I’m A Fraud Who Doesn’t Play The Games, I Just Wanted To Tweak Her Outfit Shapes Some

i’m thinking about satoru and you who have been married for many years with three kids, a daughter in high school and twin boys in middle school. you thought this was it, that you’d have no more children. your husband and you were rather content with your lives and have been focusing more on yourselves and work due to the freedom the stages of life your children are in grant.

things were perfect in your perfect little family, but sometimes things don’t always go to plan. one morning you find yourself throwing up — which was odd, but then the following days you start having strange cravings and you can feel the disgusted stares your teenage daughter throws your way at your…choices — your husband even arching a brow (though he’s one to talk as he’s one to indulge in odd food combinations regularly).

you chalk it all up to nothing until you realize you’ve missed your period this month, and with a sneaking suspicion, you purchase a pregnancy test, something you hadn’t done in a long time, only to find out you’re expecting.

you and satoru never planned on having anymore kids, and you were on birth control which boggles your mind even more! you know it’s not always effective, but it’s worked so well the past couple of years, so why did it suddenly decide not to?

Happy Boorthday to our Bootiful Tangerine Boy 🧡

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re-entering my slut era

so can we start hunting down white liberals now or what

Heatwave: Day 4

tw: explicit content. 13k+ words. College AU. Satoru/Reader, past (unrequited) Suguru/Reader and Suguru/Satoru. afab!beta!reader (they/them), alpha!gojo. feral!gojo, feral!reader, i am not sorry

Some alcohol, but no one is actually drunk. oral (reader receiving), sex toys, dirty talk, knots, satoru in rut, satoru is a little gross but only because he's obsessed, you and satoru take turns going insane over each other

childhood friends to lovers. humor. intense platonic love. PINING. so much pining. omegaverse antics. gojo has provider/caretaker!alpha instincts. this fic is more romance than smut so just read it if you want chemistry and yearning with gojo that ends in sex.

Prompt: A beta develops the ability to smell scents and finds themselves losing their mind.

You’d never particularly minded being a beta. Sure, alphas and omegas didn’t have to deal with periods, but considering how awful ruts and heats can be, you think you got the better end of the deal.

In isolation, being a beta isn’t a bad thing, although there’s times you’ve wished you were something else.

Your best friend, Satoru Gojo, is an alpha, and that had never really mattered, either.

Then one day – you wake up, as per usual.

You meet up with him and walk to Jujutsu Technical College together; Satoru lives on campus, but he likes to walk with you. Presumably to snag an extra ten minutes or so during which to be a pain in your ass.

As soon as he sees you, he beams, a spring in his extra large stride as he comes up behind you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.

This wasn’t unusual. He’d done this a million times before. What’s unusual is a – something in the air. You sniff, and Satoru picks it up right away, sniffing along with you.

Whatever you’re smelling, he must not detect it.

It doesn’t smell like anything specific, you couldn’t definitively match it to a food or candle or anything in particular.

It’s a sweet and sour sort of thing, similar to lemonade; it almost makes scrunch your nose, and at the same time your mouth waters as if you can already taste it.

“What is it?” He looks at you from behind those stupid sunglasses that somehow looked awesome on him. “I know it’s not me.”

“Nothing, I just thought I caught a whiff of like… a drink or something. I must have spilled it on my clothes somewhere.” You’re really sure you didn’t, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

It makes less sense that the smell gets stronger when Satoru leans in towards you – way too close, you’ve gotta yell at him about personal space sometime – and takes an exaggerated sniff.

“You look like a pervert,” Your observation doesn’t stop him in the least. In fact, you think he sniffs even harder. “Have I got crack on me or something?” Satoru snickers at that.

“Nah, I’m actually not getting anything.” He leans in even more, almost towards your neck, “You sure you’re not going crazy?”

“Ugh, stop it, you freak!” You shove him aside, and he lets you with a laugh.

You don’t smell it again for the rest of the walk.

-

You visit a doctor’s office. Nothing has been unusual between your legs, and god knows Satoru would have teased you about it immediately if he’d smelled anything different.

But the doctor tells you why you smelled something he didn’t; alphas, especially young ones not yet out of their teenage years, were generally blind to their own scents, as most people were.

What you’d been smelling had been Satoru.

Sudden onset scent sensitivity. Real tongue-twister of a name, but it was real, and you’d looked it up after they told you about it.

It’s funny, because you’ve never had a very strong sense of smell; Satoru had always been utterly baffled by it.

Especially after presenting, he was floored at the fact that you couldn’t tell that his jacket smelled like him, to which you’d asked him (very seriously) if he had ever heard of a washing machine.

Washing with soap did typically remove the scent from articles of clothing, but it was common for an alpha or omega to run their hands over fresh laundry, or toss a clean-but-scented blanket into the dryer for a quick tumble.

Scenting stuff. You’d never really gotten the idea behind it. All humans were born with scent glands, and their secondary sexes develop those glands – along with their genitalia – in different ways.

A beta like you had no secondary sex hormones, and consequently didn’t develop any secondary sex characteristics. While betas do have scent glands, the scent they produce is weaker, and they don’t emit pheromones at all.

However, human bodies and developments were as diverse as they were weird. It wasn’t uncommon for individuals to produce a specific hormone or group of hormones, developing part of a secondary sex’s characteristics without actually presenting as one.

Turns out your body produces a hormone linked to the ability to smell pheromones. The doctor said it had probably started happening during puberty, and over the years, it eventually led to your newfound sensitivity.

That didn’t make you an alpha or an omega, but it did clue you in to something that only they could sense. A whole new world of conversations and invisible signaling going on, pheromones, scents –

And, as you learned in a painful, awkward stint past Satoru’s dorm room at the college – there was no good way of saying this – cum.

Good old whiff of cum while you walked by, so profuse it almost kind of gagged you, head racing with confusion and alarm at what the fuck this new sensation was.

But very quickly you catch on to how your heart picks up, how your thighs clench. Alpha cum has pheromones in it, after all.

And a peek into his bachelor pad later reveals a trashcan full of tissues you wouldn’t have glanced twice at before. Maybe not even once.

Just beside them is a seemingly innocuous crumpled up sock and your nose is saying yUP. THE SEXY IS ON THE SOCK.

Okay, so it’s cum. And you know it’s cum. And you’ll know it’s cum every time you visit, and every time Satoru is even a little bit messy with it, which is always, because he doesn’t know that you can smell his cum.

Cool, cool, okay, cool.

But that was fine. Totally fine, right? It’s not like you thought Satoru was a monk or anything. So, your best friend jerks off sometimes. He’s a teenage boy, it’d be weirder if he didn’t!

It’s hard to look him in the (extremely pretty) eyes that day, though.

It isn’t a gross scent, exactly, it’s just very… distinct.

Satoru’s cum does still smell a bit like him, that tangy, mouth-watering scent, but with an unmistakable undertone that your brain can only register as horny.

But like. You know what it is! You’re forced to know! And even if you’re just a beta, you can’t help how you react to the knowledge.

Even if it’s weird, though, in a (deeply awkward, uncomfortable) way you’re glad.

You were close friends with alphas and omegas, and those friendships were just like any other, really, but there was this type of communication that you couldn’t understand.

Omegas and alphas would just get certain things about one another, a natural sort of empathy that only came from shared experiences.

A party that you weren’t invited to, a bunch of inside jokes you weren’t in on, a language you couldn’t understand.

Satoru was your best friend, but you didn’t think for a second that you were his.

His best friend was a fellow alpha, Suguru Geto. You’d met in high school, years ago, and you’d been crushing on Geto for a while before he presented. You’d already presented by then and you were sure he’d be a beta, just like you.

Even though Satoru had been telling you for weeks that he’d be an alpha. Said he could just tell. He just knew. Boy, it was annoying when it finally happened.

Alpha-beta pairs aren’t the rarest thing in the world but they’re not that common, either.

You’d been hopeful about it for a while, until you see how the two of them got along, understood each other so seamlessly, connected even during their not-so-uncommon arguments.

(Satoru had always gone to you, after those, to complain. As if you’d take his side over Geto’s! Even if you weren’t infatuated with the guy, he was way more reasonable than Satoru. High school Satoru was a menace.)

Even after Geto left for a different college, there was always this layer of distance that you felt between you two after he presented.

Satoru didn’t seem to know it existed at all, but you felt it, every time he or Geto or anyone else referenced these feelings that only alphas or omegas experienced. Feelings you couldn’t understand.

“Eugh, I’m in pre-rut, it totally sucks…”

“I told you, Satoru, order one of those online rut kits. The included toys work really well.”

“Whaaaaaaat? I thought you were gonna ask out that omega guy from Chemistry!”

“Don’t remind me, I almost wish I had. God, if I did, maybe I could spend the next rut with him…”

And it was bad enough that you kept being reminded of it, that your crush was an alpha and his dream partner would always be an omega.

That you’d never be what he wanted, just what he had, even if you got together.

What was worse was how touchy they got, even after presenting. Casually slinging arms around your shoulders, both of them, hugs to say hello and goodbye, the sudden familiarity and physicality you could only attribute to them presenting as alphas.

It was apparently normal for alphas or omegas to want to scent their close friends, and you were always stuck between the two. Some kind of pack behavior stuff.

Satoru constantly took your stuff, made plans with you then cancelled later, showed up whenever you were trying to make new friends to scare people off.

Like all your free time should belong to him, even if all he wanted to do was find an omega to bang. You were young, and dumb, and Satoru was your closest friend, so you let him get away with it.

He’d always been possessive like that. There weren’t a lot of people who could get close to Satoru, and even fewer people who stayed there.

He was needy, demanding, and capricious all at once, just as likely to leave you on read than to spam you with twenty messages in five minutes.

So hot and cold. Geto got most of Satoru’s attention back in high school, and when he could be bothered to hang out with you, Geto was usually there too.

Geto was less of a raging whore than Satoru, but they talked about it casually enough for you to know they both got around. Like it was some badge of pride.

Dumb alpha crap. Even when they didn’t want you, they had to be weird towards you.

They’d steal your clothes, try to get you to wear theirs, fussing over seemingly meaningless trivialities, like which colors you liked better, whose lunch you wanted a bite from, where you sat during movie night.

Exchanging looks while you glared at them, like they were speaking in a language you didn’t know. Satoru’s arm around your neck while Geto leaned into your side.

But you could tell what was going on between them. Bumping into each other, shoving one another’s shoulders and laughing.

The casual competition that extended to everything – sports, grades, social connections – not just you. How Satoru started spending more time with Geto, hanging out without you.

Nothing was more important to Satoru than finding someone who understood him.

He’d been utterly heartbroken when Geto left, and if this was how he reacted to losing a best friend who he insisted he didn’t have feelings for, you dreaded how he’d react to an actual breakup.

For his part, Satoru had gotten better. You got better at establishing boundaries, making other friends, and telling him directly that he made you feel like shit sometimes. Slamming the door in his pretty face had never felt so good.

If you’d known how easy he was, how that was all it took to get him crying and whining and scratching at your door, then you’d have kicked him to the curb ages ago.

Satoru had tried hard to understand you from then on, to respect your boundaries; borrowing things instead of stealing, keeping his commitments, be the friend you deserved, and not do weird alpha posturing crap.

But now you could detect some of the things that they could. You had a little look into the world he’d been living in, of scents and pheromones and irresistible arousal...

And you’re just as confused as before.

Confirming what you’d always thought; you’re a beta, he’s an alpha, and nothing in the world could ever bridge this particular gap between you two.

There’s so many weird things, so many mixed signals, it honestly doesn’t make any sense.

It has to be something an omega would understand, something Satoru or Geto’s ideal partner would just get, that you… couldn’t.

You start smelling Satoru’s scent in a lot of places, not just when you’re around him.

Somewhere in your closet. Okay, that makes sense, you remember him getting something out of there one time. When you look, you find the source of the scent – a scarf.

Satoru had bought a matching version after seeing it on you; it was something he’d done before. Shown up with an identical article of clothing, crowing about it totally looked better on him. You couldn’t roll your eyes hard enough at him.

He must have dropped it and thought it was yours. You’d sworn your copy of this scarf was in this closet, but you can’t find it, so maybe you wore it and left it somewhere else and forgot. Or maybe he picked up your version –

No, wait, he wouldn’t have. Satoru was supposed to be mostly blind to his own scent but he could smell yours, at least a little.

And scent blindness didn’t apply to objects or people that were actually scented… or maybe they did? You’d have to check it out. Just more alpha things you didn’t understand.

Besides, you were being pretty careless with your laundry lately. There’s an extra sock that appears in your wash, making you think that maybe he really did just leave his scarf and yours is still lying around somewhere, but the sock is nowhere near his size.

Sometimes you think this new scent sensitivity is just driving you crazy.

There’s more, too. Like a pen of yours that suddenly reeks of him; you recall having seen him put it in his mouth when staying over for a study session, but you’d assumed it was his own back then.

He would still help himself to your things these days, boy-prince that he was - he just made sure to repay you later, always with something nicer than what he'd taken. And he never took anything important.

Saliva was so strongly scented that even Satoru would have had to smell it, and he just did that to your pen? Eugh!

And how he leans into you when you’re walking side by side sometimes. An arm over your shoulder.

Now, you realize that with the way he rests his stupid lanky ass body against you, your hair often gets tucked into his neck, right where his glands ooze his electric scent all over you.

But Satoru’s weird, he’s always been weird. Probably a bit possessive, too – you remembered him and Geto doing this crap in high school, it’s just that you’re only now noticing how obvious it is to anyone who can smell it.

