your skin is soft under his touch, just like he expected. caleb almost swears he's dreaming when you let him lift your shirt off, in which he throws it behind his back in a hasty manner. once gone, his lips fly to your neck in an instant.
"'leb," you pant, running your hands through his dark hair. "careful-- ah-- don't leave any marks."
he simply hums against your skin and sucks a hickey into it anyway, making heat flood in between your thighs.
"that's not my name, baby."
caleb soothes the mark with a teasing swipe of his tongue, admiring how quickly the spot becomes red. the sensation makes you whimper and squirm in his grasp, which makes his grip on your hips tighten. you know what he's referring to, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. but you give in anyway.
"colonel--"
three devastating knocks at the door snap the both of you out of your sexual haze. caleb lets out a frustrated sigh as he glances at the door, reluctant to release you even as you're panicking to slip out of his arms.
"permission to enter, sir?" the gruff voice asks from outside, which the both of you recognize as liam, caleb's lieutenant and second-in-command. he purses his lips, knowing that ignoring him would be the wrong decision. finally, he lets you go.
"hold on, liam," he coughs, leaning back in his seat as he discreetly tries to adjust the tent in his pants. "give me a minute."
while he's distracting the lieutenant, you look at yourself on a small mirror propped up against the wall, noticing the hickey immediately. it's huge, and in a spot that can't easily be covered without makeup. bastard.
leaving you no other choice, you quickly pull your hair down from your messy bun, pulling the strands to rest over your shoulders before combing through them with your fingers to ensure you don't look like a wreck.
the second you turn back to look at caleb, he immediately notices the way your hair is now down. he suppresses a smirk but gives you a nod, signaling that it's okay for you to go now.
but you'd much rather dig a hole, crawl inside it, and die, right here in his office.
with a deep breath, you force yourself to reach for the door's handle, knowing you'll definitely get some sort of weird stare from liam.
pulling the door open, the lieutenant's eyes widen slightly before schooling his expression back into a neutral one, he nods once in acknowledgement before stepping aside to let you pass. but once you're gone, he looks at caleb with a raised eyebrow before stepping inside the office and closing the door behind him.
caleb frowns, annoyed for getting cockblocked and being accused of participating in forbidden behavior (he was).
"meeting," he's quick to say, his defensiveness only growing at his comrade's skeptical expression. "we were having a meeting-- hey, don't make it weird. that's an order."
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
the next time it happens is in an elevator.
yes, an elevator.
the base is always busy, but somehow it’s busier than normal. recruits are rushing to get in formation in time, others are on their way to the cafeteria for lunch break, and you are stuck on a supply run, hauling a huge crate of medical supplies to the elevator.
your arms ache from how heavy it is, but you carry on. you’re not fond of breaks; they only slow you down in the long run. it doesn’t help that these people in the hallways are moving as slow as rocks; you have to purse your lips to keep yourself from telling them off.
once you finally reach the elevator, there’s a small crowd already waiting for the next lift.
great. just my luck, you think to yourself.
you join the crowd and set the supplies down at your feet with a soft groan. your back aches from supporting all the weight, so you rest your hands on your hips to stretch slightly.
but as soon as you get a moment’s reprieve, the elevator doors open. soldiers start to flood out, and you bite your tongue to resist the urge to scream. you lean back down to pick up the crate, but by the time you have it comfortably settled against your stomach, the elevator is already packed.
there was no way you were were walking up the stairs, and you were too impatient to wait for another lift. screw this base for only having one elevator on ground level.
with a resigned sigh, you set the crate down— again— settling for waiting for the next one.
the current lift closes and goes up. you watch in silence, crossing your arms over your chest. but before you can react, you feel a slight force next to you. it’s magnetic and grounding, somewhat heavy, and oddly familiar.
when you look over, the crate beside you is floating.
caleb.
as if on cue, you hear footsteps approach you from behind. the colonel has an easy smile on his face, one he only reserves for you.
