ゆめ🌫

Night shift wasn’t a place for the weak. 

Despite how insufferably tender most of the shift was, their kindness wasn’t a product of their environment. It was simply a testament to how well they could hold their heads on straight. The people never got nicer, the cases never got tamer, but they kept each other standing through conditions most would buckle under. 

And an infinitesimally small part of you ached to join that solidarity. 

It only made itself apparent when you watched. When you saw them band together on a particularly rough shift, or the steady hands on tense shoulders, the jokes, the shared coffee. 

It was kinship. A type of bond you purposefully refused indulgence in. 

They’d invited you many times, asking you to join on off-day barhops, or checking in when your steps were too fast through the hallways. 

It was rather easy for the rest of them to take a hint. The cold dismissals or indifferent responses you gave at their questions left little room for interpretation. You never asked after them, even when you knew they needed it. 

You weren’t warm. You weren’t friendly. You were an exceptional doctor and a tolerable teammate and that was enough for everyone. They knew if you were requested, you’d show up and you’d solve. And that was where your hospitality ended. 

The only good-natured boot that you could never quite force off your throat was Jack’s.

Enhanced Genome Activity Disorder hardly affected anyone anymore. After the war had ended, numbers plummeted as the mutation died off, became recessive. Jack was one of the only names in the medical field who had presented. The only one in the hospital, too. 

Until you were hired. 

The hormonal fluxes, the strength, the senses, they all posed possible issues unless disclosed. Every individual with EGAD had their status collectively shared, marked, and accommodated if needed. People looked at him like he’d hung the stars. The father-figure attending who spoke to all with a soft voice and stupid jokes. He was the poster boy for teamwork, and nobody had been alarmed when learning he was affected, that he was an alpha. 

The Alpha, Beta, Omega sub-divisions shouldn’t have mattered as much in modernity with such a tiny pool of people, but it didn’t stop people from having their biases. A lot of them feared the Alphas. They’d been the most aggressive group in the heyday of the mutation, infamous for hostility and a lack of control. Soldiers in this class had left messes of people so unidentifiable that, on some of the old battlefields, bone shards are being dug up like fossils. There’d been a lot of families with closed-casket funerals.  

People didn’t extend the courtesy to you. They’d seen Jack defensive before, but never angry. All his rigidity had always been facing the opposite direction, sticking up for the honor of his workers like any good leader would. They felt safe around him, protected, in a way you knew they didn’t with you. 

You’d also been introduced as an alpha. Though, people who hadn’t gotten the announcement often guessed it before you broke the news. It didn’t matter that meeting someone with EGAD was a statistical rarity, people were always confident in their assumptions. You were headstrong, you argued, you didn’t feel welcoming. Betas had been the first to be phased out, and the choice between Alpha and Omega led nobody to the latter. Omegas were painted as the most pristine submissives, parental to their core and sweet enough to hurt. They were horribly infantilized in the great minds of the general public. And since you were so standoffish, you simply couldn’t be something so saccharine. 

It wasn’t true. But they had no way of telling if you were careful enough. So you played into it. 

You weren’t supposed to be in this genetic dispute at all. You’d presented in your mid twenties, which by all scientific standpoints, should have been impossible. You’d simply keeled over at the end of a lab in med school, and were reborn on the grimy floor of an apartment you could barely afford. 

You’d seen a specialist, knowing firsthand that the medical information about such a condition was practical, focused more on suppression and endurance than the change itself. You didn’t develop properly, didn’t get as strong, didn’t get as fast. Your sight didn’t advance at all and your sense of smell had compensated for it. You’d been warned of complication, of infertility, even of death if it got bad enough. It was more symbiote than mutation. A quiet sickness you’d be living with until the end.  

During hormonal peaks, where your eyes buzzed with pigment and your canines protruded further, you’d seen the full damage of your stunted growth. The blue was hardly there, drifting behind the normal color like murky water. Your fangs were stubby, extending far enough to be abnormal but not enough to pose a threat. 

And it hurt. So bad that it’d knocked you out. So bad that you doubted you’d come back from it. 

You followed procedure. You got your papers, answered questions, bought scent sticks and heat suppressants, and served your sentence diligently because you still had aspirations. You still had residency, and your career, and your passion, and your love. 

It’d stolen something from you, undoubtedly. You pulled away from people, you got too focused on going forward so that the present couldn’t reach you. 

It’d brought you to The Pitt, to the place you loved. It’d brought you to people you burned when they got close and admired when they were far enough away to not feel it. Jack was the only other enhanced person you’d met, and though you knew you weren’t his, you still understood his inability to give up on you. 

The others were denied a friendship with you. It was nothing they couldn’t find in other sources. 

Jack was being denied community. Harshly, at that. He didn’t get the steadfast denial. He didn’t get why you rejected everyone around you. 

He could read arrogance if it was offered, if you thought yourself above your coworkers. He would have accepted fear, too. Shyness, exhaustion, anything with some give. Something he could push into instead of against. 

He’d seen you with your patients before, forgiving and pliable. Gentle to a fault. You demonstrated you wanted to be here, were good at what you did. Half of you just shut off when faced with peer bonding. 

His brain functioned in a pack mentality, had since he was fourteen. He could categorize hard refusal. If someone wanted no part of what he did, that was fine by him. You existed too heavily in the gray area for him to decode. You weren’t aggravated, you weren’t outwardly cruel. You came when called, you did what needed doing without complaint. You were perfectly reliable. And that clashed heavily with his desire to know you, to exchange stories and understanding. It clashed heavily with the chipped stone of your demeanor. 

You’d hardly been here a month, but when he thought too hard about your established position, his stomach tightened. Nervous at the thought of never growing, of having another person with EGAD in such close proximity and having them choose to slip right through the cracks of his open hands. 

He blames this notion for the depth of his distress. 

You’d brought a man in from the waiting room ten minutes ago. The sun was up, your shift should have been over but the day crew was still trickling in. You’d said you were taking one last patient, and he couldn’t stop you if he tried. He’d watched it happen in the same unsure way he tracks your placement throughout the night. He writes it off as being a good attending. He never manages to fully convince himself.

The man had been eyeing you oddly, working his gaze over you in a way that was too analytical to be docile. He’d looked subtly upset, like words of offense were hiding just behind his teeth, waiting for the moment he was alone enough to spit them out. 

You’d sat him down once beyond the curtain, inquiring about his pain level and his reason for visitation. He’d given you nothing but silence back. 

You re-checked his chart, presuming you must have missed a note of deafness or difficulty with processing. You saw nothing. 

His eyes left yours and drooped down to the collar of your scrubs. He’d finally chimed in, asking after the small pin that sat on it. 

EGAD markers weren’t lawful policy. They differed based on the hospital you were in, with no set look and some not requiring them at all. The Pitt did. And the protocols dealing with the disorder required transparency. If someone within your care requested the information, you had to fork it over. 

Trying to burst the apprehensive bubble that had risen in your throat, you cleared it. You gave him a simple, ‘I have Enhanced Genome Activity Disorder, sir. The pin signifies that.’ 

You weren’t forced to share your class. You weren’t forced to say anything beyond what you had, really. But he’d angered when you wouldn’t disclose your status. 

He’d shouted about his distaste for freaks treating him, for being able to work and live instead of being detained, of alpha scum pretending they were people and not monsters. 

You had stood up in the moment. Trying harder than you should have to calm him down, to hold steady when he shot up in response. He’d assumed your place on the podium, placing you where the rest of them had. He held the impression that alphas were violent, and still he squared up. You had no strength to flex, no bells and whistles that might scare him off. You just had his incorrect ideas about your place in the world and what it meant. It wasn’t enough. You knew it wasn’t enough. 

You heard footsteps rushing towards you at the same second he hit you. 

It was a clean hook against your jaw, jolting you sideways but not knocking you down. Your hands found the wall to steady yourself as the curtain was ripped open. Two security guards were restricting his arms, dragging him towards the main entrance before you even registered the third presence in the space. 

You heard his breathing; and, even through the three huffs of your scent stick you’d done today, you smelled the muddied smoke and melted sugar that you always spent the day trying to ignore. You straightened your shoulders, retreating from the wall when he tried to get closer to you.

You watched how it stung when you did it, your distrust like a rusty nail hammered straight into his rib. He wanted to help. He wanted to make you feel safe. And you backed away like his proximity was painful. 

“I won’t move, promise.” He put his hands up while he spoke, just for a second. A signal of peace. An assurance he meant to harm. “You’re hurt. Let me check your head.”

His voice dragged like thunder over mountains, settling in the deepest parts of your bones and washing out the shame that took home there. And, horrifyingly, the longer you soaked in it, the tighter your stomach wound. 

His insistence on your comfort, the way the scrub sleeves dug into his arms when he’d raised them, his tone, his words, how he’d said them. That god-awful pin on his collar, beaming like he’d saved a star and stuck in through his uniform. A reminder that you and him shared something innate, that nobody else for miles felt what you and him did. That regardless of whatever childish denial you projected, the two of you were connected by something more demanding than consciousness, than decision. 

It was too much. It was too fast. 

It was your heat, raking against you upon it’s arrival and stronger than you’d experienced in all the months you’d been having them. One you were completely unprepared for and entirely defenseless against. 

The choice you made next was reckless, surging forward and around him as he spun and trailed after you. Your incident seemed to happen at the perfect time between old and new, where night shift was too far away to witness and day shift was too busy to have seen the severity of what occurred. They saw security and the semi-chase of two tired adults and figured they’d get the details later if there was a stall. They couldn’t afford the spectacle, especially not when they were still missing staff members. 

You ignored the few times he’d said your name, asked you to stop, to talk to him. You led him into the lockers, desolate and too sterile for your sensitivity. You tried to bask in the neutrality, knowing that him in such a confined space meant a room flooded before long. 

“Please, can you talk to me? What happened in there?” 

You yanked open the door to your allotted number, biting down on your tongue when a fresh pain coiled warmly around the nerves of your abdomen. This would be your undoing. This would be how you lost your appearances, your reputation.

You were endlessly questioning why he had to have been here, why he still persisted with you, why he wanted it so badly. You could feel yourself shaking your head in response to everything he’d asked and was continuing to ask, your lips beginning to tremble from the pure weight of restraint and composure. You hoarded your stuff into your shaky grip, leaving all but necessities there to be collected another day. You needed to leave. 