Then, one day hanging out in his dorm, you start to smell something different on him. His sweet and sour smell practically burns in the air like ozone, overtaking your head from the first sniff just like a shock.

Satoru doesn’t even notice you being weird about it, either, he just gets all huffy and tells you to come sit next to him.

Wait. Is he… is Gojo…

You look at him, making a face you’ve seen about a million times before, eyes glancing away as if bored.

One breath in and your senses scream horny. Horny, horny boy, horny jail, Satoru might as well be blushing and grabbing his crotch from what your brain is suddenly screaming at you.

This isn’t the scent you’d smelled before, when he had – oh god WHY do you have to be thinking this – just finished jerking off.

What??? What is it?? What is going ON? He hadn’t been watching porn or something before you came in, right?

“Satoru?” You say his name and his head instantly turns to you, like he’s standing to attention.

Something more trickles into the air just for a moment, a happy burst of pheromones reminiscent of a tiny little firework.

…He didn’t just, like, cum or anything, right?

Your name interrupts your thoughts, “What is it?” Big blue eyes looking at you. Pretty as ever.

There’s an inexplicable fondness that rushes through you, a rush of comfort, and reassurance, like you can tell him anything and he’ll help you.

“Uh, just – are you studying for Calc II? I have a test coming up.” Satoru isn’t in Calc II, what were you talking about? Why did you even ask?

“Yeah, I took it, let me get you my notes from last semester!” He shoves the chair back quicker than you’d expect, a grin creeping up his face, “Say thank you senpai~” He says in sing-song as he waves a notebook at you.

You roll your eyes. “We’re both sophomores.”

“But you’re behind me in this class,” Always so smug, “Don’t worry~ You know I’ve always got you, hm?”

Something feels too warm inside you for him to smell this horny. And why is it getting to you like this? What’s getting to you? Is this some kind of alpha thing? Does he even know he’s doing this?

You almost open up your mouth to ask him, but think better of it.

It’s not something you’d get anyways. You’re a beta and all.

“Yeah. Thanks, Satoru.”

He actually leaves you to study in peace after that. He takes the bed, claiming he just needs to review some stuff, and lets you sit at his desk and write answers.

Every now and then, you find your voice asking for help out loud with uncharacteristic meekness. Like you’re afraid he’ll tease you more instead of helping (the teasing, you expect, but surely you know he’ll help you anyways).

But Satoru darts over with an equally uncharacteristic attentiveness, looking over your shoulder, explaining the problem right away from beginning to end, patiently covering each part and answering your questions.

His face feels so warm next to yours. You know his neck – his scent glands – are digging into your shoulder where he’s looming over you, arms reaching around your side to point at different parts of the problem. Satoru doesn’t realize you smell it, but like this, his scent is overwhelming.

It leaves you flushed, tugging at your collar and swallowing dryly.

“Oh, you thirsty? I was about to get snacks!” He chirps before practically prancing off.

Satoru sounds weirdly excited to do it. It isn’t that weird – he loves study treats, “A little reward for working so hard~” – but his scent exudes a weird eagerness, a satisfaction, like he’s doing a really good job at… something.

What is this? Some alpha thing? You use the opportunity you get when he prances off to fan yourself. Take a deep breath or two.

There’s nothing weird about this, Satoru is acting the way he’s always been acting. He doesn’t know you can tell, now.

No way are you letting go of this advantage, after all that time he must have lorded it over you. In high school his scent was probably even stronger, and he and Geto rubbed it ALL over you!

Something catches your eye, though, or rather your nose. It’s on the corner of his desk, at the very edge. It smells like Satoru everywhere in here (you’d begun to learn that teen alpha boys, much like regular teen boys, absolutely reeked) but this scarf doesn’t. In fact, you think you recognize it.

Picking it up, you can smell your own scent on it, just faintly. Betas don’t smell like much, but this was something you wore often, and you can catch the faint vanilla sugar aroma that’s supposed to be peaceful and calming, like betas apparently are.

This was it, the same scarf that had gone missing in your closet. This one being yours – it still had your scent on it, somehow, even with how much Satoru reeked – and the one in your closet, as you suspected, was his.

The little thief! What was he doing with your clothing? Did he lose his scarf and decide to nick yours?

But… how could he have lost it in your closet? You were pretty sure you’d left yours in your closet.

From what you know about Alphas, they’re not supposed to like foreign scents in their “dens”, even from a mild beta. It would be immediately obvious that this doesn’t belong.

Maybe, being blind to his own scent, he didn’t notice your smell, but if he’d used it, even for just a couple hours, your scent should be totally gone from it.

So why’s it just sitting here, away from his bed or anywhere else the scent of you on it might be disturbed?

Satoru must have swapped them out intentionally. Or – why would he? If he took yours and just didn’t wear it, then that would explain it, too, right? Maybe the one in your room was yours, and he’d just swapped them back after wearing it. But why? Satoru would probably borrow your toothbrush if it saved him a trip to the convenience store, he didn’t care.

Your mind spins and spins until Satoru comes back, a couple bags of convenience store treats and drinks in hand, grinning and preening so hard – “Aren’t I just the best partner? Study buddy? You’re wel~come~” – if he were a dog his tail would be wagging wildly behind him.

Whatever. You’re just going crazy. Betas aren’t even supposed to be able to tell any of this stuff. It’s weird, you wouldn’t get it.

But Satoru gets you – has your back, like he always does. You leave his company smiling, content, like you always have.

-

After you ace the test the next night, you run at him beaming with excitement. He catches you in his arms and spins you around and you smell a pure and genuine joy in his scent as he teases you.

“Of course you aced it! You doubted my teaching?!”

“Never, Satoru-sensei~”

“Hehe. What a promotion from being your senpai!”

“I never admitted that!”

(Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. And you’ll hand it over with a smile, too, because when have you ever been able to say no to that pretty face?)

Just – you’re friends. You celebrate each other’s accomplishments, nothing weird there.

-

You see your scarf again after a night of drinking.

It’s so stupid. Satoru knows he’s a huge lightweight. He turned twenty right before finals so he’s not technically underage, but still!

So why was he drinking? You’d heard there was some kind of big get-together (Nanami was there, after all), but Satoru wasn’t a social drinker or anything. It was some kind of celebration after finals being over or whatever. Still, the Satoru you knew never drank.

Then you get a text from him, begging you to pick him up from the bar. Why? You’re a college student, you don’t have a car! He can text you, but he can’t get a taxi? He can’t be that wasted.

And you know it’s from him because only Satoru would beg for help while also making it sound like it was an honor for you to help him. Ugh.

The worst part is, even when he’s tipsy and stumbling, he’s well over six damn feet tall and easily sends you stumbling whenever his steps waver. One arm wrapped around you like you’re some kind of living crutch.

“Awh~ Came to pick me up? You really do like me, huh?” He crows, like he hadn’t pleaded with you over text. He smells like fruity vodka and – someone else. Must be an alpha he hung out with at the party.

“Someone has to.” You grumble as you deposit him into the car seat, shoving at his shoulder when he doesn’t move over right away.

He pats on his lap, head tilted back, eyes dreamy and half-lidded as he giggles. Three times, before you scoff, slam the door, and go around the other side to sit next to him. Dumbass.

The ride to the dorm is less annoying than you thought it would be, mainly because Satoru… isn’t actually that drunk at all?

Just tipsy enough to tease you to sit on his lap, apparently.

“Come ooooon! We never cuddle anymore!”

“We haven’t cuddled since we were nine, and you said I had cooties.” It was pretty normal, of course, but it had hurt at the time.

“It’s been over ten years, won’t you forgive me?” He complains, “What, you don’t love me anymore?”

“I’d love to smack you,” You mutter to yourself.

Satoru must overhear you wrong, because he wiggles happily in his seat, reaching out to pull you against him. You let him sit like that for the ride as he rambles on about his night.

It’s cute. You’re a huge homebody – Satoru knows that – but it sounds like he had fun, connected with some old friends. Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara – names you haven’t heard in ages.

By the time you get to the dorms, you’re chatting animatedly about Nanami’s choice of major and whether or not it suited him (You really can’t believe he just went into Accounting like that. Why wouldn’t he go for Literature? He loved the book club you were both in! Satoru insists he was only doing it to get girls, though).

He starts clinging to you again in that weird way (he is totally not drunk enough to need it), where he rests some weight on you but not too much, at an awkward angle since he’s so stupidly tall.

It’s just enough for you to stagger with him to his dorm room, shoving the door open while he snickers at your fumbling – “Thanks for the help, Satoru.” “You’re welcome! Aren’t I just the best?” – like some prince on his throne.

You shove him in, utterly impatient, and groan when his hand finds your arm and pulls you in with him.

Satoru spins around once like the pretty princess he is, laughing to himself, smelling like ozone again as the arousal hits your senses. But he must not notice the surprise on your face, because he reaches out a hand towards you, beckoning while you back towards his bed.

Maybe he is more drunk than you thought, if he was this turned on –

Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait. WAIT!

Your mind is racing ahead, thoughts flooding your synapses, eyes wide as you inhale again and detect the same thing.

The scarf. It’s there, in the corner of your eye.

It doesn’t smell like you anymore. It’s crumpled up in a corner, unmistakably dirtied.

He jerked off on it. He totally fucking jerked off on it. The scarf is literally crusted with his cum. THE FUCK???

It wouldn’t have been weird, just gross, but this isn’t Satoru’s scarf and Satoru knew that. There was no way he’d missed that it smelled like you! It might have even smelled like you when he was jerking off into it!

Did he – why would he –

If he wanted it to smell like him, why jerk off on it? He could just wear the damn thing! Actually, he had one that already smelled like him! And he gave it to YOU! Why???

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest churns harder.

You’re insane. You must be going completely insane.

The sock. No fucking way. There’s no fucking WAY. That would be so gross. Your insides are churning, hot and roiling with something and you just. There’s no way.

That’s the only explanation, because when you open your mouth, you actually say.

“Gojo did you – did you steal my sock? And my scarf?” Your voice gets higher in pitch, “And then jerk off on them?”

You’re definitely going insane, because the Satoru giggles like a kid caught with his hands in the candy jar. Maybe he really did get totally fucking smashed at the get-together. Maybe he’s been getting smashed these whole past few fucking weeks!

“Haha, yeah! I’m in rut, you can’t blame me,” He whines like he totally expects to be excused of this one little slip-up, like jerking off into an article of clothing that smelled like you was just boys being boys or some crap from high school, “And – hey! Don’t call me Gojo!”

He’s – he’s in rut? Had that been why all this weird shit was happening to you? He was just doing some weird alpha crap, and it was getting to you because you could smell it?

A groan escapes you. “Satoru.” Why does he light up when you say his name like that? Why does your chest feel so fucking – “Go sober up and pass out. I’m going home.”

You need to get out of here, before this shit gets to you any more. Satoru doesn’t know he can affect you with this. It’s never affected you before.

Your face is hot. So, so hot.

“Don’t leave.” The words sound like a whimper, like a wail, so impossibly morose. He’s on his knees already in front of you, pawing at you with both hands, clinging. “Don’t leave. Stay with me.”

Crystal blue eyes gazing up at you, wide and tearful. Cheeks still flushed a little pink. Moonlight from the window filtering over his lovely features. Lust in the air, radiating off him, seeping into you with every breath.

He’s so pretty. Satoru’s always been the most beautiful person you know. He’s in rut, and he wants you to stay, and it shocks you how a thrill runs through you at the thought. Desire molten in your chest, dripping down to your core.

“You’re in rut, and you’re drunk – ”

“Even I’m not drunk off one strawberry daiquiri,” And though you’d like to deny it, if Satoru’s sober enough to snark at you, he’s probably not that drunk. Which means this is all his rut – “And god, I’ve wanted you so fucking long. Rut’s just made it worse.”

The words should feel like they’re shattering you. Like decades of friendship are teetering on the balance, on a tightrope over one stupid night of drinks.

Instead you just feel hotter than ever. Every breath tells you what it had been telling you from the beginning, what you were just too blind to see. Desire. Lust. Want.

“I thought we were just friends,” You say quietly, like it’s some confession.

He stands up so he can cup your face, tilt it so your gaze meets his. “It’s okay if you don’t – if you’re not – you know. If it’s too much right now. I was too pussy to say it for a long time, I just scented you, and hung out with you, and whatever else you’d let me, but…”

“How long? I know you didn’t like me in high school.”

“I fucking loved you in high school, I was just a huge dick. You know that.” Those pretty eyes look down, only for a moment, “Back then, I didn’t want to fuck you. Doesn’t mean I didn’t love you to death. Still do.”

“But you want to – ”

“Yeah, I super wanna fuck you now.” He looks back at you with that stupid pretty face and that stupid charming grin, way more cheerful than it has any business being, “But you know, you’ll always be my best friend, right? My number one. If I need to spend a hundred years convincing you that I’ll be the best boyfriend ever, that’s fine.”

A hundred years? You’d dare him to last a hundred seconds without whining for what he wants like the spoiled brat he is.

But his eyes are so bright, and you can smell how much he wants you. He wants you that much and he says this.

“I’ll be so good,” He purrs, arms wrapping around you and bringing you closer to him, “The best. I’m pretty, you know. And I’m rich. I’ll go out on dates with you all the time, my treat, and kiss you, and hold your hand, and you can wear my clothes, it’ll be so great – ”

Satoru starts stepping backwards, dragging you with him towards the bed as he moves.

You chuckle. “Thought about this a lot, have you?”