“if you needed help, you could have just asked me,” he hums, using his evol to gently place the supplies back on the ground. you shake your head, both flattered and amused.
“it’s fine,” you shake your head. “guess today just isn’t my day.”
caleb raises an eyebrow and mirrors your stance, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“doesn’t seem fine to me,” he retorts. “you were standin’ around like a granny with back problems before i came.”
you roll your eyes.
“okay. maybe it is a bit heavy. but i can carry it just fine.”
“i know you can,” he replies with mock sympathy. “you’re a strong girl. you’ve been carrying that around all day, though. anyone would get tired doing that.”
before you can respond, the elevator arrives back on ground floor, empty. what a miracle.
you begin to lean down to pick it up, but caleb’s evol activates again and lifts the crate off the ground, refusing to let you carry it again.
“ah ah,” he tuts admonishingly. “let me. i can handle it.”
sore and too tired to argue, you let him, sighing softly as you two enter the elevator.
he has a smug smirk as he wins this battle, but says nothing more as you lean against the cold, metal walls of the elevator. caleb reaches over to press a few buttons. he doesn’t have to ask what your floor is; his office and the medical station are on the same floor.
with a soft click, the elevator closes, leaving you two alone in a small, enclosed space. caleb sets the crate down at your feet once more, pretending to be occupied as he counts the tiles on the lift’s ceiling.
the silence is quickly replaced by elevator lobby music, but neither of you are worrying about that. it's as if the two of you are trapped together in a little bubble, creating your own world. and there's nothing to do except get closer.
caleb whistles a soft tune from beside you when he realizes the lift will take a while, rocking on his heels back and forth.
"so..." he trails off. "how's your day?"
stupid question. he knows you've been running around base gathering supplies; he's seen you. to his (un)surprise, you shrug it off as you stretch your arms.
"tiring," you admit. "and a bit boring. i'm not used to working outside of the med-bay."
he hums in acknowledgement before silence falls over the two of you again. ever since liam almost walked in on you two, things have been a bit awkward. caleb can't tell if it was the semi-public indecency or his lieutenant that scared you away, but he doesn't blame you.
that situation had him feeling conflicted too. while you were working and saving lives, he'd spent every day since then brooding in his office while thinking of ways to expand this complication between you two past hooking up.
he knows this is against the rules. he knows he could get in trouble for pursuing a relationship with one of his colleagues. and he knows he should stop — but he can't. you simply feel too good to quit.
ultimately, he decides to address the situation. he's never been good with his guilty conscience, and likes to clear things up as quickly as possible. part of this habit also comes from his swiftness as a colonel, but he realizes that he should go about this moment as caleb, not as the colonel.
he also realizes that while the colonel tells him to stop, caleb tells him to keep going. while the colonel says this is wrong, caleb says to ask her out as a way to apologize for what happened.
the colonel is a part of him, but it's not all of him. so he listens to caleb.
"look. about last week—" he starts, but you quickly shut him down with a shake of your head. you’d already wiped the horrific moment from your memory, and didn’t want it back.
“it’s okay,” you insist, feeling your cheeks get hot. “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to—“
he cuts you off this time with an apologetic (yet slightly sheepish) smile on his face.
“no, i want to! i just feel bad for what happened,” caleb’s hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “it was unfortunate timing, and i want to make it up to you— for real. so, i was wondering—“
ding.
the elevator doors open.
caleb’s fists clench at his sides, but his face remains neutral. why is this always happening to him? why can’t he have a normal conversation with you without the world constantly interrupting him?
meanwhile, you take this as an opportunity to flee the conversation. not because you don’t like caleb— because you do. you really do— but because you know this is wrong, and because the concept of being in a relationship with your superior still freaks you out.