He could smell something was wrong, fear and anguish leaking from every pore you had. He’d had an alpha buddy in the military, and even in uncertain times, his unease had never invoked what Jack felt with you. Every one of his instincts was alight, burning with the fight between rationality and biology. He was engineered to protect, he knew that, but this was something else entirely. 

“Hey, hey -” His legs moved before his mind could, grabbing your arm as you started leaving. He shouldn’t have, he knew immediately that he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t let you go unless he was going with you. 

Something guttural tore out of you at the feeling of heat. Of pressure. Of his skin on yours. 

Your body tensed, flinching away and wrenching out of his grasp. Your brain wrestled with itself in endless circles, the need of giving in and the want of strength in solitude. 

You finally looked at him, holding your mask up with desperate fingers and an insufficient will. 

“I don’t…” You had to stop your sentence to heave, the air doing nothing to quell the pain but the absence worsening it. “I don’t need you to protect me.” 

Something shifted in the set of his expression. His lips tightened a bit, the silken interlace of concern and confusion wrapping around his blown pupils. “I know that.”

He was so eager to be on your side. It split the foundation of your resistance at the base, cracks splintering up the sides until it could barely hold you anymore. It’d be so easy to tell him. To stop struggling against the man who asked for nothing but the chance to make you comfortable. 

“I don’t think you need anything from me. I see how you handle things. I know it’s not easy.” He moves the tiniest bit closer, not wanting to repel you more but not being able to stop himself. “You’re extremely respected here, but I just…I can tell you’re not safe. And that’s important to me.” 

You felt your eyes harbor tears before you could halt their gathering. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t.

“I want to protect you. You don’t need it, but you’re a part of my team.” He was inches away now. Too near and too calming and too sturdy for how intangible you were. “And, more than that - you know, we’re…we share something. Just the two of us. That’s important to me too.” 

It’s such a direct claim that your structure fully breaks, the steady tightrope you’d been balancing on for a month severing completely before him. It sparks a pain that makes you double, guiding your back to grate down the lockers. Your hands try to stop it, but it’s so unyielding that it strips you of any power you possessed. Any attempts of grounding are useless with him there. You can see nothing but him. Feel nothing but him. Breathe nothing but him. Every baseless voice in your head yelling to submit, to allow, to give. 

His body jerks towards yours, trying to overwrite his politeness and rush him into action. He gets caught between his cognition and his instinct, not meeting you where you are but moving like he wants to. 

Your head is tilted down in an attempt to hide your shortcomings. You can feel the fledgling visibility of your late blooming. Nobody’s ever seen it. You vowed nobody ever would. 

And, as the floodgates break for the first time, you hear your own voice smaller than it’s ever been. 

“I’m not an alpha.” 

The words are a rush, singeing your vocal cords as the venom you’ve carried for years is expelled at his feet. He feels the heaviness of the confession. The responsibility of it. 

He crouches down, leveling the playing field and getting somewhere the two of you could return to being equals. He sighs out any lingering extremism, knowing what you need now, more than anything, is acceptance. Is leadership. 

“Look at me.” 

Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm. You couldn’t make your head move. The command echoed like gospel, but you couldn’t make yourself abide despite your desire to. Your chest rose and fell in harsher beats. More war. 

“It’s ok.” 

The scuffed pads of his fingers made featherlight contact with the side of your jaw furthest from him. The imagery of his hand, one that had taken and given life alike, pressing into the mostly-healed bruise gifted to you by an aggressor felt almost pornographic. Such a simple statement, but one with so much promise. Acceptance and leadership. 

He turned your head, revealing the grotesque underdevelopment like it was the first sunrise he’d seen in decades. He studied the band of muted blue lit up inside your irises, iridescent and somehow indecent with how vulnerable it was. It made your eye color look sparkly, like a child had spun a ring of glitter glue inside and let it sink to the bottom. 

His thumb moved to your top lip, feeling it twitch beneath the touch. You almost leapt to warn him, to run away. But, deep down, you think you’ve wanted him like this for a while. You hadn’t let anyone touch you since you’d presented. You’d never even dreamed of being had like this. So entirely unabashed. 

He pushed up on the soft of your mouth, raising it in the spot that covered your canine, staring at your gums and teeth like you were a dog and he was your owner. It was mortifying. It was dehumanizing, surely. It was helping the pain. 

You heard the breathiest laugh leak out, as though it’d slipped through his system of defense holding together his decency. “Cute.” 

That was certainly dehumanizing. You felt the word boil, sinking into the endless heat that’d been building inside of you, on top of your skin. You’re sure he could smell it now, The half-baked thing that was a defective’s heat slurred with the arousal sprouting quickly in your lower stomach. You swear you tried for a rebuttal, to say anything that would preserve the facade you’d crafted. All that sounded out was a whimper, maimed and animal-like in a way you always swore you weren’t. 

You grabbed the arm that was close to your face, fingers squeezing his forearm. The life of it was obscene, how his skin caved to accommodate yours. How you could feel the muscle flex with the surprise of the pressure. “Don’t be mean, Jack.” 

“‘M not being mean, kid.” You’d never heard him sound like this. His voice was as wrecked as you felt. “You should have told me.” 

You nodded your head. You didn’t agree. You shouldn’t have told him because you shouldn’t have told anyone. This was your secret, your life. Your body agreed with him. And that was infuriating as it was irrefutable. 

He stood up, a large part of you panicking under the guise that he was leaving, that you’d created a false sense of security where there wasn’t one. That sense was null when he opened his own locker, the sound of keys against metal sounding out and silencing the drop of doubt. 

“Come on.” 

He pulled you up by the shoulders, his strength prevalent in the effortlessness with which he hoisted you to your feet. That did little to extinguish the flame. 

“I’m taking you home.” 

His car, you think, could have been a preview of the scent his house would have been filled with. He didn’t take you to his. He took you to yours, despite you never telling him your address. You tried to be only slightly disappointed once you were inside your place. 

It’d been a silent ride there, your body tense and leaned against the door as the intimacy of it all made you dizzy. His presence had helped with the pain at first, but the longer you spent near him, the more it was coming back in waves.

The sound of the door closing is deathly, punctuation to the blurriest of lines. You’re sweating, head tilted against the back of the wood. It’s eating you alive now, charring your soft innards and begging to be given access to your bones, your skin. You teeter on cohesion, all thoughts of suppressants, of sense, officially departing with a wave. 

He goes to make a move, presumably to pull you to the bed, to urge you into rest. Once he’s close enough, you twist your fingers into the fabric of his scrubs. Neither of you had changed as you’d slipped out the side door. Lacking both the time and the energy. 

“Jack,” you whisper. It’s disgustingly timid, faux acidity coating your mouth as the cowardly tone. You weren’t above it anymore. If anything, you were prepared to sink much lower. “I need you to make it stop.” 

Before you even finished the request, he felt the certainty of it stir in his stomach. Subconscious things he had no control of reading you like an open book. You needed him. That was the beginning and end of everything. 

“Kid, you’re not thinking right - “ 

“I am. I am.” Your hold on his scrubs tightened, nudging him even closer towards you. Urgency was evident in the way you tugged at him, in the way your features practically bent around the plea on your face. “You can fix it. You can help me, Jack. Please. I need you to help me.” 

You’d never begged for something this intently and this audibly in your life. But the ache was stifling, and you’d never wanted anything more than him in this moment. You’d chastise others when they’d talk about connection, about hormones and soul and desire. But you understood now. You understood everything. 

It was him who’d take the fall for it. He knew what kind of man it’d make him when he gave in. Fucking an omega he wasn’t with when they’re knee-deep in a heat he was only making worse. He knew the pretty picture he was painting of discipline and good intentioned care was proved wrong by how hard he was, by how bad he wanted to feel you.

“Please, Jack.”

It was that moment that snapped his resolve. You were so desperate for him, so unlike the version of you that bickered with him over everything in the ER. He used to live for those times, the chances he got to push, to make your jaw clench and your eyes narrow as you stood your ground against him. The breathy way you’d said his name, the tightness of your fist on his shirt, your scent, the begging. It was all so sweet, so good, so impossibly pure in the face of absolute debauchery. 

He didn’t know if this was corruption in it’s typical form, but he was a bad man for doing it. And he’d take it all if it came hand in hand with you. 

The collision of your mouths was lethal. He pressed you further into the door, using his stature as leverage to pin you upright. 

You dove in just as hard, lips meeting his with the force of a supernova, metaphorical horns clashing against his as you fought just for the notion of knowing he’d subdue you in the end. 

Your hands were beneath his shirt in an instant, pushing the fabric up high enough for him to pull back and part with it. He was an unfair sight so up close, so heated and real. You thought the frenzy would drive you into confidence, but you found yourself unable to touch him when the time came. You just stared for a moment, pain and ache fading into obscurity as the gravity of the situation began to tip the scales. 

As though attuned to you, he takes your wrist and brings it up to his bare chest, enveloping the back of your hand and holding it over his beating heart. You feel his nose beneath your jawbone, the ghost of his lips on your throat, the scrape of his teeth. His other hand digs into the fat of your hip. There’s nothing else outside of him, an endless abyss with no option but to drown in it. 

“Don’t start thinking, pup.” 

It’s so demeaning how it makes you preen. Unwillingly arching more into his touch and failing to denounce how good it feels. You don’t recognize the sound you make, some moaned insult that makes his shoulders sway in a soft laughter. He’s laughing at you. At how poor your attempt was. And it just makes you wetter. 

“Can smell how bad you need it.” The words rumble against your skin, and your face heats in embarrassment. This disorder didn’t make people crass. This was all him. “Lean into it. You know what to do.” 

You’re so far gone that you just nod, dragging his mouth back to yours and starting to push down the waistband of his scrubs. You get them down to his mid thigh before reaching back down to repeat with his underwear. 

He does one better, grasping the hem of your pants and tearing down the seams. It’s so easy for him, so primal that it forces a gasp from you. You know somewhere in the back of your mind that was irresponsible. That an already underfunded hospital is down a uniform now. You’ll find care for it at another time. It’s the last sensible promise you’ll make today. 

He glances down, your panties hugging your tummy and hips in a way he swears could kill him. The gusset is completely soaked through, the top of the wet spot like a beacon above the place where your thighs meet. He skims his hand over the soft bulge of your stomach, feeling the pliancy of flesh and fabric in a way that goes straight to his cock.

“Take them off. ‘M not gonna ruin them.” 

It’s half exhale, half statement. You follow, shoving them down until they’re baggy enough to fall on their own. Your movements are quick, his are quicker as he gets out of his own. He’s back on you as soon as it’s done. 