“Every minute of every day. Half of it I’ve been doing already.” He reaches the bed and turns you so your back is facing it. Pushes you gently to sit.

Satoru gets on his knees in front of you again, and your heart skips a beat. You’re starting to think it’s a good look on him. But his eyes are wicked, his grin feral, pheromones suffocating you in the next breath before he speaks.

“I know you want me too. Let me eat you out.” He’s already taking off his shirt, like he knows what it does to you when you see him shirtless.

Even in high school, that lean, swimmer’s body had left you flustered. Satoru’s always been like that, so effortlessly perfect looking, so unashamed at being seen. He grins at the feeling of your eyes on him, you think he’s even posing a little bit, the diva.

“Yeah, you like that? ‘Course you do. Best alpha around.” His gaze peeks up at you through lowered white lashes, “I’m something special, aren’t I? It’s all yours, baby. All for you.”

God, he’s so beautiful. You’re so weak for him. That hopeful smile makes your heart tremble. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, ethereal with his white hair and shimmering blue eyes and lean, muscled body, and it’s all for you, all yours, baby.

“Satoru…” For a moment, you truly can’t believe this is actually happening.

And then a large, warm hand finds its way into one of yours, threading between your fingers, an easy smile on his lips as he looks up at you. This is him, your best friend. Satoru. Your Satoru.

He nuzzles his head against your legs, digging underneath your pants with impatient fingers, “Say you want me, just say it. I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Why – why are you asking all the sudden?” Your will to resist him is dropping exponentially and you’re pretty sure he knows it. “Why now?”

“Why right now? I’ve been dying for you since my rut began, and finally got myself a dose of liquid courage.” He brings your hand up to his face, kissing over your knuckles. “But if you want to know why I want you… It just happened. Woke up one day wanting you and it never went away.”

“Wanting to fuck me, or wanting to date me?” You’d never thought Satoru would want you. It just seemed so impossible. “I’m a beta, it’s not like I can help your rut.”

Your hand is pressed against the front of his pants, unbearably hot, bulging outward. His fingers trapping your palm against it. It’s like you can feel him pulsing through the fabric. A knot big enough to break you.

There’s a part of you that’s thrilled at the idea, that makes you clench and think I could take it, makes you want to try and shove it inside, but you fantasized enough about Geto and his knot in high school to know. It would be sexy for about three seconds, and then it would just hurt.

Not the good kind of hurt. The kind of hurt that leaves you hyperventilating, snot and tears crying as you panic over the possibility of an embarrassing ER visit, wondering if you’ve actually ripped something down there, it hurts that much.

“It’s all for you, babe, whether or not you want it. It’ll always be for you.” Satoru purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your face, “I’d take your hands over any omega’s pussy any day. Fuck, please, just spit on it, I could cum from that, you know?”

You giggle, bewildered and unreasonably turned on. “You sure you’re not still that stupid horny alpha boy from high school?”

Satoru leans forward so his chin rests on the edge of the bed, looking up at you from between your legs. You become explicitly aware of the wetness growing against your panties.

“Nope. Stupid horny high school me didn’t know shit. This is your modern Satoru Gojo, older and wiser and better than ever.” His eyes sparkle at you. Hand squeezing yours. “Let me? Please, please, let me?”

“Yeah,” the word leaves you like a sigh, from you and from Satoru, “You talk a big game, Satoru. Just try and make me cum.”

You don’t know why you make it out to be a challenge. It’s not easy to make you cum, but it’s not this impossible task either. He’s a clever boy, he can figure it out.

Step one he’s clearly got down perfectly, tugging your pants and panties down in a move so fast it tugs into your knees. You don’t have time to move for him before he lifts your legs for you, dragging your clothes entirely off in one swift, merciless movement.

Oh. You are wet. Your face heats up, and it doesn’t get better because then he grabs your thighs and tugs them apart, spreading you and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, where his face is.

“Okay baby,” He whispers against your cunt, breath hot against you, “One last time. Show me how you touch yourself, show me what you like.”

One last time?

God, you should have known this idiot would need pointers. Even if it was a perfectly reasonable ask.

“Sure, since you need it so much.” You mutter, mostly at the heat on your cheeks, the wiggling feeling in your chest at the way his eyes roam over you, following your hand down between your legs.

Something hot and slimy meets your fingers as soon as they get close, and you nearly yelp –

“Just helping,” Satoru’s got that awful self-satisfied look on his face, and he licks your fingers again, like he wants to suck on them, “Get you nice and wet, first, should never go in dry baby.”

At least he had that much sense. It’s hampered by the fact that he’s talking to you like he knows shit.

“Excuse me, this is still my pussy,” Covering your mortification at touching yourself to an audience with words, you dip your fingers into your entrance just to wet them up some more.

“Not for long,” He grumbles. What? “Just show me how you like it.”

“I’m trying!” You press against your clit from the side, rubbing against it indirectly, leaning into the sensation until you feel pleasure pooling from each press. “No thanks to… the peanut gallery over here.”

Satoru does shut up for a moment, and you try not to think about how it’s because he’s staring intently at your sex, like he’s about to take notes on it or some shit.

Fuck, fuck, he’s so stupidly pretty. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of those beautiful eyes on you. Curse your terrible fucking taste.

You focus on the presses, speeding them up just enough to not be too much, increasing how far you press in, just a little more, moving your hips to nudge yourself into it –

“Okay, enough.” A larger hand snatches your wrist, pulling it away. Your huff is nothing short of indignant and half-disbelieving. But then again, what had you been expecting? “I got it. No more touching yourself.”

The way he says it, blue eyes darkening, sounds a little more serious than it should. Voice a little lower. Scent dusting the air with something powerful, authoritative, distinctly alpha.

He doesn’t mean…

The thought is interrupted by the sensation of his mouth, warm and wide and open against you, so sudden that you cry out with the heat of it. Wet and welcoming.

His hair threads through your hands. It’s soft, so soft. Like feather down, fluttering at your fingertips. In the pale light pouring through the dorm window it shines like starlight. Something heavenly and pure and right there for you to hold.

Even when your hands fist in it, Satoru just moans, rumbling against your cunt as he lapped against it, drawing you dangerously close to the edge.

Those lips, those pretty, pouty lips, pressing tight against your clit while his tongue works over you. Smooth muscle laving over slick flesh, slipping through your folds.

A naughty dip into your entrance that makes you squeak, just exploring. Tracing along the edge, darting in to sample.

When he pulls away, mouth sinfully wet and shiny with strings of arousal, Satoru meets your eyes directly, deliberately. You watch him raise his two index fingers to his lips, open that awful, sultry mouth, and stick them both in.

The way he does it, tongue hanging out and pooling saliva, then laving it over his fingers, you almost expect him to start moaning like a pornstar.

He’s too dumb to do that, though, and instead closes his mouth around his fingers, sucking on them, and pulling them out with an exaggerated pop!

Yeah, that’s your Satoru. Dumbass. You’re horny and amused, and a little bit mad at yourself for it, too.

He catches it when you roll your eyes at him, and sneaks his warm, wet fingertips right up into your entrance while he latches his mouth onto your clit.

The fingers slide in almost too easily, but his are long. It doesn’t take him long to start curling them, dragging them along your walls inside until that, combined with his suckling at your clit, has you whimpering breathlessly, grasping his hair for dear life – it only makes him moan more, and that only makes sparks of pleasure dance up your already tight, throbbing core.

And it’s annoying, so annoying and so hot and unbearably fucking sexy how he looks up at you right when you’re at the edge, like he knows.

Free hand tightening on your thigh like he’s got to keep you from running away from him, pressing his tongue into your clit.

Rubbing it tightly like he fucking knows exactly how hard it sends you spiraling, panting and wide-eyed as you stare down at the beautiful man eating you out like you’re his last meal ever.

You can barely breathe for the way it takes you, hard and fast, flooding you all at once. Blood soaring with every heartbeat, pressure unfurled into ecstatic currents that ripple out from your core, through your whole body.

Satoru suckles on your clit gently, somehow in perfect time with the waves of pleasure that rush over you, making each one crest just a little bit higher than it should.

He never takes his eyes away from yours. He stays like that, softening, letting up as your climax abates and your clit starts to tingle, oversensitive.

Of course, when he pulls away, he looks invariably pleased with himself. You’re not going to say this out loud (regrettably, it looks like he knows anyways, somehow, he just knows this shit about you) but he absolutely should be.

It was a rush that went through your whole body. You felt like you were flying, breezing freely through the air with Satoru keeping you light.

“What, you want a medal?” It doesn’t have much bite to it with your voice all low and breathy and sated. Satoru just grins.

You move to lay back, but Satoru catches you, straddling you on his knees so he’s not sitting on you, pulling you forward against him. The bulge at the front of his pants rubbing up against your abdomen.

“If you’re offering a reward for my skills, I know just the thing~” Satoru sings.

Utterly cheeky of him, to spring this on you while you’re still in the afterglow. “Satoru...”

"Can I put it in? Please please let me put it on, I promise I'll be so good – "

You smack him upside the head, even though his whimper makes you feel both guilty and horny. Extremely horny, actually. He looks really cute, pouting like that, lips pursed like you really hurt him oh so bad. Like a dog that’s been scolded for something it doesn’t understand.

And maybe he is, with the rut in his brain. Stupid and horny and helpless to refuse you because of it, filled with nothing but the need to please you – every thought flowing through your head starts trickling between your thighs.

"No fucking way Satoru, you know I'm not built for that."

Then he whines, wide eyes looking up at you pleadingly, and you actually feel yourself dripping, clenching, ready for him again when you just came moments ago. Cunt aching for the warmth of him.

God, leave it to Satoru to turn you on so much your dumb ass is willing to even entertain the idea of knot training. He’s in rut. You’re just horny and too dumb to have learned your lesson about pining for alphas in high school.

"Not this time. I need practice." You feel yourself flushing even though it's your own suggestion.

He grins, all teeth and hunger. Eyes bright with something that makes your heart flutter.

"Not this time,” he agrees, “I'll train you. Stretch you nice and slow. Over and over and over again until you can take it without hurting. I’ll train you until you are made for it, made for me, won’t put it in until you’re begging. My omega.”

When did you say he would be training you? And why do his words send liquid fire running through your core?

“Not an omega, Satoru.”

“You’ll be mine.” Triumph laces his voice, “I’ll treat you so nice, I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never want any knot but mine.”

Now he’s just going full alpha brain, “I didn’t want any knots in the first place!”

“You’ll want mine.” He says it with an utter confidence only Satoru Gojo can possess, “You’ll love it. I’ll make you love it. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be the best alpha, you’ll never have to make yourself cum again.”

And god, good god, how can he go from puppy dog eyes to proud alpha crowing in the blink of an eye? You just told him you didn’t want his knot! And you only half meant it! God!

“We’ll see about that,” Grumpy, flushed, that’s all you manage, and you’re not even that upset about it.

He rubs up against you like a cat, purring, “I’ll make it good for you, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Then you should take care of him, this time.

“Go get your toy, Satoru.” You tell him like you’re telling a dog to go fetch.

And he does, all eager and grinning as he darts towards a shelf, tugging a toy out of the drawer. It’s literally huge, enough that you might not be able to encircle it with two hands.

“Not as good as you,” He whines as he grabs the lube. You roll your eyes because he’s had none of you yet, “Wouldn’t be as good as you, any of you. You’ll use it on me yourself, at least, right?”

“Yeah, I’m using it on you, dumbass,” You fix him with a look, and he holds your gaze with a pout, “And get used to the idea.” God, you’re flushed again, this is all just so… eugh. “…Cause… you know. We’ll have to go through a lot of knot toys with me, so…”

There’s a spring in his step all the sudden, thrilled at the thought. Brightening as soon as you say “Yeah” – God, was Satoru always this easy?

He lays the toy on your lap like he really is a dog going to fetch, the awful terrible idea you were thinking of comes into shape.

It’s so embarrassing, just the thought makes you feel so… presumptuous, like you’re assuming so much about something you barely understand.

But he wants you. He said he wants you. So you do it.

Flushed, reaching between your legs (the audacity of him to whine and try to tug your hand away), you gather up your own slick and cum and other fluids, cupping them in your fingers.

Satoru’s eyes dilate, face blank with his staggered breath, as he watches you smear it all over the toy, particularly at the entrance. You squirt in a portion of the lubricant, too, reaching in and spreading it with your other hand. This should feel gross. This is super gross.

You’re so fucking wet. You could put even more on it. But something tells you Satoru would prefer that elsewhere.

“Come on, then. You bragged about it so much.” You look at him, eyes half-lidded, lips curled upwards as you loom over the fleshlight. “Show me the goods, alpha.”

With a fast breath he nearly rips his pants and boxers off, cock springing free of its confines and – oh. Oh. Yeah, you were definitely not getting that inside you tonight, not in any universe. But the thought of it makes your thighs clench reflexively.

It’s a pretty cock, too. All red and flushed, dripping and swollen at the tip. Long, unreasonably so, even with the heavy knot at the base. And this is before it’s expanded.

No wonder the toy’s so big.

You scoot back on the bed, legs spread wide, and you pat between them. Satoru’s taller than you, bigger than you, and you quickly realize this isn’t going to work with you sitting behind him, even if he wriggles happily when his chest presses to your back.

(You file this information to use against him one day, though. Satoru would probably melt if you let him be the little spoon.)

Spinning, you move so that you’re straddling his lap. Satoru seamlessly scoots back, giving you enough space to rest yourself on his thighs and trap his cock between the two of you.