“it’s okay, caleb. really!” you ramble, picking up the crate of supplies before he can lift, or, rather, float it for you. “we can make it up some other time, but i’m really busy— i’ll see you later!”
he purses his lips but flattens them out into a strained smile as he waves you off. not long after, the elevator floods again, and it isn’t until it starts moving again that he realizes that he should have gotten off with you. his office is quite literally on the same floor as the medical bay.
caleb resists the urge to punch something. he had been too lost in his thoughts (and your beauty) to get out at the correct floor.
then, he sighs softly, accepting his fate and preparing to wait another ten minutes before he can return to his workplace. but the whole way back to his office, he’s thinking about ways to bridge the gap between you two.
damn it.
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
caleb can’t tell if you’re doing this on purpose or if the world is genuinely fucking with him.
he doesn’t blame you for being busy— you’re just doing your job, after all. but it’s as if your job is all you’re doing. he can’t even catch you when you’re on break because you’d rather spend that time socializing with friends instead of taking a breath alone.
how is he supposed to approach you in front of your colleagues? and why would the colonel get all shy and bashful around the base’s medic? he’d rather die than embarrass himself like that.
one day, he figures that if you’re unable to come to him, he’ll come to you.
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
it was an accident. mostly.
before joining the farspace fleet, and even the daa, he knew the risks of flying near the deepspace tunnel: radiation exposure, wanderer attacks, protocore fluctuations, even muscle strain and neck/back pain from flying too long. but none of that stopped him.
especially not when the one mission caleb had been trying to complete for months was just within reach.
the objective was supposedly simple: record data based on the increase and decrease of protocore fluctuations at different depths of the tunnel. but the planes at the fleet weren’t suited to handle the immense pressure of the tunnel.
having yet to perfect the durability of the jets, researchers in the fleet still managed to make significant progress. so while the planes could handle the pressure, it wouldn’t be for long. caleb knew this and decided to take the risks anyway, knowing you’d be right back on base, eager to patch him up if anything ever happened.
…now, the word “anything” was an understatement.
his partners warned him not to go any deeper. the jet itself told him not to push his luck. but as caleb stares at the red letters on his radar, his determination to finish this mission began to outweigh the thoughts of death and destruction.
[warning: cabin pressure low. turn back now.]
he should have listened.
when he next awakens, he’s blinded by the fluorescence of the base’s lights and by the beauty of your worried face as you and a few other nurses wheel him to the medbay on a gurney.
his whole body hurts, and it’s as if someone’s splitting his skull open, but seeing your face and hearing your voice makes him feel just the tiniest bit better. in the end, he won.
“colonel!” you call out to him with the perfect mix of worry and professionalism. “can you hear me?”
caleb groans softly but manages a nod.
“yeah, i—“ he’s unable to finish his sentence thanks to a coughing fit, the taste of metal filling his mouth. your lips press into a thin line as you grab the clipboard from the base of the gurney.
“schedule him for an mri,” you order, your free hand lifting up his shirt to gently press against his abdomen. he lets out a pained grunt despite the shiver that goes down his spine at your touch. “no swelling yet, but there could be internal bleeding.”
a nurse nods and takes the clipboard from you, off to schedule the scan you requested. but your focus is now on him.
meanwhile, his brows furrow.
internal bleeding?
“you passed out while in the cockpit,” you explain to him, finally wheeling him into an empty room. you pull the blue curtains to section off the area from the outside world. “you’re lucky your colleagues were there when it happened.”
oh, that’s right. he remembers now.
the deeper into the tunnel he went, the more unwell he felt. he ignored it— a bad idea, he later realizes. the last thing caleb remembers was pressing the emergency button to his side.
he frowns slightly but lets you work on him, tracking your every move.
“oh. are they alright?” he asks.
you administer an iv drip to his arm while another nurse hooks up the heart monitor. you glance up at the monitor before cursing under your breath, lifting up his shirt again and pressing your stethoscope to his bare chest.