Your obedience does him in. Hooking your leg around his waist, he doesn’t tease, doesn’t taunt, he can’t stand the distance it’d take to do so. He presses into you with a single, aching thrust. He knows he should have warmed you up, should have done many things differently. But carnality is a beast in it’s own right, and your grabbing hands and coaxing sounds lured him into a quickness he wouldn’t have been able to stomach at any other time. 

The top of your skull met the back of the door with a hollow, lulling sound. He felt your hand against his pelvis, as though you wanted to stop him but put no amount of force into doing so. Your lips were slightly parted, the tips of your fangs prominent through the gap. He wanted to run his tongue against their sharpness, test just how lethal you could be. 

Like he’d done before, he took hold of the wrist that was making contact, this time bringing it up to his mouth. He kissed just below your palm, silently marking the scent gland that resided there. He felt how hard you clenched at that, starting to move in and out through the tension. 

“Always smell so good, you know that?” He’d always wondered why another alpha had such an enticing aroma. Most alpha on alpha pairings had been by choice, way back when. Scent had always drawn opposite to opposite. He can’t believe he hadn’t had this revelation sooner. “If the others could feel it like I do, kid. God, they’d never leave you alone.” 

You sobbed, outright and appalling. You joined your mouths again purely in an attempt to stop him from talking more. You had no capacity for denial right now, simply acting as an open book, sapping up whatever ink found it’s way onto your pages. And he knew that. He had to. 

His hand reaches down, thumb starting a matching pace on your clit as he drags you towards the end with him. It’s entirely too much. You’re so sensitive and it hurts but he’s so addicting that you feel nothing but complacency. You’d always used suppressants during your heats. You’d never felt anything with this kind of intensity. 

“Can feel you’re close, pup. Come on.” He’s like a metronome, pumping in and out and rubbing and talking until you’re not sure you could deny him anything at all. “Want you to cum on me. Do it for me.” 

He says it nose to nose with you, mumbling against your lips so clearly that you’re positive you can taste your own sin reflected back. And it works. That incessant reminder that he’s in control right now, that you’ll do it because it’s for him. 

You tense up hard, leaping past all acceptable boundaries because he’d asked you to. Your back arches off the wall, nails biting blunt marks into his shoulders. 

Your name leaves him in the prettiest, deconstructed way. It wrecks you and for the first time tonight, he follows your lead. The base of him swells up, warmth and wet locked in place as he helps hold you steady. 

You can feel his breath against the mating gland on your neck, chests heaving in sync.

And, for the most fleeting of seconds, you allow yourself the fantasy of being his.  

“Bet what?” Gojo places his arm around the shorter man, pulling him real up and close and personal,”Welll, me and Sugu were thinking we could have a fair way to really see if she’s as desperate as you say.” While Gojo doesn’t wholeheartedly believe everything he was saying about you, he could agree that you did seem desperate in a sense. Not to the degree Noaya was going on about, but there was an air about you that screamed “I’ve never had a boyfriend!”

“How would that work?” Geto chimes in,” Me and Gojo would pursue her, laying it on her as thick as we can and seeing if it works or not.” Noaya raises his hands in confusion,” What could I possibly get out of that?”

Gojo pipes out,”If we can’t do it you’ll have bragging rights anddd me and Suguru both owe you a separate favor. Anything you could possibly want.” Just hearing the words bragging rights had Noaya’s massive ego hooked—plus a favor from each of them! That’s all he needed to hear. “If we win you have to do whatever we say for a whole week.”

It was risky with how charming and popular the dynamic duo really are. Geto is praised for his elegant demeanor paired with his tactful mind, funny yet kind personality, and leader qualities that gave him connections with people nobody wanted to get on the bad side of. And Gojo was profoundly rich, having multiple ties with Jujitsu tech University, known for his goofy yet kind personality, and had a hidden strength no one else could ever compare to. Not to mention they both were devastatingly good looking, a fact even a prideful man like Noaya couldn’t ignore.

That’s why it was important to have something over their heads for a change, if things went Noaya’s way he could finally rise above them. “Alright then, it’s a bet but you only have a month to do it.” He sticks both hands out, motioning for them to shake it. They do, smiling with cruelty.

They knew as they sealed the deal it wasn’t a fair bargain. They knew the power they had over others, knew how easily they sway anyone. This wasn’t a bet, it was simply a fortune for what’s to come.

They release their hands from the hold already gazing at you but you’re no longer alone. You’re conversing with Shoko, the interaction is albeit short, it ending with you handing a silver laptop to their friend. And before they could process it you’re gone, lost in the ocean of people. Noaya chuckles,”Oops, look like you both lost her. Good luck with finding her again.”

Geto puts his cockiness back in check,”We could just ask Shoko how she knows her. C’mon Toru ,” he motions for him,”let’s go find out about our mystery girl.” Gojo follows behind but not without him sticking his tongue out at Noaya,”Get ready to loseeee.” He taunts sing song.

Noaya grumbles a whatever that falls on deaf ears.

Geto and Gojo easily meet paths with Shoko, but not without being stopped by people in the crowd, bombarded with hellos or future invitations to upcoming parties. She sighs at just seeing them in her eyesight,”What are you two scheming?” Gojo whines, draping his much bigger body onto Shokos,”Don’t be so mean, can’t friends say hello just cause?”

She gives a pointed look at Geto, knowing he’ll give the real honest answer. “We were wondering who that girl you were talking to was.” She huffs, pushing Gojo off of her. Her clean and polished fingertips grab a stray cigarette from her pocket, leering at Geto expectantly. Wordlessly, he pulls the lighter he purely owns because of Shoko’s habit out from the confines of his baggy pants, extending it and then igniting the smoke for her.

She takes a drag from it before she speaks, “She’s my roommate. What do you two want with her?” She’s holding the cigarette between her pointer and index finger, her tired eyes picking up on the hijinks they’re planning to get up to. That was just perfect. Their target just happens to be rooming with one of their closest companions, what are the odds of that? The chances of Noaya even winning the bet just got even slimmer.

“A little game me and Sugu are playing.” Gojo exclaims excitedly. “Gosh, you both are terrible,” she takes another inhale of the smoke before exhaling,”she’s really nice and she doesn’t get into trouble so why are you dragging her in your bullshit?”

Geto replies matter of factly, like planning to play mind games with a innocent stranger is completely normal behavior. “We’re not going to hurt her or anything, we’re just curious about something.” Shoko perks her eyebrow,”And that is?”

“We’re just wondering how much she’ll like me and Toru.” A half truth. One that doesn’t even go to the extent of what they’re plotting already. “Is this one of your stupid bets again? You two really need to grow up.” Gojo snaps his fingers, his pointers sticking straight at Shoko,”Bingo! But jeezzz Shoko you don’t have to be so mean and put us down like that.”

Shoko gives a pointed look towards the man pointing at her,”Quit that.” Gojo quickly purses out his bottom lip but obeys, slowly lowering down his hands. She then turns her attention back onto his counterpart, peering at him with an unreadable expression.

Sighing, she plucks the cigarette from her mouth,”I’m not going to tell you what to do or anything. Just don’t disrupt my studies, I can’t cheat again or else my ass is in hot water. “ Gojo perks up,”So that means you’ll help us?” She tuts,”As if I’d get wrapped up in your antics.” Her brown eyes give him a shady once over, looking up and down at his lanky demeanor.

“What do ya mean myy antics? Sugurus doing it too!” Gojo protests. Gojo’s no stranger to this happening to him, even with little things they always equally did, he’d always receive the brunt of the blame. It’s like no one else sees Geto is just as equally responsible for the shenanigans they both do. They’re essentially cut from the same cloth, Gojo just happens to be more vocal about it.

Yet again, Shoko ignores his words, choosing instead to speak directly to Geto. “I won’t help but I won’t stop you, no matter what I think. Just…”she pauses, searching for her words gently,”don’t do anything too crazy. Like I said she’s really nice and kind of a shut in even by my standards.”

The raven haired man grins reassuringly,”We won’t do anything we can’t come back from.” It’s a truth. A truth because truly with the way they’re positioned in life there isn’t anything they couldn’t bounce back from.

Shoko hums in response, tucking her retrieved laptop under her arm. “Alright then, I’ll believe you.” She huffs smoke in their faces as she warns the plotting pair,”You better not be a pain in my ass later.” She waves coolly to them, her lips pressed rigidly on the ciggy.

Gojo gingerly mirrors the wave, exclaiming,”We wouldn’t even dream of that.” She scoffs, amused by his words because the duo were always a pain in her ass one way or another. Geto is more calm with his goodbye,”See you later.” She nods in recognition before walking into the crowd of people, a cloud of murky gray surrounding her as she makes her exit.

Geto watches her leave with a devious glint in his eyes, something Gojo quickly picks up on. “You already have something in mind?” He asks, already knowing the answer. “Of course I do.”

Gojo grins at this, excitement already coursing through his veins. It’s been awhile since he’s seen that look in his friend’s optics.

This was gonna be fun.

𝙋𝙃𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝙊𝙉𝙀:𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝘾𝙐𝙏𝙀

It was calculated, it had to be. Gojo’s not very fond of plans or abiding by rules, however this had to be perfect.

It had all began when he did some poking around and found you frequented the campus’s library With pestering(bribing) Shoko he finally got vital information about your whereabouts. So much for her not helping.

Tuesdays and Wednesdays you went to the campus cafe.

Monday, Thursday, and Friday were all spent at the library after your lectures.

And you worked part time at a bakery next door to the Campus, the days ranging from Saturday to Wednesday.

His informant told him you go alone all the time. Flawless,for his planned execution, he would make sure this interaction would have his target eating from the palm of his hand.

He sits back on the cushioned chair, his blue eyes closing in thought. He wonders what you’d sound like. You didn’t look like much when he saw a glimpse of you at the party, he recalls you appearing to have just rolled out of bed, uncaring about your perception. He wonders if you know about him…it’s impossible not to in all honesty. Gojo and his peer have been well know since their arrival at the University. There was never any silence when his name was brought up—there’s always something to say about him.

He opens one of his eyes, his optics catching a peek of a hurried woman walking past him. He follows her rushed step with tilts of his head, the motions stopping once he caught sight of her face. It was you.

It’s a Thursday after all. Gojo’s glad he didn’t have to wait in this stuffy library for too long. His eyes take in every detail he can about you, your hurried breathes, the pant-leg of your sweats being raised higher than the other, your anxious expression.