You look at his (unfairly pretty) face. Back down at his dick. At his face again, where he’s smiling an awful, conspiratory sort of smile. All but vibrating with excitement.

When you spit on his dick he moans like he nearly is going to cum, and your cunt clenches at the sound. He wasn’t joking, was he?

Your hand darts down between your legs, and Satoru’s eyes darken at the sight, growling. The same hand quickly wraps around his cock, slick with your arousal. Satoru gives a shuddering gasp at the sensation, hips jerking into it. Everything he does has you getting wetter, it’s effortless for him.

And he knows it, too, smells it, because even while he’s catching his breath he gives you that terrible charming smirk that has you burning in the pit of your stomach. So annoying. Your hand tightens and he makes the most pitiful whimper.

You’re hit with the sudden and very real desire to take a bite out of him.

Pretty boy. Pretty boy, all for you, naked and bare in front of you, aching and whining for you to do with him as you please. You think you even see him drooling a little.

You take his lips instead, face tilted upwards as you press your mouth into his, like you can drink him up if you stick your tongue far enough into his mouth.

He’s sweet, because of course he is. A little strawberry, the faintest touch of alcohol.

Your teeth close on his lips, tender, soft, yielding. It’s so easy just to clench down, hard, while your hand pumps his cock some more, and it throbs, violently, as the taste of blood fills your mouth. He moans into it, tongue sliding, dancing against yours like he wants to lick you up.

He’s panting, still, when you pull away. Lips red and swollen and bleeding.

Satoru grins at you, bent over, eyes glittering. Wiping blood from the corner of his lovely mouth.

 It’s not enough to bite him. You want to devour him whole. You want him to be yours. You want to see him cum.

“Say my name.”

You hear it.

You fit the toy on top of him, and his hands dart towards you, grasp you with deceptive firmness, like you’re all that can anchor him. His nostrils flare as he slides into the toy lubed up with your own fluids, taking in the scent of you.

He’s probably smelling how wet you are. You slam it down, all the way to the knot, to wipe that stupid smirk on his face.

It works. Now his eyes are wide with shock, mouth gaping open, a noise like a squeak emerging from him as he squeezes his eyes tight, hips squirming uselessly to fit more of himself in.

Delight, wicked and thrilling, lances through your chest at the sight of him. Face flushed, eyes squeezing as he fights to keep them from closing, lips in a wide “O” like some kind of pornstar. God, he’s just too fucking hot.

Without thinking you bring your other hand to his lips, and Satoru closes his mouth around your wet fingers and moans. His half-shut eyes flutter at you, like he’s trying to tease you. Tongue threading between your fingers, cheeks going hollow as he sucks them clean.

His hips thrust up, eager, and he whimpers again. “Say it again.”

Your name, again, warbled around the fingers in his mouth as you twist the toy around him. You press it against his knot just for a moment.

“This is for me, you said?” You pull your fingers away, pull the toy up, and he whines at the absence, like the drama king he is, “You’re hard just for me? A beta?”

When he opens that unthinkably sexy, sultry mouth of his, you slam it back down again. It hits his knot and you bear down, “Ah – hahhh – ahhh~”, and god, your heart is racing and he’s only halfway in.

“Fuck,” He sobs, “Fuck, yes, please – ”

It’s hard to pull it up after that, his knot swelling and throbbing and Satoru squirming like some kind of desperate whore. Clawing at your shoulders as you pull the toy up again.

He keens when your hands leave him, only to brighten visibly as you tug your shirt and bra off. Oh, he’s lost all coherence but he can still cheerfully ogle you, huh?

One of his hands reaches for your breast, mindlessly squeezing. It’s so large he can hold it in his entire hand, and you watch his eyes dilate as he tries to buck up for more stimulation.

You reach back, pumping him again, and you keep pressing it down against his knot, shoving it a little further each time. His words are senseless, mumbles and mutterings, and his eyes don’t leave your body for a moment, like he’s drinking you in.

When you reach the widest part of his knot he actively wails, seizing you at the waist and digging his nails into you, and it burns like hot lines of pleasure over your skin. He’s shuddering now, all lean muscle and powerful form turned to a shivering mess before you, for you.

“Just a little more,” You breathe, “Almost there, baby. You’re gorgeous, so fucking beautiful,” a heavy SHOVE and Satoru cries out as his knot finally slips in.

The breath he lets out is pure relief and yearning tied in one. It’s harder to push down now with him lodged in it. His hands loosen around you, gaze going unfocused, and he mumbles something you can’t quite make out. His hands paw at you, like a blind man groping in the dark.

He’s really, really pretty like this. Needy, teary-eyed, desperate like a dog.

While you work the toy in short strokes, your other hand reaches up to his well sculpted chest, to the supple flesh of his pecs where you dig your nails into, just to hear him whine. To watch a streak of red mark where you draw your nails across him.

When you scratch across his nipple he whimpers again, hips shuddering so much it’s hard to keep the toy on him. His face flushes even harder, eyes trembling, grasping at you with quivering hands.

His abs, perfect like the rest of him, tighten, clenching up. His thighs clench up, too, and you see him actually thrust up into the toy, eyes wild with need. Satoru finally gets a grip on you, and he leans in, too, shoving his face into your neck.

It takes you a moment, pumping to toy to make sure he doesn’t lose his peak, for you to realize he’s smelling you. Taking long, deep breaths of your scent, shuddering like a man who’s found his paradise.

You lean your head to the side, just a little, just to meet his eyes. He looks up at you, he smells you; enraptured, delighted, desperately aroused by the sight of him.

“Say my name,” You beg him, “Satoru, say my – ”

He cums with a cry of it, a wail, and you realize what he’d been mumbling before. Shaking in your arms.

There’s something feral in your chest, something about him in this state that drives you absolutely mad. You keep pumping the toy, even just a little bit, hard friction against his swollen knot, the cum that must be hot and packed against him now.

He wheezes, delirious, and you think for a moment he sounds like a dog toy. You think you want to make him your dog toy. Squeaking while you squeeze him, with your hands, your mouth, your cunt.

He’s too pretty like this, too perfect. All yours, he’d said, and now he’s crying on your shoulders, shuddering with the strength of his climax.

“My alpha,” You coo, breathless, “Only for me.”

Satoru nods dumbly, pretty lips wedged apart, eyes bleary. Pressing a kiss to your neck, licking mindlessly at it. His skin is hot, like all the rest of him, flushed from his release.

You want to give him more. You want to mess him up. You want to fuck him up, take a bite out of him for everyone so everyone sees a piece missing, a piece that belongs only to you. You want to see him cry.

So you pull away to get a better look, but he clings to you. When you push him it feels like trying to tear your own heart out, so you let him kiss and suck against you until he’s kissing up to your lips.

Pretty white lashes fluttering while he nips at your lips, gentle as a kitten with tearstained cheeks.

Then he pulls back on his own and grins at you, so cocky you forget he cried at all.

The toy can’t come off him, locked where it is until the knot goes down, but that doesn’t seem to stop him in the slightest.

“I can smell you,” He pants, “I can smell it. You’re ready for me? Got so turned on by fucking me with that toy, huh?”

There’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile tracing at his lips, but you meet his gaze with your own fire. “So turned on. You looked so pathetic and pretty, whining and bucking into that toy like a desperate whore. If you’d moaned any sluttier, Satoru, I would have creamed my panties.”

His laugh is almost a howl, “Hahaha! Yeah! Just for you, baby.” He leans in to steal a kiss, “A slut for you. Let me show you just how slutty I can be, I can fuck you so so good baby.”

Your laugh is cut off by his fingers prodding at your mouth, “Spare some spit for your slut, yeah?”

The look you give him, like you’re telling him off while trying not to laugh, sends a shudder of emotion through him that you can’t identify.

You use the moment to open your mouth wide, letting your tongue loll out. Transfixed blue eyes follow your tongue dragging up his fingertips, how you drool on them, moving down and then drawing it up again to wet them.

Satoru makes a little noise and twitches and you know the toy has just milked another little squirt of cum out of him. Maybe knots are kinda cute.

And then he looks back into your eyes. Quick as a whip, closes his mouth around your fingertips, rolling his eyes back with an exaggerated moan, and he’s so fucking stupid and you’re so turned on you actually feel yourself throbbing. Your hands dart down to feel it.

Well, you’d known you were wet, but this was just embarrassing. Worse, since he could smell it.

 “I’ve got you. Let me have you, I’ve got you. Leave it to your alpha.”

“Really big words from a guy who was crying when I pumped him with a fleshlight.”

Satoru doesn’t balk, he only grins. With teeth. “You bet I did, baby. Fucked me so good,” he purrs, rubbing up against you again, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed once more, “And I got you all hot and bothered, didn’t I? So let me take care of that for you.”

God, he really knows no shame at all. No wonder he didn’t bother to smother his moans. He knew what they did to you. He always knew what he did to you.

Except, you suppose, with the pheromones that are telling you right now to lie down and let him eat you into oblivion.

Your fingers draw up to your clit, gently pulsing again at the hungry look he’s giving you.

He bats your hands away from your cunt, “I told you I’d take care of you. Spoil you so good. You’ll never touch what’s mine again.”

“What’s yours?”

“You are, baby, all of you. Shouldn’t touch my cunt unless I say you can, that’s my job. Don’t tell me you think I can’t make you feel good?” His eyes sparkle in challenge, teeth bared in a grin.

That’s like, an under-negotiated kink or something. He totally doesn’t own you. He definitely can’t tell you not to touch yourself.

God, it’s such a fucking turn on. Every word has your cunt throbbing harder. It’s probably just dirty talk. Right?

“What,” You drawl, but your breaths are getting shorter as his fingers find their way inside you again, “Can you take responsibility for that, huh, Satoru?”

“I’ve never wanted to take responsibility for anything more in my life.” His fingers delve deeper, thumb rubbing over your clit.

You choke out a laugh, legs quivering. “Not a high bar.”

“It’s okay,” He steals another kiss before he falls off the bed and onto his knees again for you, “I told you, I can do it. You don’t need to touch yourself ever again. I’ll do it all. You shouldn’t have to rely on anyone but your alpha.”

“Ah,” Fuck, you really can’t speak at all, but – but every word is turning you on more, pulsing, pulsing, blood flowing down to the throbbing mess between your legs, “Ah – f-fuck! You don’t mean that, Satoru.”

Another breath, and then you continue, “What, are you really going to drop everything just to – to get between my legs – whenever I want to cum?”

Satoru groans like a broken man. “Please.”

His thumb is replaced on your clit with his tongue, just the right heat and slickness you were craving. Every lap sends your tender nerve endings throbbing. Thighs shaking. Close now.

“If I – if I ever want to touch myself, I just call you, you’ll come racing? Make use of that pretty face – hng, whenever I want? If I ever want to shut you up, I just sneak my hands beneath my panties – ”

The sound that comes from him sounds like it could be a sob, his hands wrap around your legs, seizing them in place as he abandons everything that’s not sucking your soul out through your clit, and fuck, fuck, how is he so perfect at this –

It comes, knocking the breath out of you, leaving you gasping. The heavy tug between your legs finally overwhelming your senses until everything just feels so good.

You reach out, groping numbly until you feel his soft hair in your hands, no strength left to squeeze.

Heat rocks through you, racing up your spine, swelling and swelling until you’re just warm everywhere, limbs tingling with a pleasant, blissful sort of numbness.

A hand settles over yours, large, heavy, and unbearably tender.

Every breath is orgasmic on its own, air flowing through you, heat radiating outwards until you feel it dissipate away gently.

Satoru’s moved you, slid you to lay on the bed while he sits over you. You don’t know when he did that, didn’t feel it.

It doesn’t matter. His hand threads through yours, and you watch him raise it up to kiss it again, lashes fluttering, lips still wet with your cum. There’s this look on his face, reverent and desperate, like he still can’t believe he’s gotten this lucky.

Finally, you see the toy slipping off, and with it, a gush of cum, sticky and trailing from his wet, stinging cock. He hisses at the exposure to open air. You’d honestly just tell him to put it in you if you weren’t worried he’d knot you in his sleep.  

Satoru settles beside you, arms wrapped around your form, face buried in your neck.

“Love you.” You feel it more than you hear it, mouthed against your neck, “Love you so much.” A drop of wetness on your throat. “Love you, love you, love you… never leave me, please, never… love you so much.”

His fangs glance over your throat, where no mark they leave will ever stick.

Your heart spills out of your chest a little, through your mouth.

“I love you, Satoru,” You murmur, “I’m a beta, I can’t give you what an omega can, I…” Old wounds, all healed over and aching. “But I’ll give you what I can. If you want it.”

Arms squeezing you. His teeth turn into a kiss, up, up, up your jawline until he’s face to face with you.

“I want it,” He says, eyes shimmering as he leans in to claim your lips. “I’ll always want it. Always you.”

-

Hours ago

“So are you guy still friends?” Suguru asks, sipping his beer, “You were such a bitch about them in high school. I almost thought you wanted to date them, but with them being a beta and all…”

Satoru groans. “Don’t remind me. I mean, I get how I was in high school, but they liked you, didn’t they? So they’re definitely into alphas.”

“They were. Maybe we permanently turned them off,” he snickers, drawing another groan from Satoru, “What changed, anyways? Why do you want to get with them now?”

“I dunno, man.” Gojo sips at his drink. “It was like one day I was walking them to campus, and they were showing me this picture of a white cat with blue eyes. And they were smiling while they said It’s you, Satoru! and I was about to tell them to shut up but my chest just… exploded.”