“he’s a bit tachy—“ you declare, looking at the rapid 176 on the screen. “start an esmolol drip— yeah, they’re okay. no major injuries.”
your response is half-hearted, too focused on treating him rather than making conversation. but underneath the professionalism is something deeper than just being professional.
it’s not like you two were professional in the first place, but you care for him— you really do.
he can’t make out what the hell you’re saying. it’s all medical nonsense he doesn’t understand, but hearing you speak it is like music to his ears. because of this, he decides to remain silent until a majority of his treatment is over.
he hopes that by then, you’ll stop treating him like a patient and more like caleb. your caleb.
by the time the medicine kicked in, the medical bay is quiet, and he can hear you greet the other nurses a good night as they sign out for the day. then, footsteps get louder outside his room.
you gently pull open the curtains, clipboard in hand as you look down at caleb. even when critically injured, he still looks incredibly handsome.
he opens his eyes upon sensing your arrival, his eyes softening his a fraction.
“you feeling alright?” you inquire, walking over to his side to check his vitals. your gentle hands work methodically to monitor his blood pressure before writing it down on the clipboard.
“not really,” he tries to lighten the mood with a self-deprecating joke, but straightens out when you seem to take it seriously. “but i feel better now that you’re here.”
you stay silent for a moment, eyes locked onto the clipboard. then, you turn around, peeking your head outside the curtain. it’s just the two of you in the med-bay.
suddenly, you feel your cheeks flush with warmth. you haven’t been alone with him since the incident in his office.
you turn back to face him, standing off to the side of his bed. you don’t look happy.
“why would you do that?” you hiss, your hands clutching your clipboard too hard for comfort. “you knew the risks!”
when you scold him, caleb cracks a tired smile. god, he missed your voice.
“worried? aww.”
“this isn’t funny, caleb!” you frown.
“you’re right. it’s not,” he hums. “it’s cute.”
you quickly shut your lips, restraining yourself from saying anything else. when caleb teases you like this, you’ve learned it’s best to keep quiet. talking to him is like talking to a brick wall.
“of course i was worried,” you sigh, your tone softer as you shove your clipboard under your arm. “i always worry when you do stupid shit like this. and maybe i’m worrying more than i should be, because technically you’re my boss, and—“
“go out with me.”
his words stop your rambling immediately. you glare at him, eyes widened slightly.
“what?”
his violet eyes trace over every delicate curve of your face, landing on the soft slope of your lips. his heart hurts knowing that he hadn’t kissed them in ages, but he repeats his offer with no hesitation.
“go out with me. i don’t care if i get court-martialed. i want you.”
you swallow the lump in your throat. the moment you had been avoiding was finally here, and you’re beginning to think that you’re the tachycardic one with how fast your heart is beating.
sure, you love your job. but lately, you’ve realized that maybe you love him, too. each day without seeing him only leaves you wanting more.
“i—“ you begin, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.
“it’s okay. you don’t have to answer now,” he reassures you. “i just wanted to tell you in case we got interrupted again. it’s been weighing on my mind recently, and i would have gone crazy if i didn’t do anything about it.”
his voice is hoarse and weak from hours of unuse (you had told him to go easy on the speaking, not wanting him to cough up any more blood). but it’s also sincere and soft in a way he’s never spoken to anyone before.
for a moment, you hesitate. you think of excusing yourself to go get him water. something, anything that would allow you to get away from him and collect your thoughts. but caleb is too perceptive for that.
“don’t run away,” he pauses to take a short breath. “please.”
those words are all it takes for the wall of professionalism between you two to melt away.
with a sigh, you take a step closer to the edge of the gurney.
“okay. i won’t,” you murmur, hesitating for a moment before bringing your hand up to softly stroke his hair. caleb leans into your touch like a cat, closing his eyes.
the two of you bask in silence. you’ve done this many times, but now it’s different. it’s not awkward or tense; now it’s comfortable. intimate, even.
caleb sighs softly, now comfortable despite the lingering ache in his body. he knows the next briefing won’t be good, but all he cares about is you. only you.
your hand lingers on the top of his head for just a moment before slowly removing it. he looks peaceful for once, not worrying about missions or slow recruits. a warmth blooms through your heart, thinking that this look suits him much better.
as you stare at him, you realize that you wouldn’t mind waking up to this face in the morning. you wouldn’t mind his corny jokes, or the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you.
a normal, domestic life sounds… nice.
caleb notices the change in your expression and cracks a small smirk, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. he manages to prop himself up into a sitting position, his back still supported by the gurney.