You walk over to the librarian, nervously playing with your fingers behind your back. You look frantic, almost like you’re about to cry. Gojo decides now’s his chance. He easily saunters over, a smile painting his handsome features.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Finally, for the first time since he’s saw you he gets to see your face directly. Your face is comprised with softness, all your features complement the others, from your trembling lips to your ample cheeks that remind Gojo of a chipmunk. And your glossy orbs pull him in, something about them being gravitational.

“I’m sorry if I was making a scene—I just don’t understand what’s going on.” You turn your attention back onto the librarian who’s giving you a stern look. “I always return my books on time. I don’t understand this fee! I can’t afford something so high!” Gojo finally sees the receipt like paper in your hand, the hand you’re clenching so hard he could see the whites of your knuckles.

“The system doesn’t lie ma’am. The fee has to be paid for or you’ll be banned from the library.” The librarians voice is absolute and final. She wouldn’t listen to any of your begs and pleas. As he watches the interaction Gojo begins to recall Geto saying he’d make perfect conditions for them to slither their way into your life. It’s dawning on him that now this is the conditions Geto made for them. Sly fox, forcing you in a panicked state.

Later he’ll ask him how he managed to bribe the librarian but for now he needs to take this opportunity. “But 200 dollars?! I can’t pay that right now.” Your voice is pleading, the vocal cords crying for you before you could get the impending water works going. Gojo leans in real close to you, making sure you experience the brush of his lithe fingers on your lower back. “I can pay it.” He says calmly.

For a moment you don’t humor him, your attention still on the librarian. But he makes himself known as he shuffles in his pocket for his wallet. “What? No—No. I can handle this. Please don’t waste your money on my problems.” He scoffs internally, questioning you in his head. You’re in no place to decline any favors. Yet, here you are, hands raised up in frantic defiance, utterance laced with embarrassment.

“No really, I can pay. The faster this ends the faster I can check out my book.” It’s a lie, one that doesn’t have evidence to back it up, as Gojo’s hands are free from holding any literary piece. But it worked to stop your fervent denial, maybe it was your worried state or lack of observational skills, whatever it may be Gojo’s just glad you didn’t point out the absence of said book.

“I’m sorry for being in your way. But you absolutely cannot do that. I don’t even know you and you can’t waste your money on strangers.” Okay this wasn’t going to work. Him playing a good samaritan would be fruitless if you just denied every time. He has to go with a different approach.

“Okay then, I understand. But would it be too much to ask if I could just check out really quick?” You smile assuredly,”Yes! M’sorry.” You park yourself to the side,allowing the tall man to move up to front of the desk. He doesn’t pull a book from his back, instead his wallet, then his premium credit card that makes a beeping sound as he swipes it thoughtlessly.

You have no room for protests because it’s too late for any of that once you notice what he did. Your mouth is agape and Gojo almost reaches to close it himself but he restrains his urge. You glance at the librarian and then him, then the librarian again, and at last you fix your gaze on him. “Why..,”your voice trails on with disbelief,”w-why’d you do that?”

He shrugs,”Why wouldn’t I do that?” His tone is full of calmness, as if spending 200 dollars on a complete stranger is perfectly normal. Gojo can tell there’s thousands of thoughts that race through your mind. Your mouth opens and closes before you pick the one you verbally want to express. “You shouldn’t have done that. I-I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’ll tell you what, you owe me now.” The man can tell this what you feared that came with his seemingly kind offer. “Owe you? But I didn’t even ask for you to do this.” Your nose is scrunched up in confusion, something Gojo notes as cute. Your hands reach in the compartments of your sweats, searching for the little stray cash you have in there.

You pull out a measly five dollars which Gojo has to prevent himself from laughing at. “I don’t want your money. I want something else.” Again your face scrunches in worried curiosity, your lips forming in a thin line as you await his next words. “Chill outttt, m’ not gonna ask for anything weird.” His hand reaches out for your shoulder, his large hand almost swallowing it. “Damn loosen up, you’re so tense..” he mumbles, which then follows up with soft laughter.

“T-Then what do you want?” You’re frightened and confused, your face beaming your emotions with such truth. He’s glad you’re this easy to shake up, this really would be fun if you keep responding like that. “I see you at that bakery, the one by campus.” He likes the way you drink up his words, appearing to be holding onto every single syllable he’s saying. Shoko wasn’t fibbing when she said you’re a shut in, Gojo feels like any sociable person would respond differently. But you’re so responsive…so accepting of this. It’s addicting to the man already and he’s only just made your acquaintance. He supposes new people don’t talk to you often.

“I like it there and was wondering if I could a bring a friend and have a meal on the house.” Instantly your expression softens by tenfold and your lips finally show their true shape once more. With the worry melted away from your face you say,”Oh my gosh, I was worried for a second. But um,yeah I can give you and your friend a free meal. Two free meals if you’d like. You really helped me out right now.” He bets you feel so special right now. Being noticed by a stranger who paid off your debt, you’re probably swooning. As long as you felt special this would be a walk in the park.

“Perfect! I’ll give you my number so you know when I’m coming.” Your face washes with confusion. Why would you need his number when he could just walk in? It quickly goes away though as he asks for your phone. He takes note of that but doesn’t worry too much about it because you obey and hand him your unlocked device.

While he gives you your phone back,your eyes glance at the contact name he put himself under,”Toru.” “What’s your name so I know what to put you under when you text me?” You say your name and as you do so you notice he already texted himself from your phone. Odd.

“I can’t wait to see you again…,” he practically purrs your name, his singsong voice making sure to drip with affection. “We’re totally friends now.” He watches as your expression mixes in with a new flustered warmth that heats up your entire body. Poor little shut in, can’t handle meeting new people. How cute.

He smiles wide at this, expression leaking with cockiness. He’s got you.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

“You wanna know the funniest part Sugu?” Said man, hums in response. “She totally didn’t even fight me. She just let it happen! Can you believe that?” Geto chuckles,”So she’s as socially inept as I thought.”

Gojo scoffs, leaning back in his seat as he rests his hand behind his head,”Ohhhh for sure! She speaks so…awkwardly? I think that’s the best way I could put it.” Geto leans in,”Is that so? How’d she look when she saw the fee? Was she about to cry?” His voice is ridden with faux sympathy. “She literally was on the brink of tears when I walked over. It was crazy—Say, how’d you even get that to happen with the librarian? She was playing into her role sooo good.”

“Easy, I just reminded her who got her hired here.That’s all I needed to do.” The white haired man gasps,”You didn’t tell me you got her hired? How’d you do that?” Geto raises a brow,”Do I have to tell you everything I’m up to?” Without hesitation Gojo nods with passion,”Of course you do! Best friends, remember?”

Geto huffs an amused chuckle” I still won’t tell you. It’s good to have some mystery.” Gojo rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his built chest,”Whatever…I didn’t really wanna know anyway.” Geto smiles, that same close eyed grin he often does whenever he’s around Gojo. “Have you texted her, yet?” Gojo shakes his mop of hair,”No, I wanted to surprise her that I came.”

It’d been a week since Gojo had encountered you. You had texted him a couple times, nothing major but he never jumped to answer you, despite his excitement. Anything he could do to feign closeness with you he would do. He had to leave you hanging sometimes,otherwise you wouldn’t come back for more.

“Does she know about you? About us?” Geto clarifies. “Mmm,I think soo. When she saw me I don’t think she recognized me. But she texted me if my full name was Gojo Satoru and when I said yeah she totally flipped out. So I guess she’ll for sure know who you are once she sees you.”

Geto can’t help but think that a recluse like you still hears new around school. That’d be useful for the future. “I have to admit, I’m kind of excited to meet her. The way you describe her is so entertaining.”

The white haired man is about to begin his sentence but he hears the dinging of the opened door and his eyes quickly meet yours. This is the nicest he’s ever seen you dressed. Wearing some slacks muchhh more form fitting compared to your baggy sweats,paired with a t shirt that had the logo of the bakery plastered all over it. Who knew someone could look immensely better in their work uniform?

Your face goes through a variant of emotions—shock,surprise,recognition, and then finally your mouth etches into a meek smile, one where your upper lip is swallowed by the bottom. “Hey! Come over here! I want you to meet my friend.” Gojo’s hand motions for you to walk, and you comply. You’re fiddling with your fingers as you stand above the two men. “This is Suguru Geto.” He pulls the man next to him in a one armed embrace, almost like he’s a kid showing off his prized possession. Geto doesn’t object to the affection, instead he deepens it by slugging his own arm around him.

Geto holds in a chuckle when he sees you fight back a physical reaction when he gazes into your eyes. You quickly pull away from the contact, eyes rolling down to look at your scuffed up shoes. He fights the urge to tell you to look at him. Barely,but he does. “And you are?” His voice is like honey,deep and seasoned with this twang that is so calming. You say your name quickly, as if you were trying to get this interaction over with before you damn near explode from hot embarrassment.

“Satoru has told me so much about you. He seems to really like you.” Geto eats up the way you tense at his words. This would be a piece of cake. He’d have you wrapped around their finger in no time. “Oh t-that’s so nice! Thank you Gojo.” You briefly look up from your shoes to maintain a glance to Gojo, only to break it once he looks at you. “Call me Satoru..I told you we’re already friends. Geez, you’re so shy.” He teases you lightly at the end, a smirk forming when you shrink into yourself.

“Right, m’sorry. I’m not used to making friends so easily. I’ll remember that…” your voice softens as you shyly say,”Satoru.” The man who you addressed fights back a nasty blush he feels blooming, did you have to say his name so desperately? Geto piggybacks off his friend’s statement,”And you can call me Suguru, any friend of Satoru is a friend of mine.”

“Okay then, Suguru. It’s nice to meet you.” You smile and look at the pair. And your expression is damn near puppies wearing Halloween costumes level of cuteness. Suguru is beginning to understand about what Gojo was saying, you’re very easily accepting. Probably because you’d like to fit in. How far would you be willing to go to please your “friends”? This was gonna be good. Geto fights back a smirk that wants to paint his clean cut face. You were so exciting. What would be the mark of true desperation for you?

“Welll umm I gotta clock in. I’ll be sure to give you guys your free meals as soon as I get my stuff ready.” You politely nod your head before you start walking away to the counter, then disappear into stations blind to the customers eyes. Geto hums as you leave,”I don’t see what Noaya was talking about.” Gojo looks at him as he pulls away from the embrace,”What do ya mean?” He hums once more, thoughtfully,”I’m saying I’d fuck her. She’s real cute.”