“No way. That’s what got to you?” A smile plays on Suguru’s lips, “Do you still have the picture?”

 “Shut uuuup. Anyways, I thought about it later and I thought, I want to walk with them every morning for the rest of my life. I want to never go a day without talking to them, or hanging out with them. Want to crawl in their silly little beta brain and live there rent free for the rest of my days.”

Satoru never paid rent to live in anyone’s head, and he lived in everyone’s. “Who’s to say you don’t already?”

“Not like I want to. I want them to think about me all the time, like I think about them. I want them to feel like they’ll die if they don’t see me every day."

His eyes shine with something dark and blue. "I want them to be all mine and no one else’s. I want them to think of me whenever they want something, come to me for everything.”

It’s as good as a love confession, coming from an alpha. Satoru doesn’t have to say it – Suguru knows what it means.

“So… have you told them?”

He startles when Satoru bangs his head on the table. “I wish! It’s like there’s nothing I can do to get them to look at me!”

"So... you haven't said anything, and you're just complaining that they aren't throwing themselves into your arms?"

"Exactly!" Satoru huffs, "I can tell I've gotten to them a little recently, too! We spend like, every waking moment together, and they let me. Why won't they just ask me out already? It's been months, I don't want to spend another rut alone!"

That actually is impressive, coming from Satoru. Back in high school, he would never spend his rut alone, until he and Suguru got close.

Suguru’s chuckle is nothing short of sinister, “God, you’re such a whiny bitch. Can’t believe you didn’t present as an omega.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He snarls, taking another swig of his fruity cocktail. Suguru wonders idly if he knows how much alcohol is in that.

“Sometimes I honestly thought you liked them back in high school, you were so damn clingy all the time. Total omega behavior. I would scent them for five seconds and you’d throw a total fit.”

The glare, the sudden sharp spike of angry alpha pheromones catches Suguru off guard. “You didn’t mean it, though! They had feelings for you and you knew it, and you didn’t like them back! You think I’m just gonna let you fuck around with my friend like that?”

“Hey, hey,” He shakes his head, like that can get the scent out of his nose. “I would’ve dated them, you know, treated them nice. They were cool, I would have given it a shot with them even if they were a beta. But they were so worried about your feelings, they couldn’t even confess.”

“Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve,” Satoru mumbles into his fruity drink, slumping forwards. “They would always side with you in arguments, too.”

“That was because you were an idiot. Godzilla couldn’t take on an Evangelion in a fight and you know it.”

“Dude, the cable! Literally all he’d have to do is cut the cable! I said this a million times! They were crushing on you, that’s why they said you were right.” His nose crinkles in that unbearably cute way. “The fuck was so great about you anyways? I’m way prettier.”

That makes Suguru laugh out loud. Satoru would know. “I honestly couldn’t tell you, Satoru. You’re pretty even when you sulk.”

“Shut up, asshole. You didn’t deserve them, anyways.”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I guess I didn’t. You didn’t, either, in case you were wondering.”

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask.” Satoru sounds so pouty that he laughs again.

He gives Satoru’s shoulder a good-hearted slap, drawing out a growl from his friend. “We were a pair of fucking jerks back then, you know that. They should’ve ditched our dumb asses the week we presented.”

“You were a jerk. I never led them on, and it’s not like they noticed the scenting!”

“Heh. God, we got away with so much shit because they were a beta and didn’t know what was going on. Got into a pissing contest over a beta we didn’t even want to fuck.” Suguru sighs with a smile, leaning an arm on the bar. “I guess they were just that good of a friend, huh.”

Satoru bites his lip, resting his face on his crossed arms, laid over the table. “Yeah. The best. The one person I never wanted to lose, no matter what. I was so pissed off that you were stealing their attention when you didn’t even like them back.”

“Yeah. I know why you didn’t follow me when I left.”

Satoru snorts. “Don’t sound so morose. I was upfront with my plans from the beginning, you were the one who chose another path.”

“I thought we were friends, though?” A smile plays over Suguru’s lips. Nostalgic.

“So did they. You ditched them, too.” He glares at Suguru out of the corner of his eyes. “Sure, they were too cowardly to confess to you, but you could’ve said something. You never even told them you could smell it when you turned them on.”

“Ha! Neither did you.”

“Why the fuck would I? That shit pissed me off. You’re not that hot.”

Suguru grins at him, “I’m not? You know, I can smell it when you get hard, too – ”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“If it wasn’t for me, then it must have been for them.”

Surugu knows damn well how many times Satoru got a boner because of him. It gets Satoru all cute and irritable.

“Go fuck yourself, Suguru. You can change the subject all you want, but you still ditched both of us. You think I should’ve ditched them along with you?”

He looks down, at his almost-empty beer. “You think they wouldn’t have followed you, if you followed me?”

Neither of them says anything for a moment. Satoru takes one last drinkof his fruity cocktail. His cheeks are flushed a faint pink; painfully attractive, even now. Prettiest alpha he’d ever seen.

He can’t even deny you deserve an alpha like him.

Beautiful, confident, loyal Satoru, who adored Suguru all throughout high school, but wouldn’t leave you for him.

Satoru who cared way more about protecting your feelings than acting on his own. You who cared more about Satoru’s feelings than your crush.

That’s not the kind of friendship you can get just by being similar, by understanding each other. It’s something you raise by hand. Feed it, shelter it, tolerate it when it throws a fit. Learn with it, grow with it, care for it even when it’s shitty. There’s married couples who don’t try that hard.

If friendship is love, then you and Satoru had been in love for years, and Suguru was just the best friend.

“I texted them.” Satoru blurted out. “They’re picking me up tonight.”

“Oh?” Suguru gives him a sly glance. “You telling me after all these years, you’re finally going to shoot your damn shot?”

A scoff. “Nah. I mean – I told you. I really didn’t have that sort of feeling for them back then.”

“Oh, I know.” He rolls his eyes, “But I figured it was going to end like this when you didn’t follow me. If you weren’t willing to leave them for me, then who would you leave them for?”

“Cut the shit, Suguru. If you love someone you don’t make them choose. Whatever you felt for me, your plans for the future were more important than that.”

Suguru stares at his hands. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you?”

Satoru looks away.

They both know why he didn’t ask.

“Still… you’re not going to shoot your shot?”

The blush on Satoru’s cheeks seems a little redder.

His heart aches, because once upon a time, that look was for him. Little stolen moments in locker rooms or during movie nights. A ghost of a heart that was once his.

“I dunno, man. They’re a beta, and I think our bullshit from high school still has them kinda fucked up. Like, they probably think I’m only into omegas.”

Suguru snickers. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty fucking funny. You’ve crushed on everyone except omegas.”

“It’s not like that! You and them just happened to be an alpha and a beta!” Satoru’s words are impassioned – like they get when he’s tipsy, “I just – I just liked you. And now I just like them. Doesn’t matter what they are.”

Three years later, he finally has a confession. It’s a liked rather than like, but at least he’s got the words out of Satoru’s mouth.

You’ll get more than that, he knows. Satoru would move heaven and earth for you.

You’ll get a confession and more, a lot more than a few stolen kisses or heavy petting session here and there, as soon as Satoru’s finished being a huge pussy.

Suguru gets up, glancing at his friend slumped over the counter. Satoru is too busy groaning to see the wistful look on his face, but he does hear his parting words.

“Good luck, Satoru.”

-

You settle into his arms. Warm, fuzzy, sated. Satoru wraps his arms and legs around you like some kind of koala.

He nestles your head under his chin, pulling you tight against him so you can feel his purrs rumbling against you, light and soothing.

The air is full of contentment, the scent of an alpha pleased and purring, every breath warming you down to the bones – even if his body pressed against you does a good enough job of that.

“Mmm…” It’s hard to think, hard to form any words when all you want to do is relax into blissful slumber, “Satoru?”

Your answer is a squeeze, a moment of tightness that leaves you breathless, just for a little instant. No ability to move at all, and even less will to. You’d laugh, if you had the breath for it.

Instead, you hum, “You smell good.”

He purrs harder at that, happy pheromones, a compliment any alpha would be pleased with. Breathing deeply against you, like he wants to take you directly into his bloodstream.

And then, for a moment, he pauses.

“Oh… Hey,” Satoru asks lazily as he snuggles into you, “How did you know about the scarf and the sock?”

He’s going to remind you of how gross and needy he was while you’re all sticky and tired and stuck in bed with you? Typical Satoru.

“Mmmh.” It’s hard to talk, warm and cozy as you are, all nestled against him, “You reek. Probably because of your rut, too… could smell your cum a mile away.”

He hums in acceptance, and settles against you, ready to doze off.

For a moment, he’s silent, leaving the both of you to drift peacefully –

“EEEEHHH??”

MŌRI Baien（毛利梅園 Japanese 1798-1851）

from 梅園草木花譜夏之部    via     more

Nachash || jhs (Teaser II)

Release Date: Oct 31st Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Smut, One night stand, Angst, Horror AU, Incubus! Hoseok Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count Goal: 10k Summary: From the time she was born, Y/N knew what the expectations were. Her parents had made it clear: lawyer or doctor. She chose the latter. Now a medical student, Y/N’s life is seemingly on track. That is until she begins to have strange dreams about an unknown man. When she sees him during her night out with friends, she finds herself unable to keep her hands off of him. Warnings: Strong language, Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, Virgin!Reader, Inexperienced!Reader, Good girl reader, hard dom Hoseok, Hoseok is a menace, he’s also very sus, so much blood, choking, slapping, biting, spanking, suffocation, thigh riding, double and triple penetration, anal, use of sex toys, rimming, oral (m&f), face-fucking, unprotected sex (wrap it up), some non-con toward the end, POV switch, DARK ENDING, main character death (graphic), graphic violence, Read at your own risk

“Dirty martini for the lady,” I looked over at the mystery man.

My heart stopped. His face… My mouth dropped open at the sight of him. My dream man. He was sitting right in front of me. Every detail, every line and curve were the same. Even the mole on his lip was there. Just like Taehyung, it was hard to look at his face for too long. It was impossible to meet his gaze.

“You do like them dirty, right?” He grinned.

I could not respond for a few moments. The resemblance was uncanny. The anxiety Taehyung’s presence had given me was nothing compared to this. It left like an elephant had sat on my chest while every nerve in my body screamed at me to run. And just like Taehyung, I found myself unable to move. I found that, like before, I did not want to.

“How did you know that?” I asked, still in awe.

“I overheard you earlier. Was going to buy you one then but you left before I could.”

I swallowed my thickening saliva. It was hard to get down. Every part of me wanted to scream. My body begged to get away from him, but it also yearned to be near him. I was alight in every way possible, and the confusion was hard to wrap my head around. Do I stay or do I go? As if he could read my mind, the man reached out and ran a finger over the top of my hand. Electricity shot through my body, and it burned where he had touched.

“Have a drink with me.”

“Okay,” I whispered, hypnotized by his voice.

Taglist: To be added to the taglist, you can either message/ask me or go to the link in my bio and add yourself to the “Halloween 2022″ list!

reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

Well I'll be damned

HOW TO MANIPULATE WIN YOUR EX BACK 101 ~ by caleb

CW: 18+ (mdni), fem & non-hunter mc, delusional yandere!caleb, pet names (baby & pipsqueak), male & female masturbation (separate), piv (in caleb’s imagination) , praise kink, panty sniffing, voyeurism (?), stalking, manipulation, gaslighting, power dynamic. WC: 9.4k AN: finally posting this after a month! comments & reblogs are highly appreciated <3

Your relationship with Caleb was brief, just a few months, but it felt suffocatingly long. You had always valued your independence, the freedom to spread your wings and fly wherever you pleased. But with him? It was like having those wings clipped, held down by invisible strings of concern, control, and possessiveness disguised as love.

At first, it was subtly sweet. The way he always wanted to know where you were, checking in constantly like he cared a little too much. The way he insisted on picking you up from work, from dinners, from places you were perfectly capable of leaving on your own.

But then it escalated. 

Questions turned into interrogations. Concerns turned into restrictions. Suddenly, your phone buzzed with his messages every time you were out, and your decisions were met with disapproving looks and lectures disguised as "worry."

And it only got worse because you had no Evol, no abilities to shield you from danger, no built-in safeguard if something went wrong. To him, that made you vulnerable, fragile and in need of someone like him. But seriously though, you have managed just fine before he ever came into your life.

At first, you tolerated it, convincing yourself it was just his way of showing love. You dismissed it as a habit from his job as a colonel, structured, disciplined, and always anticipating worst-case scenarios. You told yourself it was normal, that some people love fiercely, protectively and maybe that’s true.  

But love shouldn’t feel like surveillance. It shouldn’t feel like being second-guessed at every turn, like justifying your choices to someone who sees your independence as a threat instead of a strength. It shouldn’t feel like ripping your wings, like trading your freedom for someone else’s comfort.  

And the moment you realized that? You knew it was over.

–

The phone buzzed in your hand, ‘Caleb ♡’ flashing across the screen for the fifth time in a row. You hesitated, exhaling slowly before finally answering.

“You’re still ignoring me?” His voice came through the speaker, tight with frustration. No hello. No softness.

You rolled your eyes, shifting the suitcase beside you. “I’m not ignoring you, Caleb. I’m busy packing.”

“For that trip,” he said flatly.

“Yes. For that trip.”