“what are you thinking about?” he quips.
you’re quick to shake your head and dismiss him, but it’s useless. the two of you are alone, so why did you still want to hide?
“nothing,” you reply. “i just missed you.”
caleb’s eyes soften. wanting to return the favor, he outstretches an arm to brush over your cheekbone with his hand.
“hey. don’t be like that,” he smiles softly. “i’m here now, aren’t i? come here.”
when you obey and lean closer, he meets you halfway with a kiss to your lips. they’re slightly chapped, but they feel like heaven against your skin as you kiss him back gently, still mindful of his fragile state.
when you pull away, you rest your forehead against his.
“for the record,” you breathe. “i’d love to go out with you.”
i apologize to the med majors for the medical inaccuracies LMAOOO. i did very minimal research. sorry this took so long — been busy. but i hope you enjoyed. not my best work but it’s something :,)
tag-list! (to those of you who did not specifically ask for a tag, i apologize haha just thought you’d like the update)
do not transfer my work to any other platform or feed it to ai. if a post of mine sparks your creativity, please credit/tag me. i would love to read what you write.
a/n: i really love the forbidden love-esque/forbidden under professional ranks trope. let me know if you guys want a part two or even a full fic..... (i know i said i'd stop with the chunky headers but since this is a headcanon post i figured why not. also i love making moodboards hhhhh)
—> sparkle gif by cursed-carmine!
wc: 2.2k (not proofread) — 🎧 so high - doja cat
tags: colonel!caleb x medic!reader, workaholic caleb, avoidant caleb (?), mutual pining, fluff, mature themes (implied sexual tension, drinking), content regarding real military setup and in-game lore may be inaccurate but fuck it we ball
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ — colonel!caleb, the man everyone on base fears, has a soft spot for one person, and one person only. he swears up and down that he doesn't, but everyone in the farspace fleet has witnessed the way he makes goo-goo eyes at the pretty nurse who works just down the hallway. you.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ — colonel!caleb has had eyes on you since you first began working in the farspace fleet. making it into the fleet was already a huge accomplishment by itself, but the fact that you were already highly accomplished was what caught his eye. you had previously worked as a combat medic in the military, both on and off-field. it wasn't until you were "honorably discharged" (a nicer way of saying you weren't needed anymore) that you were out of a job and realized you missed the thrill of working in dangerous situations.
your record was clean -- you simply completed your term at the highest level of perfection anyone had to offer. so when you asked your (former) superior for another position, he hesitated. how could a fragile thing like you actually enjoy this profession?
he says he'll see what he can do and suggests you to an allied branch of the military. needless to say, your application to join the farspace fleet was accepted and effective immediately.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ — colonel!caleb's first encounter with you is brief. a few recruits of his are injured during a recon mission in the deepspace tunnel, which leaves him to drag them back to base like a mother hen.
"three of my men were exposed to radiation during our recon mission in the deepspace tunnel," he informs you, his tone flat and professional as always. caleb has his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you work with meticulous precision. "i apologize for the inconvenience -- we turned back as soon as we realized the protocore radiation was high."
your brows furrow slightly as you examine the men on the cots in front of you, all weakened and slightly pale. before turning to acknowledge caleb, you order one of your colleagues to prepare blood tests.