“Ohhhhh—that’s what you meant! But I’d fuck her too. You think she’s been fucked before?” Gojo asks excitedly,his lengthy fingers drawing little imaginary doodles onto the table. “Oh no, not a shot she has. You can just tell by the way she clams up when we look at her.” His counterpart grows a wide grin on his face,”What if we change the bet up a bit..” Geto’s interest is instantly peaked,”How so?”

“What if we add in taking her virginity in there too? It’d be a lil more challenging and I know Noaya is already sweating bullets because he knows he’ll lose.”

“That weirdo will probably want proof if we do that.”

Gojo leans forward excitedly,”Then we’ll get proof.” His teeth glittering with mischief as he makes a gesture towards his phone that’s resting a top the rounded table. Geto’s visage is coated with amusement,”I like the way you’re thinking’ Toru.”

“I know I’m so brilliant,huh?” He goofily pushes his hair back, flexing his mass of biceps as he does so. Geto fights back a chuckle he won’t reward Gojo with. Instead he says,”Lemme call Noaya, see what he thinks.” It didn’t really matter what Noaya thought, they’d do it anyway. But maybe if they throw this in he’ll sweeten the deal a bit more.

Gojo nods, watching as Geto pulls out his phone from his baggy pants. He pays no mind to the call, his eyes remaining on your moving figure now clad in a black apron. He observes the way you dutifully make and serve your customers order, hidden behind the person by the cash register. He’s only seen you two times so far but he has to admit he agrees with Geto, you are real cute. Without the clothes that swallow your plush frame whole and with more sleep, you’re damn near hard not to ogle.

He’s tells himself that’s it good to get himself to be more fond of you,that’s all this could be to him. You were an experience to him, a game,nothing but a mere source of entertainment to him. He has to remind himself of this when you rush over to the table,whispering after you notice Geto’s still on the phone. You barely have to bend over as you whisper in his ear,”Quick,what do you and him want?” Gojo feels his lips curl upwards,”You don’t have to whisper,the phone call isn’t important. But I’d like the stuffed waffles with ice cream inside and ouuu extra extraaaaa whipped cream on mine. Oh and a stack of birthday cake pancakes.”

Your mouth widens in shock,just to close it as quickly as it opened. He sure has a sweet tooth. Still whispering you say,”Is that just for youuu or?” Gojo nonchalantly remarks,” Oh yeah, that’s for me. Mmm he likes anything rich and not too sweet—weird I know, but if you know anything like that on your menu he’d want that.” You nod dutifully,”Okay Go—Saturo. I’ll be back as soon as I can with that.”

Geto gets off the phone as soon as you saunter off to make the orders. With a curious brow he says,”Not that important,huh?” Gojo shrugs,”It’s just Noaya. Anyway what’d he say?” Geto buzzes with contentment,”He totally accepted it. I couldn’t say much at the end because..,”he tilts his head in your busy direction,”but he was really eager. And he did ask for proof after we’ve done it.”

“Figures. What made him bite?” The former replies with an amused grin,”I said I’d give him a little pr if we couldn’t do it. I almost feel bad for him, he’ll be at our beck and call for two weeks once we win.” Gojo’s overcame with glee,”Ohhh you upped it? Have I ever told you you’re a genius ‘Guru?” Geto replies,”Maybe once or twice.”

With a foxy grin on Geto’s face, he turns his attention to you, hooded eyes gawking at you in wonder. What would you bring to him? And would he tease you about it if you got his tastes wrong? Decisions, decisions. You’re very entertaining to him. Something about your seemingly awkward demeanor had him wondering what’d you look like when you can’t take attention on you anymore. Was there more to you? Or are you just a meek little thing? He couldn’t wait to find out.

“You stare at her any longer she might have holes in her before she even brings our food.” A teasing voice says. Geto rolls his eyes, resting his head on his palm,”You’re not one who should talk. I saw you staring much longer than I was.” Gojo pouts,”But I’m so discreet when I do it!”

Geto barks out a cackle,”Your eyes are practically neon blue. I don’t want to hear anything about discreetness from you.” Gojo recoils, gasping in feigned hurt,”How dare you! My eyes are my most complimented feature, thank you very much.” Geto motions his eyes up and down Gojo faces, lips forming in a disgusted scowl. Wordlessly judging the man. “Don’t look at me like that! Learn how to control your face.”

With a coy grin on his mug he says,” I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His face is now still, void of any emotion. Gojo huffs,”Switched up because you know I’m right.” He mumbles out the side of his mouth. Before Geto could smartly reply you’re there before him, standing there with three plates in your hands.

“I didn’t know what you would want Suguru but I got you tiramisu shortbread cookies, they’re not really on the sweet side.” You look nervous as you speak something the man you spoke to eats up. “That sounds delicious, thank you.” You place it in front of him, offering a small simper as you do. “And hereee you go, let me know if you want water to wash down all that sugar.” You place Gojo’s hefty plates of sweetness down, holding back an endeared laugh as you his eyes literally glisten with excitement.

“This looks so yummy! Did ya make it yourself?” He’s already digging in, avid hands cutting into his stack of pancakes with silverware that look small in his hold. Shyly you say,”Some of it. It would take too long to make everything from order.” You’re too humble, Geto thinks. As he observed you he saw you making most of their food with a thoughtfulness one couldn’t help but admire.

“Mmm, then I’ll make sure I’ll savor every last bite. You should totally come over to me and ‘Sugu’s house so you could teach me how to make these delicious pancakes.” Your eyes widen in shock, fingers playing with each other nervously. Are people always so accommodating? Since you arrived to university two years ago, people didn’t really talk to you so comfortably or friendly. You’ve made numerous efforts to make friends but you never make the cut once they venture off and make more. The only real friend you could almost confidently say is fond of you is Shoko. But she doesn’t really talk to you as much as she used to.

So maybe that’s why you shakily agree to Gojo’s offer,”Okay, I could teach you but no promises that I’m good at giving instructions.” Maybe you wouldn’t have if you weren’t so lonely. If you weren’t hungry for a genuine friendship. But you wanted to be like everyone else. But through your blind want, you miss the gaze the two men share, coated in deviousness.

“Perfect, you can come over tomorrow! Maybe we could watch a movie while we eat our hard work.” Gojo suggestion makes you clam up more yet you find yourself agreeing before you could really think. “I’ll pick the movie. You like horror movies?” With his gaze scrutinizing your reaction, your fidgeting grows even more apparent. “Umm I don’t like to watch them alone.” You’re always alone though. Something you hoped they couldn’t pick up on.

“You won’t be alone. You’ll be in good company.” Geto’s voice is like an alluring purr, one you can’t force yourself to defy. “Okay, that sounds good. I gotta head back to work, I hope you’ll enjoy your food.” You offer a rigid wave that they both return, fighting their mirth at the small action.

When you’re out of ear shot Geto gives his companion a proud look. “Good thinking with the house idea. I think that’ll get her closer to us.” With the new incentive on the table Geto couldn’t take the plan as slow and methodical as he would enjoy. You had to get attached to them as quickly as possible so they could complete the task at hand and then go about their business. It shouldn’t be difficult, you seem to have such a hard time not pleasing them. And unfortunately Gojo wasted a week of the short month they’ve been given to complete. Leaving him to work with a time frame of a measly three weeks.

With a mouthful of desserts stuffed in his mouth Gojo asks,”You think that’ll work? She doesn’t even really know you yet. I know she already likes me.” Geto reaches for the plate, taking a bite of the cookies that perfectly suited his tastes,” I got a plan. I’ll grow on her.” Gojo shrugs, trusting his friend. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it.”

They begin eating, though their eyes are not staring at the food, instead they’re resting on every movement you do. It’s like you’re their personal tv, the show to go with their meal. They’ll make comments here and there, discussing little things you do that they find entertaining.

Before they know it their food is completed. Gojo brings a satisfied hand to his belly,”Man I’m stuffed. You really should’ve tried some, it was so good!” Geto leans back, wiping any evidence of the cookies off his face,”No thanks. I like to keep my trips to the dentist at a minimum Toru.”

“Whatever, you’re totally missing out.” Geto answers,”If you say so..but anyhow give me her number.” Gojo picks up his phone from the table and already begins typing the in digits,”You’re gonna text her when we leave?” With a ding from Geto’s phone, he gazes at the notification with a smile,”Something like that. I’m going to walk her to her dorm. “ Gojo hums,”Think she’ll let you?”

Geto scoffs,”Of course she will. And if not I think I’m very convincing.” Gojo shrugs,”Alrighttt well let me know what you’re going to do, I gotta head out before my lecture starts.”

“As if you’re not always late.” Geto says, cheekily. “Hey! I’m trying to get better and my professor totally doesn’t like me. I think I should get him fired as soon as I can.” The black haired man smiles,”If that’s in your best interest do it. But if you really have to go that lecture, it’s already eight o clock, so you’re already late.”

Gojo jumps up, gawking at his phone to make sure it’s true and unfortunately it is. “Shit…I gotta go. Bye!” Gojo stands up urgently and rushes out the glass door, halting once he didn’t say his bye to you,”Bye thank you so much for the yummy food! Can’t wait to see ya tomorrow!” Your head snaps at the mans loud voice and you just reply with a wide smile and a polite nod. Geto’s goodbye mirrors your own, a wordless one.

Once Gojo’s presence is no longer Geto pounces. He stalks over to your station and motions with his finger for you to come to the front. With a few glances from your coworker working the cash register you hesitantly step up to speak to him. “Umm, yes?”

“It’s getting late, and Gojo had to leave so I was wondering if I could walk you to your dorm?” His voice is honeyed, kind and tranquil in way that ignites something deep in your belly. “I don’t get off until twelve, I’d hate for you to waste time waiting for me.” It was strange and abnormal with how friendly they were being. You’ve never had people be so kind to you well…ever. It feels like there’s something underlying you can’t quite put your finger on.

But then again, that longing for friendship. That want for companionship like your peers dipped into your heart and not your brain. Why not have hope that two of the campuses hottest men want to be your friend? “I have nothing better to do..besides I want to get to know you more.” Your lips form into a thoughtful thin line,”I—,” you want to begin but Geto’s eyes are peering into yours in a way that has you questioning your words,”umm I don’t know.”