A tense silence stretched between you. Then, with a humourless laugh, he said, “So you’re really going through with this?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already exhausted. “Caleb, I’ve told you a hundred times—this is happening. It’s just me and the girls. It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is to me,” he snapped. “You’re leaving for an entire weekend, in Linkon City, with no one looking out for you. Do you know how dangerous that is? Especially with the Wanderers around.”

Your grip tightened on the phone. “Linkon City is perfectly safe, thanks to the Hunters, and I know how to take care of myself.”

“That’s not the point.” His voice dropped, low and insistent. “What if something happens to you? What if you need me and I’m not there?”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Caleb, something always ‘might’ happen. I could trip over my own feet walking down the street, and you’d still act like I need supervision.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you thinking my freedom is something you have a right to control.”

Another silence. You could almost picture him now, jaw clenched, hands running through his hair in frustration. But you were past the point of softening your words to ease his temper.

“I love you,” he finally said, voice quieter now. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart clenched, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “You already did.”

Caleb drew in a breath like he was about to argue, to find the right words to pull you back, but you didn’t give him the chance. You ended the call before he could even try, letting the silence speak for itself.

She’s gone…she actually just hung up on me. Just like that?

She thinks she’s done with me? Cute. Adorable, even. She’s just confused right now. A phase. A temporary lapse in judgment. I mean, we were practically perfect together—okay, maybe not perfect, but close enough. We had a good thing. I’ll give her a few weeks or months to stew over it. She’ll come back. She just doesn’t know it yet.

She needs “freedom”? Sure. Great. Go ahead and get your little “freedom,” pipsqueak. Go on your trip with the girls and post your little Instagram stories with your cocktails and your cheesy ‘healing’ captions. I’ll pretend like I’m not paying attention to the comments or checking who’s liking every picture.

But the second she realizes that no one out there will worship the ground she walks on like I do? The second she sees that no other guy will remember every little detail about her—how she likes her tea, how she hums that one song when she’s doing the dishes but refuses to admit it’s her favourite, how she’s got a million tabs open on her browser but never actually reads anything?

She’ll come running back.

She’ll remember how good we were together. How great we were.

I will wait for you when you are ready. 

– 

You felt… liberated, to say the least. A weekend away with your girlfriends was just what you needed. You spent hours catching up, sharing stories, and laughing—something you hadn't realized you’d missed so much. When you told them about your breakup with Caleb, they were surprised but not entirely shocked. They knew you valued your independence too much to settle for anything less than respect, and Caleb's overbearing nature had always been a point of concern for them.

The weekend unfolded in a blissful blur of indulgence and carefree moments. You enjoyed fancy dinners, basked under the sun at the beach, and dipped your feet into the pool while losing yourself in a book. You sipped on refreshing mocktails, took silly pictures, and felt the weight of stress melt away.

At the beach, you and your friends lounged on the warm sand, indulging in playful eye-candy scouting, and a man with dusky purple hair and striking bluish-pink eyes caught your attention. He looked almost unreal, like something pulled from the pages of a fairytale. Ethereal. Enchanting. If mermaids walked on land, you were certain they’d look just like him.

Unbeknownst to you, Caleb took matters into his own hands. While you were away, he broke into your apartment—too bad your security wasn’t up to par. That’s exactly why you needed someone like him, right? His eyes roamed your personal space like it was land he wasn’t prepared to lose. He set up cameras carefully, one in the living room, another in your bedroom, and even one in the bathroom. To Caleb, letting you slip away wasn’t an option.

He’d give you the space you demanded, sure, but only on his terms. In his mind, you were still his regardless of what you thought. He convinced himself that it was his right to keep watch and to ensure your safety, with or without your consent.

–

When you returned to Skyhaven, it hit you—reality, that is. Back to your job, back to your life, and Caleb…well, Caleb wasn’t part of that anymore. You have ended things. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. You had expected him to bombard you with texts, but surprisingly, your phone was quiet. Too quiet.

You even posted a picture of yourself in that dress—the one that hugged your figure just right, the colours bright against your skin and the way the hibiscus in your hair caught the light. You were proud of how you looked, but when you checked your notifications, there was no comment, no like from him. A little part of you felt a pang, but you shook it off.

What you didn’t know was that Caleb had seen the picture, and it consumed him. He was furious, very furious that you dared to wear something so revealing, something that might catch the eye of someone else, without him there. If you were going to wear something like that, it should’ve been with him by your side, where he could keep an eye on you. He would’ve let you wear it, after all, he could fight anyone who dared to look too long, but without him around? It made his blood boil.

And yet, despite the frustration, his body betrayed him. The second he saw that picture, he was already half-hard. God, you guys had never even fucked. You had called it “too soon” and had wanted to take things slow, and fine—he respected that. Somewhat. But damn, you had no idea how badly you messed with him, how pent-up he always was around you.

His fist clenched as he freed himself from his sweatpants, his cock already straining. One hand gripping his phone, the other wrapped around his length, stroking slowly as he imagined it was you—your soft hands and your cunt wrapped around him instead. 

His breathing turned ragged as the images flooded his mind. He pictured you beneath him, stretched wide with your voice trembling as you begged him to go slow, to be gentle. Fuck, he wanted to come, but the frustration twisted inside him, mixing with his hunger. He needed more. He needed you.

Tossing his phone aside, he got up and strode to his dresser, yanking open the drawer. And there it was, the hidden treasure—delicate and lace-trimmed, the soft fabric nestled right where he left it. Your panties.

 He may or may not have swiped them when he was setting up the cameras in your apartment, but did that matter? That’s the least you could do for breaking up with him over the phone.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply with his eyes fluttering shut. The scent was faint, just traces of laundry detergent and fabric softener, but he wanted more. He wanted them used, soaked in your scent, dripping in proof of how much you needed him. His fingers tightened around the fabric as he pumped his cock faster, lost in the thought of ruining you, marking you, making sure you never even considered leaving him again.

"Caleb!" Your voice cracked, high and desperate. His cock twitched at the sound.

He could almost feel it—the way your walls clenched around him, trying to force him out while greedily pulling him back in.

"St–stop!"

He chuckled darkly, leaning down, his breath hot against your ear. "Stop?" he echoed mockingly. His hand gripped your thigh, pressing your legs apart despite the way you trembled beneath him. "You’re squeezing me so tight, pips. You don’t really want me to stop, do you?"

Your nails dug into his shoulders, useless resistance. "N-no… but—"

“That’s right,” he growled, thrusting deeper, drinking in the way you choked on your own breath. "You take me so well. Like you were made for this. Made for me."

He imagined your head tilting back, lips trembling, and body writhing against the sheets, too fucked-out to fight him anymore. Your voice, once filled with hesitation, melted into helpless little whimpers.

"Too—too much, Caleb…"

“Too much?” He kissed down your throat, his teeth scraping against your pulse. "But pipsqueak, I’m just getting started."

His strokes quickened, both in reality and the vivid fantasy he was spiralling deeper into. The panties in his grasp crumpled under the force of his grip, his knuckles turning white as he pressed the fabric against his nose, desperate to drown in the ghost of your presence.

He could see it so clearly—you spreading out beneath him, legs trembling and tears glistening in your eyes. Wrecked. Shattered.

“That’s my girl. You don’t need to think, just feel. Let me take care of you.”

His hips jerked, pleasure coiling tight, winding dangerously. He imagined the final moment—your body arching, your lips parting in a silent scream as he claimed you.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as his release overtook him, thick ropes of white spilling over his abs and chest. His body shuddered, fingers twitching, and his breath was unsteady.

But as the high ebbed, a bitter frustration gnawed at him.

It wasn’t enough.

Because it wasn’t you. Not yet.

step 1: show her that youre a 'changed man'

‘coincidentally’ run into her

dress well (make sure she notices) 

speak softly

give her the puppy eyes, shes always been weak for that

ask her if she wanna be friends 

smile, but not too much

A few months had passed since the breakup. Life moved forward, as it always did. You missed him sometimes, small moments of nostalgia creeping in when you passed by places you once shared. But you reminded yourself why you left. Missing someone didn’t mean you belonged with them.

Caleb, however, never truly left.

He had been watching. Through the flickering screens in his dimly lit room, through the quiet hum of surveillance, he had memorised every part of your life. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear while reading, the way you curled up on the couch with your favourite mug. He studied your routine like a scripture.

And now, it was time.

He knew your new favourite café—how you liked to sit by the window, how you always ordered the same drink. So when he "accidentally" ran into you, it would feel natural.

A harmless coincidence.

"Wow, I wasn’t expecting to see you here… You look good."

Your head snapped up at the familiar voice. “Oh… hey.” Your fingers instinctively tightened around your cup before you forced yourself to relax, putting your phone down. The awkwardness between you was obvious.

He took a step closer, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket with a casual posture. “I wasn’t sure if I should say hi. I didn’t want to bother you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t the Caleb you remembered. He always carried himself with confidence, sometimes bordering on arrogance. But now… he seemed different. Softer.

“It’s fine,” you replied, clearing your throat. “It’s… been a while.”

“It has,” he agreed, the purple eyes you once adored scanned your face like he was memorising you all over again. “You look… happy.”

You shifted in your seat. “I am.”

A small, almost wistful smile tugged at his lips. “That’s good. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

The words landed heavily, leaving a strange warmth in your chest—guilt? Sadness? You weren’t sure.

Before you could respond, he gestured toward the chair across from you. “Do you mind if I sit? Just for a minute. I don’t want to make things weird, I just—” He exhaled softly, shaking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “I don’t know. Seeing you here gave me whiplash.”

The hesitation in his voice, the way he seemed almost vulnerable. It made it hard to say no.

“…Yeah, okay. Just for a minute.”

He sat down, hands clasped together on the table, eyes never leaving yours.

“So,” he started, offering a small smile, “tell me, what’s new?”

"Nothing much, just work and stuff," you said, offering a shrug as you took another sip from your coffee. You felt a little uncomfortable, but you didn’t want to make it obvious. He was just sitting there, quietly watching you, like he was soaking in every detail of your response.

“Ah, yeah, I get that. Work can really take over sometimes,” he replied, nodding sympathetically. “I’ve been keeping busy too. Just… trying to focus on myself, y’know?” 

You nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going. “That’s good. It’s important to focus on yourself.”

A quiet moment passed, and he cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking a lot about… things, y’know, since we last talked. I’ve had time to reflect, and I realised I probably could’ve done a lot better. With us.” His voice softened, almost vulnerable.

You felt a strange discomfort at his words, unsure how to respond. “I—I mean… we’re good now, right?” You paused, awkwardly fidgeting with the edge of your coffee cup. “It’s all in the past.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. There was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “Yeah, I know. I… I’ve been working on myself. I’ve changed, really. I just hope that…you’re doing okay.”

“I’m good. Really.” You forced a smile, trying to dismiss the flood of emotions that were slowly rising within you. “I’m happy. I’m in a good place.”

He nodded slowly, his lips curling into a small, almost bittersweet smile. “I’m glad. I just wanted you to know that I—” He paused, looking down at his hands, then back up at you. “I never stopped caring about you, y’know? I’ve always wanted what’s best for you.”

“Caleb…” you started, unsure how to respond, but your thoughts were jumbled. What was he saying? Was he genuinely apologising? 

“I know things ended badly, but I just… I wanted you to know that I’ve learned from all of it. From my mistakes. And I’m not asking for anything, but maybe, just maybe, we could start over as friends? Take things slow…?”

You bit your lip, feeling a sudden rush of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he had changed, but the other part of you… was still wary. You didn’t want to repeat past mistakes.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, glancing down at your cup, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s all of a—”

“Just think about it,” he interjected gently, his tone almost pleading. “I’m not asking for much, just… a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m different.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. For a moment, it felt like you were teetering on the edge of something you didn’t know if you were ready for. But Caleb, the version of him sitting across from you now, seemed almost like a stranger. Yet there was something familiar about his presence.

“I… I don’t know, Caleb,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need time.”

His face softened, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure as his words sank in. “Alright, I’ll think about it.”

Caleb let out a slow breath as if he had been holding it in, his lips curling into the softest smile. But it wasn’t just the smile—it was the way his eyes rounded slightly, a flicker of vulnerability creeping into his usually confident gaze.

“Really?” His voice was just a little too hopeful, like he wasn’t expecting you to even consider it. “You’ll think about it?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like the bad guy for making him wait. “I didn’t say yes,” you reminded him quickly, gripping your cup a little tighter. “I just… need time like I said.”

He nodded eagerly, that soft, almost puppy-like expression still in place. “Of course. I get it. Take all the time you need.” His fingers tapped lightly against the table before he let out a breathy chuckle. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

And just like that, the tension in your chest eased—only slightly, but enough to make you feel like maybe, maybe you had been too hard on him.

Caleb watched as you hesitated, the smallest flicker of indecision in your eyes. It was barely there, but he caught it, and inside, he was grinning. You were already bending, already second-guessing.

He pushed back his chair, standing with an effortless grace. “I should probably get going,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I didn’t mean to take up so much of your evening.”

You blinked. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”

He hesitated for just a second longer, then flashed you one last smile—the perfect mix of warmth and quiet longing. “I’ll be around,” he said, his voice soft, before making his way to the door.

As he stepped outside, the cool night air hitting his skin, he let his expression shift. His smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, triumphant. You had no idea, did you?

His plan was falling into place perfectly.

Step 1: Successful.

step 2: make her doubt herself and weaken her boundaries

highlight her ‘flaws’ even though shes already perfect

emphasise her independence a lot

buy wine and cook sweet and sour chicken with rice

stock up on apples

After the unexpected run-in with Caleb, you didn’t expect things to go anywhere, at least not like this. But somehow, things started feeling easy again between you two, like the months apart had melted away in the span of a few casual conversations. He always had that ability, didn’t he? He made everything feel natural and effortless, even though you knew it shouldn’t.