"they may need to go under radiation therapy," you reply. "we'll need to run some blood tests to see how severe the exposure was, but from the looks of it, it's good that you turned back as early as you did."
the polite smile you give him has caleb's heart doing something odd. he nods and lets you get back to work, but lingers a moment longer to watch the way you handle everything with such grace and care. you work like you actually enjoy your job, which is rare in the fleet. most days, not even he enjoys his job.
but he doesn't think much of it. not yet, at least.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ — colonel!caleb soon realizes that your enthusiasm is annoyingly contagious. even the most stubborn men can walk into the medical bay and come out significantly calmer after.
you're happy. too happy. and oddly enough, caleb hates it. hates the way you bring light to this otherwise dark environment. it reminds him that there's more to life outside of work, but he's buried himself in too deep. and he's terrified that if he digs himself out, he won't know what to do.
for a few weeks, he begins to avoid you like the plague. he's afraid of the way his heart beats faster when he looks in your direction, afraid of the way everyone in the fleet talks about you with enough praise that makes him feel like he's missing out. he can't afford distractions. not now, not ever.
he's a wreck. he's talked to you once and has already started to develop a small crush on you. which is exactly why he doesn't plan to talk to you.
that is, until, he's the one getting injured.
it was an accident. an engine malfunction. he's not entirely sure what happened, because he's cruising at a stable pace up until the engines start sputtering. in the blink of an eye, his whole plane is burning up, which forces him to make an emergency landing in the ocean.
caleb is fine for the most part. but as he sits in the ruined cockpit of his jet waiting for backup, he sighs internally. the blood dripping down his forehead is begging for attention from a certain someone.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ — colonel!caleb is rushed to the medical bay as soon as he's back on base. his heart beats erratically, both from the adrenaline and from staring at the worried look on your face as you wheel him to an isolated part of the wing.
the rest passes in a blur, his eyes never leaving your form as you rush to take care of one of the farspace fleet's most valued personnel. you soon return to his side with a tray and a bunch of tools he can barely make out.
gosh. even the way you talk to him is so dreamy.
"sir-- please refrain from sitting up. you've lost a lot of blood."
"tell me if it hurts, okay? i need to disinfect your wound before i wrap it up."
"no, your reports can wait. you need to recover first."
with little restraint after that, you begin to work your magic on the colonel. there isn't one inch of his body that isn't hurting, and yet all he can focus on is the way you touch him. your fingers lightly tap against the pulse point on the inside of his elbow before hooking him up to an iv, then moving to gently press a pad of gauze against his bleeding forehead.
caleb finds himself leaning into your touch without realizing. he silently wishes you could touch him without the damn gloves on.
by the time he's properly patched up (and has enough fluids in his body to think clearly again), the adrenaline has worn off. his whole body aches, even after taking a bunch of painkillers. but he acknowledges he's been through worse pain before and decides to suck it up, not wanting to bother you any longer.
you advise him to take it easy the next few days, and that he would most likely need to stay overnight for further observation. as you begin to lock up for the night, caleb suddenly finds the courage to speak up, his voice slightly hoarse from hours of unuse.
"thank you. for taking care of me."
you turn around, taken aback by his show of gratefulness. this man, who had done everything to avoid you since the day you stepped onto base, was thanking you for doing your job.
suddenly, you smile.
"it's my job to take care of you. no need to thank me."
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ — colonel!caleb stops trying to avoid you from that day on. in fact, he does the exact opposite. he stops trying to push your light away, and instead encourages it.
stopping by the medical bay for a "quick chat" has become part of his routine. some days, he'd stop by and bring you lunch, never asking if you've already eaten because he already knows the answer will be "no".
any second of free time you got was spent with each other. in the early mornings to the lunch breaks to the mere hours before curfew, you could always be seen by his side, and vice versa.
everyone's noticed. of course everyone has noticed. their stone-cold colonel doesn't laugh and "accidentally" brushes shoulders with just anyone. but nobody dares to say anything. they all know they'll get their head blown off if they do.
caleb finds himself relaxing around you in a way that he hasn't been in a long time. it's oddly refreshing, much like the way looking at you is like a breath of fresh air after a long day.
on late nights, you two drink whiskey in his office. on days you don't feel like drinking, it's apple cider instead. however, after a long day of dealing with an influx of patients, you decide that tonight it's going to be whiskey.
you sigh as you lean back into the cushions of the couch (because of course he has a couch in his office), your wrist swirling the cup that caleb usually reserves for polite drinks with other officials. you're not quite tipsy, but not quite sober, either. your cheeks are dusted a faint rose pink, a color barely noticeable under the bleak moonlight.
but caleb sees it all. he's learned enough about you to know that you have enough alcohol in your system to just relax and nothing else. he likes this side of you, and he likes knowing that he's the only person in the fleet to see you like this.