Geto’s expression oozes this smug all knowing feeling. His smile still remains polite but it’s more strained,”I’ll be here when you make up your mind.” He already knew what your answer was going to be. It would be a resounding yes because Geto is almost too perceptive for his own good.

That’s why when you hesitantly call his name he has to feign surprise. “U-Um actually I’d like that.” He nods and gives you smirk that causes butterflies to rumble in the wake of your lower belly. You get that feeling he could tell you weren’t going to say no to him.

But you don’t dwell on that—work was too busy for that. As you carry out your mandated tasks you can’t help but feel watched. So much so that occasionally you crane your head facing the customers and every time you do there’s no one’s observing gaze.

You tell yourself you’re overthinking and being just a tad more self conscious than usual. You were always aware that people gawked at you—either for your plump demeanor or ill dressed body that you always dressed in comfy clothes no matter the occasion. Many people often assumed you didn’t take care of yourself because of that and to a certain extent you, yourself wouldn’t be able to tell them they’re incorrect. It had started because of insecurity at first—to cover the fat of your belly and the way it pokes out, to hide the thickness of your arms when you turned to the side, to shield the dimples and marks that stretch all over your body. But as you reached adulthood it was just because you couldn’t be bothered.

Insecurity melted away when you met reality. Sure,some people would make crude comments but that’s how life is unfortunately. Your body couldn’t be of any of your concern when you were more worried about your college experience wasting away in front of you. Girls that were more popular than you in high school always said you’d find boys that would worship you like they worshipped them when you went off to college—that would come along with finding friends that would be tried and true to you. Yet, here you are. In your second year of university and basically friendless. A kiss-less virgin that hadn’t even been asked out on a date before.

Pathetic. This feeling you would nurse everyday by consuming yourself within your favorite hobbies. Hobbies that revolved around you being fawned over by unreal men—otome games, visual novels, the works to fill that hole of your mundane life. Your contentment didn’t come from a real boyfriend coddling you and loving the way you wanted. Your happiness didn’t come from friends that wanted to hang out with you. It came from all things fictional, an unfortunate thing for the many innocent and…less than pure thoughts you had haunting your craving mind.

Maybe that’s why your heart soars when you still see Geto sitting handsomely at the table, awaiting for you to be done with your shift. When you walk over to him his eyes are as enchanting as ever. “Is your shift over?” He asks. “Yeah, I tried to hurry and change as fast as I could. Didn’t wanna keep you waiting any longer.” The sentence fuels Geto’s pride-you didn’t wanna keep him waiting any longer. How cute.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind the wait. Should we get going now?” His suggestion sounds more like a command, one you find yourself obediently following when opens the door for you to walk out. You wish your goodbyes to your coworkers, missing the way they whispered amongst themselves once you had your back facing towards them.

Your face is fanned by the cool breeze of the night, a blissful sigh falling from your lips once you feel the sensation. “Windy night.” You say in an ungainly manner. Cringing inwardly when Geto doesn’t give you a verbal response, only nodding his head in agreement.

The walk begins in silence and the whole time you’re gazing at Geto from the corner of your eye. He’s so collected, much more calmer than Gojo, but he’s just as playful and teasing from what you seen today. His sharp nose is almost hawk like, dipping down into the perfect tip of it. Something about Geto oozes dominance—a quiet one, a predatory one. Perhaps it was his feline like eyes that poured into your entire soul when he stared at you far too long. His features mismatch to forge his handsome face into one intimidating apex beast.

In contrast to his friend, Gojo seemed more open, more friendly and sillier. But you got the same feeling from both of them the longer they gazed at you. At the library you were honored someone so kind would pay for you, especially with the stranger being so well known and handsome. Yet, he looked at you with this gaze that screamed predator, like the kind act he did came with far bigger payment than free food.

The similar gaze Geto is giving you right now. You force your head to the side to avoid how naked and vulnerable his eyes make you feel. You needed to talk, anything to stop him from looking at you like that. So naturally you open your mouth to say,”Umm did those hurt?” His gaze is softer now, less focused, causing a small sigh of relief to briefly leave your mouth. “Did what?” He replied.

You point to your ears, motioning the lobe,”Your gauges.” His gauges were interesting to you because he no other piercings or body mods. It was simple,clean, just like he appeared to be on the outside. He grabs his dangling lobe,”Not really, it’s been so long since I got them done. I’m not planning on stretch them anymore either.”

You thought his response ended there as you open your mouth to reply but you quickly close it once he asks,”Would you like to touch them?” Geto revels in the way you noticeably fluster at his invitation. “Sure if you don’t mind.” He shakes his head and leans real close to your hand,”Go ahead, it won’t hurt if you tug.”

Your fingers carefully raised to the stretched skin, rolling it between the tips,unaware of the way the man before you watches with glee. You don’t do it for too long, quickly getting embarrassed at the way he unapologetically ogles you. “What’d you think?”

“Feels mushy and really soft. Is it weird that I said that?” He chuckles loudly into the night,”No not at all, I like that description. You know I don’t really let anyone do that, not even Gojo.” You’re tentative in your response, eyes refusing to look at him. Again he fights the urge to tell you to look at him, to stop being so meek. This time it’s harder to bite his tongue. “Really? Why’d you let me?” You begin to feel fluttering in your tummy, trying to ignore the way your body responds to his intimate words.

It was on purpose. He wants to make you seem closer to him than you really are. It’s easier this way, faster too. But the idea wasn’t pre planned because he really doesn’t let anyone touch his ears. “I guess you could say I’m already growing fond of you. “

Your eyes widen and your mouth is bitten between your teeth. You’re already playing with your fingers, a sign of emotional overload that Geto picked up on the first time you did it. He thinks you’re going to ask him why—question the man you only met today, be suspicious of him. And he’s prepared to answer. He came into this knowing you might find him and his accomplice odd.

He’s pleasantly surprised to hear,”I…um..I’m fond of you too.” It’s shy and low, but it didn’t need to be loud, Geto heard it crystal clear. “I’m glad, because I’d also like to be friends with you. Gojo always keeps the good stuff to himself so I hope he won’t mind sharing you.” You gulp, audibly, astounded by his words. He wanted to be your friend, said you’re a good catch, this had to be a fantasy of yours coming true.

“I don’t think he’ll mind. Plenty of people like him a lot—you too though! I know you both are very popular here.” Geto perks up brow, interested to see where you’re going with this,”Are you not popular yourself?” You snort in genuine laughter,”Oh God noooo, I don’t even think a total of five people from all my classes even know my name. I’m basically a nobody here.” You’re basically a nobody everywhere, but to save face and your ego you don’t say that part aloud. “Why not? You’re really pleasant to be around.”

You laugh again, still greatly tickled,”Look at me,” you gesture your hand up and down your body,”I don’t exactly scream popular material, do I?” And Geto does look at you, examining your untucked shirt, your hair style that looked like it was done in two minutes or less, your face that’s bare of any enhancements to your beauty. You looked different from that night at the party, not as cozy or as homely, but still your appearance lacked effort. Despite your lack of care for your appearance, Geto still thinks you’re real cute.

“I am looking at you and I still don’t see why you wouldn’t be popular.” You roll your eyes,” I appreciate that but there’s no need to soften the blow I get from everyone else. I know who I am in this world and I’ve grown to accept it.” Getos brows furrow,” And who is that?”

You don’t know what to say—invisible, a dud, a flop, a loser. Instead you settle for the much more gentle answer,one that doesn’t make you want to cry,”An underdog. I’m not for everyone, but I know the people I am for will love me to bits.” It’s hopeful and wistful, full of hunger for your desired future.

It almost makes Geto feel bad for doing this. For using you for entertainment—he quickly stops the budding ache of guilt he feels in his heart. Rather, he fuels your hopeful words,”I hope I’m around long enough to be apart of that.” It was sick, his words. It was wrong to give you hope, knowing what he plans to do to you.

But seeing your eyes light up and a charming smile to your lips made him feel a tad better. “I hope so too.” He returns the action, his eyes pulled tight and shut. As heart warmed as you truly felt by his uplifting words, your brain just processed something. How’d he know the exact direction of your dorm?

He never fumbled about or asked where to go not a single time. Quickly, you’re unnerved and your smile forms into a concerned frown. You stop walking completely, backing away from him just in case his kind demeanor was a ploy for something more sinister in store. He easily notices the change in behavior, craning his neck to look at your shaken form.

“What’s wrong?” He walks closer but it’s useless because every time he does you back up an extra three steps. Now you’re about six feet apart, a safe distance to run if needed. “How’d you know where my dorm is?”

He guffaws, clutching on his stomach with one hand, the other waving in a come here motion. “Don’t worry, I’m sorry I should’ve told you before we started walking. I’m friends with Shoko, your roommate.” He regained composure as you stepped closer to him.

You feel hot embarrassment flow down the tips of your ears and neck. God, second hot friend and you’re suspicious of him. Not a good look. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have thought that. But you know some people are…” You voice is faint, like if you speak any louder you’re going to embarrass yourself even more.

“It’s all good, a completely normal concern to have. But c’mon we’re almost there.” He takes hold of your wrist, it’s loose and friendly but it still knocks the air out of you. He’s practically dragging you before you realize you’ve been dragging your feet in a haze. You expected Gojo to be so touchy but not Geto. Maybe they’re more alike than you even thought.

You expected him to let go of you once gained control of your own two legs. He doesn’t. His grasp on you is a constant through the little commute you have left. And he’s so calm about it. Never looking back to see your reaction. His head full of neatly done hair stays positioned in front of him.

You’ve had friends in the past, if one could call them that. Yet, none of them have ever been as friendly as Geto and Gojo. None of your prior friends even paid for a hangout, let alone a 200 fee for you. Nor, did any of them offer to walk you home if it was late. Was this what it really was like when people actually liked you?

“And we’re here.” His voice is like an alarm clock, waking you up from your daze. “Oh, I didn’t even realize. That went by quick.” You pull your key from your pocket and Geto takes note of the little figurines from media you like. That could be useful.

You turn to Geto,”Thank you for even walking me home, you barely know me and you really didn’t have to.” You have the key in, twisting it as you wait for his response. “Yeah of course, I can’t have a pretty lady walking home alone so late.” You see why so many woman fawn over him. Well you saw before because you have a working set of eyes..but now you truly saw the charm that complements his handsome face. He’s a perfect gentleman, at least it seems.