It was part of his charm, after all—the reason you’d fallen for him in the first place.

The invitation was where it all started. 

“You have to let me cook for you,” he insisted, flashing that easy grin. “You always loved my cooking. Just one meal, no pressure.”

And somehow, you found yourself here again.

His penthouse hadn’t changed at all since the last time you were here—same sleek, modern design, the ambient lighting casting a soft glow over the dark furniture. The air smelled warm and familiar, a mix of spices and something distinctly Caleb. You sat at the dining table, watching him move around the kitchen like a busy housewife. The soft sizzle of sweet and sour chicken filled the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly steamed rice.

He plated the food with the same care he always did, setting it in front of you before finally taking a seat beside you instead of across from you like he used to. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Go on,” he urged, nudging your spoon toward you.

You picked it up hesitantly and took a bite. The flavours burst on your tongue—sweet, tangy, and perfectly balanced. It reminded you of nights when this used to be normal. When Caleb would cook, you’d sit beside him, talking about everything and nothing.

“Still the best cook I know,” you admitted, offering a small smile.

He chuckled, nudging his knee against yours under the table. “I’ll take that as the highest compliment.”

He took a bite of his own, watching you carefully as you ate. Then, after a pause, his expression softened.

“You look tired.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He gestured subtly toward you. “Your eyes. A little duller than usual. And you’ve been rubbing your temples since you got here.”

You forced a laugh, setting your spoon down. “I guess I’ve been busy.”

He hummed, swirling his drink in his hand. “You always push yourself too hard. You used to do the same thing when we were together, remember?”

You tensed slightly. “I’ll manage.”

“I know you will,” he said smoothly. “You always do. But that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

You frowned, slightly offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to something softer—something that felt too close, too knowing. “You never let yourself slow down. Even when you’re exhausted, you just push through it.” He shook his head, smiling faintly. “You used to get those headaches from working too much, and you’d act like it was nothing until I made you stop and rest.”

Your fingers curled slightly against the table.

“I used to love that about you,” he continued, voice warm, laced with nostalgia. “How stubborn you are. How much you take on without ever asking for help.”

“I don’t need help,” you said, a little too quickly.

His lips barely twitched, as if he’d expected that answer. “I know.” He leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his drink. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

The warmth of the room suddenly felt heavier.

You forced another small laugh, reaching for your glass. “I’m fine, Caleb.”

He smiled, but there was something knowing in his eyes. “Of course.”

The conversation drifted to safer topics after that, but the weight of his words lingered. By the time you set your spoon down, you couldn’t shake the strange unease settling in your chest.

Maybe you were pushing yourself too hard. Maybe you weren’t as fine as you thought.

Maybe… Caleb wasn’t wrong.

He didn’t miss the way your spoon hovered slightly above your plate, how your eyes drifted just a little too long, lost in thought. The confident ease you had when you first arrived had faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

You were thinking about what he said.

A quiet satisfaction curled in his chest, but he didn’t press. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, nudging your knee again. “I didn’t mean to kill the mood,” he said lightly. “You got really quiet on me.”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. “Oh—sorry. I was just…thinking, I guess.”

His lips twitched. Perfect.

He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin against his hand. “Heavy thoughts?”

You hesitated, then shrugged, forcing a small smile. “Maybe…I have been overworking myself a little.”

That was all he needed.

His expression softened, the perfect mix of concern and understanding. “See? That’s all I meant. I worry that’s all.” He exhaled, leaning back slightly. “You give so much of yourself to everything you do, but who’s making sure you don’t burn out?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You had friends, of course. People who cared. But… no one really checked in on you like that. Not in the way Caleb always had.

You shook your head as if physically trying to push the thought away. “I’ll manage,” you repeated.

Caleb let a small, knowing smile creep onto his lips before setting his drink down. 

Not for long.

A beat of silence settled before he suddenly stood, stretching slightly. “Why don’t I cut us some apples?” he said, already moving toward the kitchen. “I bought some fresh ones this morning. You’ll love them.”

You blinked at the sudden shift in topic. “Oh—um, you don’t have to.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “I want to.” His lips curved as he reached for a knife. “Besides, they say an apple a day keeps the doctor away, right?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re such a goof.”

Caleb smirked but didn’t respond as he started slicing. The rhythmic thunk of the blade against the cutting board filled the space, and you watched as he didn’t just cut the apples into simple wedges, he carved them into small bunny shapes.

Your brows lifted. “Are you seriously making bunny apples right now?”

He smirked, carefully peeling back the “ears” of one of the slices. “Obviously. What, you think I’d just give you a boring apple slice?”

You leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite yourself. “Since when do you know how to do that?”

Caleb shot you a knowing look as he set another bunny slice onto the plate. “I have my secrets.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He chuckled, finally returning to his seat beside you with the plate, setting it down between you both. The little apple bunnies were lined up neatly, their tiny “ears” perked up as if they were waiting to be eaten.

You stared at them, then at him. “I hate that this is actually kinda impressive.”

He grinned, picking one up for himself. “I accept your reluctant admiration.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you picked up an apple bunny and took a bite. It was crisp, sweet, and frustratingly perfect.

“See?” Caleb murmured, watching you with quiet satisfaction. “Worth the effort, right?”

You swallowed, shaking your head. “You’re so weird.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, nudging his knee against yours again. “Still eating my expertly crafted bunny apples.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. The playful exchange had lightened the air between you, momentarily softening your earlier hesitations.

And Caleb, watching the way your guard lowered just a little more, couldn’t help but smile.

Step 2? Already working.

step 3: make her depend on you

catch her lacking

secretly send the gym voucher in her mail

act natural 

comfort her when she vents

touch her and stay close to her 

It had been a week since Caleb’s words lodged themselves in your mind like an unwelcome guest. You give so much and don’t feel appreciated enough. You had brushed it off at the time, but the thought had lingered, creeping back in at moments you least expected.

That was probably why you were here now, in a gym of all places, desperate to burn off the frustration bubbling inside you, to drown out the noise in your head while your feet pounded against the treadmill.

Still, the fact that you ended up here felt like a weird coincidence. A few days ago, you received a gym voucher in the mail—an exclusive trial membership with an almost suspiciously good discount. You weren’t even sure how it ended up in your mailbox. You had never been the gym type, and you certainly hadn’t signed up for anything like this. But it was affordable, and after the week you had, it felt like a sign from the universe. (It wasn’t. It was Caleb)

Work had been exhausting. Again. Your boss barely acknowledged your input, and one particular smug bastard had conveniently taken full credit for your idea, flashing that self-satisfied grin like he’d done all the work.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. Your fingers hovered over the treadmill’s controls before you cranked up the speed. If only you could just run him over with a car and—

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

The familiar voice cut through the gym’s ambient noise, and for a second, your fingers twitched against the treadmill’s handles.

You turned your head, already bracing yourself and oh my god.

Caleb stood beside you, effortlessly leaning against the treadmill next to yours, a towel slung lazily around his neck, a water bottle in one hand. The athletic shorts highlighted the muscles in his legs, and his white workout shirt clung to his chest in a way that made you way too aware of how well he filled it out. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin told you he had been here for a while.

You forced yourself to look away. “Yeah, well… needed to clear my head.” You coughed, willing your pulse to settle.

He raised an eyebrow as he stepped onto the treadmill beside you, setting his pace to a casual jog. “Didn’t realize you went to the gym.”

You let out a short breath, still jogging. “Is that an insult?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Not at all. Just… surprised.” His eyes flicked toward your treadmill screen, tracking your speed. “Didn’t peg you as the intense type.”

You scoffed, wiping a stray strand of hair from your face. “Well, maybe you’re not the only one who’s changed.”

He hummed, his expression unreadable. “Maybe.”

He didn’t need to say more. The seed was already planted.

Caleb kept pace beside you, his breathing even and movements effortless. It was infuriating how easily he made it look like he wasn’t even trying. Meanwhile, you were actively fighting the urge to focus on the burning in your legs, determined not to let him see you struggle.

“So,” he started, voice smooth and casual, “bad day at work?”

You exhaled sharply. “Something like that.”

“Let me guess,” he mused, glancing at you. “Your boss ignored your input again, and some asshole took credit for your idea?”

Your steps faltered just slightly before you caught yourself. “How—”

Caleb let out a chuckle. “You always get this look when you’re pissed about work. It’s subtle, but I’ve seen it before.”

You frowned, not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. “Right. Forgot you were a human lie detector or whatever.”

“Not a lie detector,” he corrected, his smirk deepening. “Just really good at reading you.”

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong. Caleb had always known how to read you, sometimes even before you could fully process your own emotions. He had a way of catching onto things, of noticing the smallest shifts in your mood. It used to be comforting. Now, it felt a little dangerous.

You swallowed, fixing your gaze ahead. “Well, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Of course,” he said easily. “You’re strong. Always have been.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, throwing off your rhythm for half a second. You recovered quickly, but not before Caleb noticed.

His smirk softened. “But even strong people get tired.”

Your grip tightened on the treadmill handles. Damn it. You hated how easily his words seeped under your skin, how they poked at the very thing you’d been trying to suppress all day.

“So what?” you said, forcing a lightness into your tone. “You think I need a pep talk?”

Caleb’s eyes never left you. “I think you need a reminder that you don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

Your breath hitched. 

For a moment, you didn’t respond, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of your feet against the treadmill. It was easier than acknowledging the warmth creeping up your spine, the way his words sat heavy in your chest.

This was exactly what you didn’t need.

The problem with Caleb was that he made things sound so simple. He made it so easy to forget why you left, why you needed space. He said the right things, knew which buttons to press, and worst of all, he still made you feel.

And that? That was a risk you weren’t sure you could afford.

You let out a breath, slowing your pace slightly. “Well, thanks for the unsolicited wisdom, Dr. Phil.”

Caleb chuckled, shaking his head. “Anytime.”

A silence settled between you, not quite uncomfortable but charged with something you refuse to acknowledge.

Caleb then stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. “Y’know, since you’re new here, I could show you around. Make sure you don’t, I don’t know, drop a weight on your foot or something.”

You shot him a dry look. “Wow, so much faith in me.”

“Just looking out for you,” he said, that damn smirk back in place. “Like I always have.”

And there it was again—that reminder. That thread of familiarity, of us, woven so seamlessly into his words.

You hesitated. Just for a second.

And Caleb saw it, felt it.

He wasn’t in a rush. This was all part of the game.

So when you finally sighed and mumbled, “Fine. But no unsolicited advice,” he just grinned.

Step 3 was right on track.

– 

You come back from the gym feeling drained and your muscles aching. Caleb had taken it upon himself to train you after the tour, just the basics, he said, nothing too serious, he said. But the way his hands lingered, the way his voice dropped lower every time he corrected your form, sent a slow-burning heat through you that had nothing to do with exercise.

"You’re tensing up too much. Relax…there you go."

You dragged a hand through your hair, exhaling. It was just adrenaline. 

But when you closed your eyes, all you could think about was the way his fingers skimmed your sides, the quiet hum of his approval when you finally got the movement right. The way his eyes had looked at you.

"Good girl. Just like that."

Fuck it.

Now, alone in your bedroom, you collapsed onto your bed, chest rising and falling, but the tension in your body hadn’t faded. If anything, it had settled deep, persistent, and impossible to ignore.

You dragged your gym shirt over your head, tossing it aside, but the heat clinging to your skin didn’t dissipate. Your body still burned with something you refused to name, something that pulsed between your thighs with every replayed memory of his touch.

Your hand trailed up, fingers skimming over your sports bra and squeezing the swell of your breast. A small sigh escaped you as your other hand slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. The moment your fingers brushed against your clit, a soft gasp left your lips.

Your body was already so sensitive, so needy, and the more you teased yourself, the worse it got. Every stroke sent another wave of heat pooling in your belly, and in your mind, it wasn’t your own fingers—it was his.

You could almost hear him. That low, amused chuckle, the way his breath would fan against your ear as he murmured, "Look at you, already so desperate for me."

You kicked off your shorts and underwear, your movements impatient, your body aching for more. Reaching for a pillow, you slid it between your thighs, pressing down as you began to move, grinding against it, and each roll of your hips sending sharp pleasure through you.

Your back arched as you picked up the pace, riding the pillow as if it were his cock, panting softly as you clutched at your breasts, pinching your nipples. Your mind painted the image so vividly, Caleb beneath you, his hands gripping your hips, watching you fall apart on top of him.

"That’s it, baby. Just like that."

A needy whimper escaped your lips as you buried your face into the sheets, fingers tugging at your hardened nipples, pretending it was his mouth teasing you, his tongue flicking and sucking until you were squirming.

Meanwhile, across Skyhaven.

Caleb ran a towel through his damp hair as he stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling around him. The gym session had gone even better than he planned. He could see it, the way your breath hitched, the way your body tensed under his hands. You were already slipping, already wavering. He also made a mental note about that bastard at your workplace, promising himself he’d handle him soon. But for now, he needed to clear his head.

With a sigh, he tossed the towel over his shoulder, water droplets rolling down his chest as he made his way through the penthouse. He hadn’t even planned on stopping by his office, just a quick glance at the screens, a habit more than anything.

But then he saw it.