"you know," you murmur, pausing to down the rest of your beverage. he watches as your adam's apple bobs with the movement, and tries to ignore the way his whole body floods with heat. "i used to think you hated me."
his brows furrow slightly.
"yeah?" he questions, elbows resting on his desk as he sets his drink down, leaning forward on the surface. "why's that?"
you simply shrug, leaning forward to grab the bottle of whiskey from the coffee table to give yourself a refill.
"dunno. you just... were always avoiding me. i thought i did something wrong."
caleb pauses for a moment. he's not sure what he feels: guilt? shame? embarrassment? all of the above?
you're right. he had been avoiding you. but he also had his reasons. with a slightly amused smile, he decides to fess up and tell you the truth. the alcohol had made him a bit more bolder than he usually is.
"wanna know why i was always avoiding you?" he quips, waiting for your response. when you stay silent, waiting for an answer, he continues.
"you're just so... likable. i was afraid that if i started to like you, i wouldn't be able to think straight. maybe i would've driven myself crazy over you, or something."
he chuckles softly, looking down at his hardwood desk before looking back up at you. your eyes are tinted with something softer after hearing his confession, and his heart skips a beat.
without thinking, caleb glances at your plump lips. and for the first time since he's met you, he wonders what it would feel like to kiss you. to taste you.
the moment passes by as quickly as it came. he tears his gaze away from your lips before meeting your gaze again, adding:
"but now you're all i can think about."
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ — colonel!caleb walks you back to your quarters on the same night. the air between you two is charged with something neither of you can quite put your finger on, but it's not uncomfortable at all.
the barracks are quiet around this time. it's peaceful compared to the chaos that usually ensues in the morning, but your side of the living quarters are relatively calmer. you think know that you wouldn't mind living on base full time. it would give you an excuse to see caleb every day.
now, he's just caleb. not "colonel caleb", or "superior", just "caleb". your caleb.
your walking slows as you two approach a small, grey building to the far west of the residential areas. it's a bleak, two-story building, meant to hold up to six to eight residents. this was where the medical staff lived.
"well, this is me," you turn to face caleb, absentmindedly swaying on your feet. a force of habit you developed when you became awkward or nervous. he notices, but doesn't comment. "thanks for the drink."
he nods in response, hands in the pockets of his slacks.
"yeah, of course. any time."
neither of you make a move to leave, standing in front of each other under the flickering lamplight. you can smell him from here -- the expensive cologne he uses, the whiskey on his breath... it's intoxicating.
oddly enough, it's caleb who breaks the silence. he gives you a soft, teasing smile, one you've dubbed a "caleb special".
"alright, then. goodnight, doc."
you crack a smile yourself, and you look up to observe his soft expression. the smile on his face is new. rare, even, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. he only smiles like that with you.
his violet eyes twinkle under the moonlight, which also serves to make his sharp features seem soft. you swallow the lump in your throat.
then, with a surge of confidence-- alcohol, or maybe both-- you lean closer and press your lips to his. caleb stiffens, but doesn't pull away, instead wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.
you can taste the leftover alcohol on his lips, mingled with those tinned candies he always keeps at his desk. when you begin to pull away, he pulls you back, and the sensation is intoxicating.
finally, he relents, allowing you to pull away. the way he looks at you is softer now, and it makes warmth bloom in your chest. unable to help yourself, you lean in for one last quick kiss. this time, it's chaste and straight to the point.
"goodnight, colonel."
read part 2 here! thank you for all the love and support everybody :D.
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@alyceres 2026
do not transfer my work to any other platform or feed it to ai. if a post of mine sparks your creativity, please credit/tag me. i would love to read what you write.