You try not to show how being called pretty by him affects you, but you can just tell he knows by the way his lips curl confidently. “Uh..well, yes, thank you.” The door is now open halfway, the ajar entrance causing the sounds of a tv to bleed out. “Is it okay…,” his eyes scan you as he slowly pieces together his sentence,”if I come in? I have to use your bathroom. It’ll be real quick.”

You open the door wider, nodding hesitantly,”Yeah but please don’t judge I’ve been too tired to pick up lately.” You both enter the door, Geto being the last one in as he closes it behind him. You both are greeted with the sight of Shoko, passed out on the couch with an unlit cigarette between her lips. She was always so tired and you couldn’t blame her, she studied and worked hard. That’s why you never blamed her when she didn’t have to time to hang out with you.

You walk over to her, grabbing a stray blanket on the arm of the furniture and carefully draping it over her. Whispering, you ask,”Do you know where the bathroom is?” He nods before pointing in the direction of the restroom, stating silently he’s going there. You don’t respond, instead focusing your efforts on fixing Shoko’s seemingly painful bent neck. A proud grin forms one your face when you successfully don’t wake her.

You hear the closing of the bathroom door and you’re wondering if he’d be long. You so badly wanted to take a shower as soon as possible. You decide to distract yourself by making something quick and easy to eat. You survey the kitchen cabinets, stopping once you spot your favorite instant meal. It wasn’t nutritious, but it was tasty and filling. When you’re tired from working that’s all that mattered in your books. You hear a distant, shushed voice, and you think Geto may be on the phone. None of your business though, so you don’t dwell on it.

You begin prepping it for the microwave, popping it in as silently as your old device would allow. It would take awhile so you busied yourself by scrolling on your phone. It was mindless and self indulgent, you weren’t in the mood for thinking much. Just as you were really getting into your scrolling Geto is standing before you, quietly. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there but you hope it wasn’t long due to your less than flattering relaxed posture.

“Oh..Geto you surprised me. You’re really light on your feet.” It’s more than a whisper but less than your normal speaking voice. “Did I spook you? Toru always tells me I need bell when I surprise him like that.”

“I’ll have to agree with him, you’re really quiet. But umm..are you gonna go now?” The question sounds ruder than you intended it but Geto seemingly takes no harm from it. “Yes, I’ll be out of your hair soon. There’s something I wanted to ask you before I left though.”

You perk up as you face way from him, grabbing the hot food from the microwave. “Yes?” Your eyes are waiting, looking at him like he’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever came across. “What do you want with Satoru?” His eyes are dark, no longer that honey brown color that feels welcoming.

Geto hates to admit that he’s fighting visible glee once he sees your confused reaction. You’re so expressive, so obvious about whatever you’re feeling, it’s enthralling. It’s such a shame he’d only get to see you behave like this for a month, but things like this would make up for that short time frame. “I don’t want anything with him..I thought we were beginning to be friends.” You’re greatly lost on the implications his words carried. It’s not like you begged the man to pay for you. He offered, multiple times!

He stalks closer to you, til he’s flush against your stomach. He’s so close you could clearly smell his sandalwood scent. “Are you sure? Many people try to get close to him and I want to make sure you’ll be good to him.” His voice is low, no longer carrying that lightness it usually held. You attempt to back away from him, but the lower of your back is grabbed by his stealthily hand.

He keeps you against him, enjoying the contrast of your plumpness on his leanly defined stomach. You were real cute. Even cuter when you were panicked. “I…,”your eyes are looking all around, searching for anything other than his piercing ones,”wouldn’t do that. I’m not that kind of person.” He coos,”Are you? How are you going to prove that to me?”

Once more you keep your eyes away from him, but this time Geto can’t hold his tongue. He clutches your chin with his thumb and pointer,”It’s rude not to look at people when they’re talking to you, don’t you know that? Look at me.” He gives your chin a gentle tug that has warning strength behind it. A pleased smile graces his lips,”There we go. Now tell me, how are you going to prove that to me?”

Now staring into his eyes you’re forced to look at a desire that you can’t place. You’re shocked,frozen by his sudden shift. He’s calm but not in the relaxing sense anymore. He’s cold, calculated, as if he knows your every move. “I don’t know. Why are you doing this?” He shushes you, rubbing his thumb calmingly on your chin. “I told you why,silly. I have to make sure you’re going to be a good friend to Toru. You know he’s a very sentimental guy—I hate to see my friend hurt again.”

You did want to be Gojo’s friend and Geto’s despite this odd predicament he now put you in. Maybe he was joking..pulling your leg like most friends do. You’d like to believe that but his eyes told another story. Surprisingly, you’re shocked you’re not even more scared. Is it because he’s so handsome? Is it because you crave intimate relationships so badly you don’t care how you get treated? Perhaps it was both.

“I wouldn’t hurt him..I wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Your response is weak and Geto expected that. “Then show me. Make me feel like you’re a good friend.” You shake your head, confused on how to even do that in a short amount of time. “You know how to do that. Friends give each other favors. And you know what favor I want from you?”

“No.” Geto smiles wide and shiny,”I want a kiss from you. Show me you really care for your friends.” You didn’t want your first kiss to be with a barely known acquaintance. You always pictured it’d be with a loving boyfriend, a perfect one that accepted all your flaws. Not a man you welcomed in your dorm. “I can’t.” Geto’s grip on your chin tightens,”No? Why is it your first kiss?”

You’re too embarrassed to admit that is the truth. So you say nothing, neither confirming nor denying it. “Oh it is, huh? Even better to kiss your friend then. C’mon do you not think I’m attractive? I’ll be a good teacher.” Geto was far from unattractive and you both knew that. Would it be so bad to kiss a beautiful man that wants to do it first? It wasn’t how you wanted it but you were never put in a position of choosing any different.

“Okay, just one.” Your response is all he needed once you feel his lips on yours. It’s a gentle peck that soon turns into his tongue licking at your lips to open up. He pinches the rolls on your back for entry and he gets it. You’re clumsy and confused, your tongue jumbling with his. The kiss isn’t very enjoyable for Geto but that wasn’t the point of this. He wanted to see how far you’d really go if he’d asked. And you gave him the perfect response.

He did find pleasure in other things though. Your whines, your shut eyes that are clenched so tight, your hands gripping for life on his shirt. Too much pleasure it seems because he feels himself stiffen within his baggy pants. He pulls away with a satisfied expression,”You aren’t very good. But it’s okay, I’ll ask you for many more favors in the future.” He kisses your chubby cheek and lets go of the hold he had on you.

You’re wordless, shocked at what just happened. You just kissed one of the most popular guys at your university. And he asked first! It was obvious to you that Gojo spiel was a lie, an excuse to do this to you. But why? If he had just asked normally you would’ve folded no pressure. It was almost like he was trying to humiliate you.

“You’ll be a good friend to him…and me. Don’t be so scared next time, we’ll ask for things like this from you. It’s what friends do.” It was clear that you had a very different definition of friendship than Geto. But you didn’t mind.

Because if friendship with them meant you’d get kissed at random then you wouldn’t complain despite how his approach made you feel. This didn’t feel like a budding relationship though—it felt like a well connected trap and you were falling right into it.

Geto pats your shoulder,”Eat your food before it gets even colder. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You just stand there.

And he leaves. A wicked look pained on his face. You were in deep now. He’s got you even closer.

Lock.

Stock.

And barrel.

The next day Geto and Gojo were elated when they saw you dressed up for them. You weren’t wearing sweats nor your work uniform, instead you had your seemingly best outfit, one that complemented your features very nicely.

You had seemed casual at first, answering all their small talk with normal vigor. But every time Geto got even an inch closer to you you’d tense. It was so bad you would fumble your words and avoid eye contact. The memories of the night before haunting you greatly. You had dreams of more than just a kiss, that the hand on your lower back reached for something beneath, digging his smart digits into the malleable flesh. You felt guilty—perverted by your thoughts. He had asked to kiss you but not for anything more.

So every time he’d directly speak to you, your mind flashed to the all too real fantasy of him picking you up on the counter, hushing you while your roommate slept, relishing in the way you fell apart on his fingers. You were no stranger to many dirty dreams, often waking up in the middle night to ease the throb in between your legs. But those were all fictional, never even attainable. Geto is real though and it wasn’t right for you to think of him that way. He had kissed you. But as of now you’re still barely friends—it’s an unorthodox friendship, but still a friendship regardless of what occurred before it’s still nothing more.

And besides the reality of having a wet dream about your brand new friend, there was something else that was bothering you. The manner he went about asking for a kiss. It wasn’t worth the effort. The lip lock lasted about thirty seconds—you’d know you were counting it in your head. It went by just like that and suddenly you were no longer part of the never been kissed club. Something you put so much emphasis on was gone just like that, as if your whole dream of kissing the one could be nothing more than just that, a dream.

If it wasn’t worth the effort so why’d he try to conceal it behind a motive? . A silly one at that. Especially because of the rumors going on during lectures were true—Gojo wasn’t the one being wounded, he was the attacker. And Geto wasn’t any better. It felt like a game, one you would never have a chance of winning. That was your brain talking, the part of you that’s not trapped in their web quite yet.

Your heart, your body, on the other hand were just getting wound tighter and tighter. And soon you felt you’d be eaten whole. Yet, you couldn’t prevent the way you felt special within their gaze. Like you amuse them. Like you bring something to their life. Like you’re really needed. With every compliment, with every touch that hovered a little too long, with the way they looked at you like you’re the only thing that mattered in their orbit. It’s hard to use logic when they make you feel the way you craved all your life. So you let yourself melt into them, just a little bit. Just so little so you don’t get stuck in their gravitational hold.

That’s you how you end up leveled with Gojo’s built chest, his muscular arm dwarfing the one you’re using to stir the pancake batter. His grip is encasing your hand, refusing to let up no matter how many times you protested that this was a single person task. His voice tickles your neck, your back stiffens against him,”You’re a lot calmer now that Sugu went to shower, want to tell me why?” His voice is low and sultry. Just a hair off from being seducing.

You feel yourself hold back a shiver. You couldn’t lose your composure again. “I’m just a nervous person. I’m not used to hanging out with so many people.” It’s rushed, to prevent Gojo from stopping your half truth. “Is that right?” His grasp tightens, visibly to the point you see defined veins pop up on his bicep. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You push your back on Gojo, a poor attempt of pushing him away. You try once more and your efforts get rewarded with his giggles. “What’re you doin? Trynna run?” It’s teasing, too teasing for you to handle. You didn’t want to talk about the kiss. You didn’t want to reveal your urges, not when you’re finally making a connection, an odd one,but still it’s better than nothing. Right?