His feet stilled at the doorway, his gaze locking onto the upper-right monitor. His office, lined with walls of screens, glowed softly in the dim lighting. Each feed displayed different angles of your apartment, and on one particular screen made his breath hitch.

There you were, back in your bedroom, stripped down, thighs straddling a pillow as you rocked against it, your brows furrowed in desperate pleasure.

Caleb's grip on the towel tightened, his body instantly reacting.

"Caleb…"

His restraint snapped.

His hand palmed over the towel, groaning low in his throat. Fuck. You were thinking about him. Even when he wasn’t touching you, even when he was taking his time, you still belonged to him.

Looks like he could skip Step 4. It was time for the final move.

final step: coaxing her back

You wanted to slap yourself. Who in their right mind gets off thinking about their ex?

Yet, no matter how much you tried to push the thought away, Caleb had begun to crawl into every corner of your mind. It was like a spell had been cast, wrapping around you and pulling you under.

The night had started with rain, thick sheets of it pouring down as you walked home, the soft patter against your umbrella the only sound accompanying you. You kicked at the puddles absently, trying to focus on anything other than the memories clawing their way back to the surface.

Then, headlights cut through the downpour. A sleek black Lamborghini Lanzador slowed beside you, its engine a deep and familiar purr. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Caleb behind the wheel—one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting against his temple as he watched you with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“You seriously weren’t going to call me for a ride?” His voice was warm and teasing.

You hesitated. “I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think,” he echoed, shaking his head before unlocking the door. “Get in before you drown, pipsqueak.”

You scowled, shutting your umbrella with a sharp snap before getting in. “I hate it when you call me that.”

He only smirked.

The door clicked shut behind you, and before you even finished buckling your seatbelt, Caleb pulled back onto the road. The rain drummed softly against the windows, the warmth inside the car doing little to ease the tension winding tight in your chest.

“Seriously, stop calling me that,” you muttered, arms crossed.

Caleb glanced at you, the corners of his lips twitching. “What? Pipsqueak?”

Your jaw clenched. “Yes, that.”

He chuckled, effortlessly changing gears. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because it’s condescending,” you shot back. “Like I’m some kid.”

He smirked. “I don’t think you’re a kid.”

“Then why do you insist on calling me that?”

“Because it gets under your skin,” he admitted without hesitation. “And because you make the cutest face when you’re annoyed.”

You glared. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but… you had nothing. He wasn’t wrong. You were here. Despite every reason you had to keep your distance, despite all the time and space and unspoken things lingering between you, you still got into his car.

Caleb must have sensed the shift in your silence because his smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, something almost hesitant.

“I mean it, though,” he said, his voice softer. “I don’t call you that to belittle you.”

You turned your head, studying his face, searching for the usual mischief—but there was none.

“Then why?” you asked, wary.

His fingers tightened briefly around the steering wheel before he exhaled. “Because it reminds me of before.”

Your stomach twisted.

Before.

Your frustration boiled over, heat rising to your cheeks. Without thinking, you reached for the door handle, fingers wrapping around it with the full intention of getting out—moving car be damned.

Caleb’s sharp gaze flicked to you instantly. “Don’t even think about it.”

You shot him a look, jaw tight. “Then stop the car.”

He didn’t. Instead, he pressed a button on the console, and with a soft click, the doors locked. 

You froze, snapping your head toward him. “Are you serious?”

He exhaled through his nose, eyes back on the road. “Dead serious.”

Your jaw clenched. “Let me out.”

“Not when we’re going 60 on a wet road.”

You huffed, shifting in your seat, nails digging into your palms. “Unbelievable.”

Caleb sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence.

Then, instead of pulling up to your place, Caleb eased the car to a stop in front of a café. You blinked, frowning as you looked out the window. The familiar glow of the storefront sign illuminated the street, reflecting off the slick pavement.

Your fingers tightened around the door handle before you turned to him.

“Why are we here?”

Caleb leaned back, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “What do you mean?”

You shot him a look. “You picked me up in the rain. I thought you were taking me home.”

His smirk returned. “I was. Then I figured we could use a detour.”

“A detour?” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Caleb, it’s late. And I’m tired.”

His smirk didn’t waver, but something softened in his gaze. “I know. But it’s been a while since we did this.”

You hesitated. The café was familiar—your spot, our spot, once. You hadn’t been back since everything ended.

“You could’ve just taken me home,” you murmured.

“I could have,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But you would’ve shut the door in my face the second we got there.”

Your jaw tightened. “…You don’t know that.”

He arched his brow. “I do.”

You wanted to argue. You really did. But the truth of it settled uncomfortably in your chest. He did know you. Even after everything. And worse, you knew he was probably right.

Caleb studied you for a beat before his expression softened further. “The coffee’s on me,” he added lightly. “You can even get any pastry you like.”

The rain had softened to a steady drizzle by the time Caleb shut off the engine.

You stared at the café through the windshield, its warm glow spilling onto the wet pavement.

This was a mistake.

You should’ve said no. Should’ve insisted he take you home, unbuckled your seatbelt, and walked away without looking back.

Yet, you sat there, gripping your sleeve, hesitating.

Caleb sighed, then suddenly leaned over, reaching past you.

You tensed. “What are you—”

The click of your door unlocking cut you off, and before you could react, Caleb was stepping out into the rain. Your brows furrowed. Was he just going to walk around and open the door for you?

But then he lifted his hand.

The air around you shifted, and a barely visible barrier shimmered to life above the car. The rain that had been pouring relentlessly now slid off an invisible shield, leaving you completely untouched.

You blinked before scoffing. “Must be nice having an Evol.”

Caleb smirked, opening your door. “Jealous?”

“A little,” you admitted, stepping out carefully, the space between you suddenly feeling too small. “Would’ve saved me from carrying an umbrella everywhere.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Or from getting caught in the rain in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t comment. The sidewalk was slick, puddles reflecting the glow of streetlights. The air smelled like damp pavement and coffee, the warmth of the café just a few steps away.

When you guys reached the entrance, Caleb lowered his hand, and the shield dissolved like it had never been there. He pulled open the door and gestured for you to step inside.

You hesitated for only a second before walking past him, the scent of coffee and nostalgia wrapping around you like a ghost.

 “Guess not much has changed.”

Your throat tightened. “No.”

The barista, Lily, behind the counter, looked up, recognition flashing across her face. She hadn’t seen you in months—not since everything ended—but she still remembered.

“Hey,” she greeted with a small smile. “It’s been a while.”

Caleb smirked. “Yeah. Thought I’d bring her back.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist, but you ignored it, turning your attention to the menu overhead, as if you didn’t already know what you wanted.

Caleb leaned in slightly. “Still take it the same way?”

You shot him a look. “Why do you care?”

His lips twitched. “Humor me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah.”

Caleb turned to the barista. “Two of those, and she’ll also take…” He looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “A blueberry scone.”

He smirked. “She’ll take a blueberry scone.”

The barista rang up the order, and before you could reach for your wallet, Caleb was already sliding his card into the reader.

You narrowed your eyes. “I could’ve paid.”

“I know.” He grabbed the receipt. “But I said it was on me.”

You huffed but didn’t push further, taking the coffee when he handed it to you.

The café wasn’t crowded, just a few people scattered at tables, lost in their own conversations. It would’ve been so easy to pretend this was just another night, just another casual outing—

But it wasn’t.

Caleb nudged your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. “Come on.”

He led you to a table in the corner. Your table.

The moment you sat down, an uneasy weight settled in your chest. You traced the rim of your coffee cup, the steam curling between you. Across from you, Caleb leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lazily against the table.

“You’re quiet,” he noted.

You met his gaze. “I have nothing to say.”

His lips twitched. “That’s a first.”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth ground you. But it didn’t stop the thoughts circling your mind.

Why did he bring you here?

Why now?

Why does it still feel easy with him?

“You’re thinking too much.”

Your fingers stilled around your coffee cup. “And you’re still assuming you know what I’m thinking.”

He smirked. “I don’t assume. I know.”

You scoffed, leaning back against your chair. “Enlighten me, then.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you the way he always had—like he was peeling back layers, reading between every breath, every hesitation. “You’re trying to figure out why we’re here. Why I didn’t just take you home.”

Your grip on the cup tightened.

Caleb took a sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You exhaled sharply, placing your cup down a little too firmly. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Sit there all smug like you still know me.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Do I not?”

You hesitated.

He was baiting you, as he always did. And the worst part? He was right. He did know you. Knew you well enough to bring you here, to order your drink exactly the way you liked it, to pick up on your hesitation before you even voiced it.

And yet, that only frustrated you more.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “You should’ve just taken me home.”

Caleb hummed, taking another sip of his coffee before setting it down. “I know.” He leaned back, eyes never leaving yours. “But I wanted to talk to you first.”

Your stomach twisted.

There it was.

The thing you had been waiting for—the reason you were here.

You swallowed. “About what?”

His gaze softened just slightly, the amusement in his eyes giving way to something quieter.

“You.” His voice was steady, deliberate. “Me.”

Your fingers curled around your cup. Careful.

Caleb didn’t look away. “Whatever this is—whatever it’s always been.”

Your breath hitched. You let out a quiet scoff, breaking eye contact. “There’s nothing anymore.”

He was silent for a moment, just watching you. Then, as if weighing his words, he exhaled. “Do you really believe that?”

You didn’t answer right away.

“I have to,” you finally said, voice quieter now.

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “Then why are you here?”

You stiffened. “You brought me here.”

He shook his head once. “You could’ve said no.”

Your gaze snapped to his. “You make it sound like I had a choice.”

His lips curved slightly, though there was no amusement behind them. “You always have a choice.”

The weight of his words settled between you, thick and suffocating. The café buzzed with quiet chatter around you, but none of it reached your ears.

Finally, you inhaled sharply. “What do you want from me, Caleb?”

His fingers tapped absently against his cup as if considering his answer. But when he finally spoke, it was quiet. Certain.

“I want you to come back.”

Your breath stalled.

A dry laugh escaped you. “Back? Back to what, exactly?”

He didn’t hesitate. “To me.”

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “You can’t just say that like it’s simple.”

“I never said it was simple,” he admitted. “But it’s the truth.”

You looked away, pulse hammering in your throat. “It’s too late.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Is it?”

You hated the way he said it—like he already knew the answer. Like he could see right through every flimsy excuse you were trying to hold onto.

Your fingers tightened around your cup. “You don’t get to show up and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

His voice was steady. “That’s not what I expect.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Then what do you expect?”

A pause.

“I expect you to be honest with yourself.”

You hated the way your stomach twisted at his words. The way something deep inside you lurched forward despite every wall you had built.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “This is a mistake.”

Caleb held your gaze. “Maybe. But it’s ours to make.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel it—the pull, the weight of something inevitable pressing down on you. Every logical part of you screamed to shut this down.

But it was already too late, wasn’t it?

Your grip on the cup loosened, your resolve crumbling piece by piece. Then, finally, exhaustedly, you sighed.

“…Fine.”

Caleb didn’t rush it.

He let the silence settle, let the weight of your surrender sink in. The moment you said “Fine,” he knew it was over—you had already lost, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

Leaning back in his chair, he took his time, watching you with that same knowing look, fingers drumming lazily against his coffee cup. You were trying so hard to act unaffected, eyes locked on the table, but your grip on the ceramic was tense.

You were waiting—for what, exactly? The regret? The anger? The second thoughts?

None of it came.

Caleb exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. You always made this harder than it needed to be.

Without another word, he pushed back his chair, the legs scraping softly against the floor. Your shoulders tensed as he stood, rounding the table with slow, deliberate steps.

Not stopping. Not hesitating.

He moved in, closing the space between you, his presence overwhelming as he braced one hand on the back of your chair, the other resting against the table. His body caged you in, shielding you from the rest of the café, from the world beyond this moment.

You sucked in a sharp breath.

Trapped.

His scent washed over you, pulling you under like a riptide. The heat of him, the sheer certainty in his movements, sent your pulse into chaos.

“Say it again,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“That you’re staying.”

You swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at you to push him away. To fight.

But you didn’t.

Your lips parted, barely forming his name. “Caleb—”

That was all he needed.

His fingers brushed along your jaw before tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch was slow and deliberate, but there was nothing soft about it. His grip was firm, possessive.

Like he was claiming you.

“You don’t regret this,” he murmured, the words barely a whisper, right before his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful.

It was deep, demanding—a possession.

Caleb kissed you like he was proving something, like he was erasing every ounce of distance you had tried to put between you. His lips moved against yours with precision, drawing you in and breaking down every last barrier you had left.

Then his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing, teasing, taking.

The taste of coffee and something purely him flooded your senses, dizzying and intoxicating. He was relentless, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, drawing out a soft gasp that he swallowed like he owned it.

His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you feel it to remind you that there was no escaping this, no running from him or this pull.

And you—God, you kissed him back.

It was your undoing.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, gripping it tight, like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. His other hand slid to the nape of your neck, holding you there, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

The café, the hushed conversations, the rest of the world—gone.

There was no fight left in you. No walls.

Only him. Only Caleb.

When he finally pulled back, lips barely brushing against yours, his breath was uneven, his voice thick with something raw, unspoken.

“Knew you wouldn’t leave.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, lips parted, breath stolen.

And then he saw it.

That flicker in your expression—not defiance, not reluctance.

Surrender.

Your grip on his hoodie loosened slightly, but you didn’t push him away. Your lashes fluttered, your gaze flickering to his lips for just a second too long, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

Caleb’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. His thumb traced along your jaw, a silent I won.

Because he had.

Checkmate.