“No I’m just uhh..trying to get a pan. The batter is getting over mixed.” With that he releases you, but still hovers, as if he’d tackle you if you moved too far away. “You have a mouth, don’t you? Use it next time you want somethin’. “ The way he says mouth has you tensing. His tone sounding like he’s hinting at something. You don’t want to find out so you play coy. “Bottom cabinet, under the sink.”

He lets you off without a response to his demand. Relieving you greatly, your shoulders noticeably slumping back in normal formation. “Okay thanks.” You bend over to get a medium sized pan, trying to ignore his vigilant stare. What was going on with them? They were so normal before. Now..they were acting like they couldn’t wait to pounce. And pounce for what? You truthfully didn’t know.

You doubt this was their behavior to new friends. It was too confident, too authoritarian, too smooth. Any normal person would’ve never talked to them after the stunt Geto pulled last night. Any sane person would’ve fought Gojo harder with his insistence of closeness. But unfortunately, for your sake, you weren’t normal. You were lonely. Touchstarved and clingy to anything that would stick around for you. It’s shameful and you wish you weren’t so accepting of ill behavior. What would push you to say no? Would you even say no to them?

The thought makes you want to gag. It’s quickly wafted away when Gojo’s voice pulls you back to the present,”So are youuu going to put it on the stove or are you just gonna be staring at the wall?”

You apologize hurriedly and place the pan on the stove, turning the nob to medium heat. “We have to wait a bit for it to warm up.” Gojo nods, but he doesn’t really care for the making of the pancakes. His eyes scan your rigid person, lips quirking up in a ribbing way. “Have you been kissed before?”

It’s silent. Too silent. And you’re somehow even more tense than before.

“Why are you asking me?” Your voice is uneven, and you curse yourself for not having a better hold on your nerves. “I was just curious, you seem very shy so I wasn’t sure.” You want to feel relief once he says that but you don’t. It sounds like he knows more than he’s letting on.

“Oh well I don’t really like talking about things like that.” You pray that your answer is enough for him to back off and for now it is. “Alright, but I’ll know the answer sooner or later. Is it warm enough now?” He points to the pan and you dip your head yes in response. “It is, do you know how to get the perfect shape for pancakes? My job taught me this.”

He shakes his head and you beckon him over. You grab the glass bowl, pushing the ladle to the side he’s on. “I’ll teach you the best I can.” He takes hold of the tool,looking at you expectantly. “So you’re going to do a half scoop, it’s important you don’t fill it all the way.” He does so,”Like this?” You smile, pleased,”Yeah, just like that. Now place it as thin as you can onto the pan.”

He follows your instructions, grinning wide and prideful once he sees the perfected round shape. “Oh you’re a natural, took me a couple shifts to get that shape.” Your praise gets the reply of Gojo patting his chest,”I ammm pretty good at most things. If I say so myself.” You giggle,”Is having a big head one of those things?” As the words leave your mouth your hand slaps against it. You attempt to backtrack, hoping no offense would be taken.

But he doesn’t even let you have enough time to do that. “I get to have a big head, I can back up all my talk.” He steps closer to you,”Want me to prove that to you?” You begin hearing Geto’s words, reliving the day before that seems so close to this moment. You needed to avoid such banter, seeing how that is what you got you under Geto before.

“Uhh..you can prove it me by doing that again with the pancakes.” He backs off,”Bet, watch this.” He does a swirling motion leading to another perfect circle. To emphasize his point he follows that with two more. “Aren’t I so talented?” You smile,”So talented, I think you’re better than me right now.”

“The student always surpasses the master.” It’s cheeky. But that cheeky tone soon falters once the aroma of burning fills the kitchen. “Shit, I didn’t know they cook so fast.” Hurriedly, he grabs a flimsy spatula to flip his test pancake, wincing once he sees it charred on one side. But his efforts to stop the smoke are fruitless once the beeping of the smoke detector goes off.

You both cover your ears, grimacing at the loud noise. You go to grab a stray towel left on the counter, wafting it towards the source of the noise. “I think we need to work on your actual cooking skills after this.” Gojo makes a noise of agreement as he wafts the cloudy smoke with his hands.

Over the beeping there’s light footstep that could barely be heard. “What’re you two doing?” Geto’s voice pulls you from your focus and the moment you do pay attention , you wish you never did. Geto’s lean form is partially naked besides the fluffy garment he has wrapped around his waist. His inky damp hair is clinging to his forehead and the sides of his jawline. You could feel heat course through your body the longer you gaze at his chiseled body. You swallow a wad of saliva as you turn your head away, eyes held low to stare at your socks.

“We were making pancakes.” Gojo states. Geto huffs,”Yeah, I can smell that you burnt them.” Gojo gasps, offended,”How’d you know I burnt them? It could’ve been her.” You glare at him, his accusation distracting you from the task of getting rid of the smoke. Geto gives him a similar stare that has him retreating from his former words,”It was me..”

“Thanks for that captain obvious.” With a roll of his eyes Geto walks past you both, his damp chest bumping against your back as he does so. Effortlessly he fidgets with the smoke detector and soon enough it’s silent in the kitchen now. “I’m going to get dressed, please don’t set the kitchen on fire while I’m gone.” The last comment seemed like it was for Gojo when Geto gave him a knowing gaze.

He pads off and Gojo pouts, coming to you for comfort as he leans most of his body weight on you. Your breathing becomes labored and your hands are pushing on his chest,searching for less of his heft to be on your body. “G-Gojo, heavy…” you barely can get the words out when he wraps his muscular arms around you. His lips ghost against the skin of your neck as he speaks,”You don’t think I’m irresponsible,right?” His eyes, those beautifully blue eyes, look at you with such expectancy you could feel your breathing become even more laborious.

You’re trying to keep distance from his lips and yours, turning your head away from his as you comfort him,”No,not at all. You could never be that. You’re Satoru Gojo, I think you were born to be responsible.” This was true, he’s the future head of the wealthiest clan and a top student without his families influence. “Think so?” He gets nearer, his maw now inches away from your jaw. “Mhm, I do.” You’re still turned away from him, something Gojo doesn’t appreciate.

“Why do you always hide your face like that? If you really meant that you’d look at me. So c’mon, look at me.” His hold on your upper body grows tighter as he shifts his head to get a better look at you. With your inner lip being nibbled by your anxious lower teeth you stare at him head on, eyes already searching for something else to gaze at.

“Thereeee we go, I like seeing your face. You’re a real cutie. Now, say that again while looking at me.” You tense even more than you have the whole night. Stemming from his praise and his commanding words. It amazed you he thought you were attractive—he’s a Gojo after all. A man made with beauty that was almost unearth like. A man that could have any woman that took far better care of herself than you ever have in your life. And he still thinks you’re cute.

“I think you’re born to be responsible, you’re Satoru Gojo after all.” Your eye contact is shaky but he’s still pleased you’re looking at him directly. “Good job, was that so hard?” You shake your head no, not trusting your mouth to be coherent right now. The way he was talking to was so condescendingly sweet…and you enjoyed it. The heat you felt in your lower abdomen being a testament to that. Now that you’ve done as he asked, you think he’s going to get off but he doesn’t.

“Do you want a reward?” You felt like a well behaved dog with the way he talked to you, not that you minded. You were melting in the way he treated you like a pet, cooing at you with his perfect pink lips. “What would that be?” Your voice is uneven and breathless, speaking any louder would cause it to crack. “I’ll give you a kiss, I know you had one of those last night and I’ll take you shopping in a few days, have a game I want you to come to all dolled up for me.”

You knew it. You knew he was acting off. Geto must’ve told him right after it happened..or before if that’s who he was on the phone with in the bathroom. Was this planned? “Hey, get outta of your head and answer me.” He’s so near now his nose is bumping yours. “Do you want that?” His hands wander down to your ample hips, rubbing the fat that rests there. “I..don’t know.” A reply Gojo’s displeased with.

“Okay..you just need a little bit of convincing.” After he says that his lips lightly kiss your neck, curling up cockily as he hears your breath hitching at the contact. “What’re…..” your sentence remains unfinished as he continues peppering your neck, shushing your words. “ I’m convincing you and I want you to tell me if it’s working so,”he licks a long stripe on the length of your nape,”want me to kiss you?” Another lick,”Want me to take you to get dolled up for me? Wanna come to my game and cheer me on?”

You’re holding back any noises of pleasure, eyes screwing shut to hold that focus. “Hey..,”another light kiss,”answer me.” Shakily, you reply,”Yes.” You can feel his teeth on your neck with his wide smile,”Yes to what?”

“E-Everything.” At your confirmation his lips align perfectly with yours in a soft peck, leaving you disappointed when he pulls away. “Bonus, I’ll teach you to kiss real good right now. Sugu told me you didn’t really know how to do it last night, but don’t you worry I’m a better teacher than he is.” You’re embarrassed that your lack of skill and experience got spread to more than just one person but you can’t dwell on that when Gojo’s lips are so close to yours.

“You’re gonna start slow, no need to rush. I’m not going anywhere..” He pulls you in,lips moving unhurriedly,gentle and easy to pick up the pace. He simpers within the kiss,white teeth glimmering under the artificial light,”Good,just like that. Don’t change it.” You obey and Gojo rewards that with his tongue caressing your mouth.

His hold on your hips tighten,kneading the abundant flesh with seductive excitement. You hesitantly dart your tongue, mirroring his movements. He hums approvingly, hands moving with more fervor than before. He pulls away, breaking the saliva that’s chaining your lips together. “You did really good. You need more lessons though.” Gojo’s eats up the way you’re looking at him with wide eyes, mouth still agape, the sheen of saliva glittering on your bottom lip.

You look so shaken he almost feels bad. But how could he feel bad when you looked so wanton? This bet came from a source of boredom but he could be truthful enough to say he’s growing to genuinely like you. “Do I..?” He grins,”Yeah, I can give you another one right now.” He leans in,eyes watching as you await for him to touch you again.

“Having fun without me?” Geto’s voice snaps you out of your haze, head snapping to look at him. He’s now dressed, only wearing a pair of baggy black sweats and no shirt. What did you look like? Kissing him and his best friend so close in time,in THEIR home?! God, the embarrassment flows through your whole entire nervous system. You snuggle into Gojo’s chest, hiding in it to avoid confronting whatever this is.

The man you’re using as cover chuckles and places a hand on your head, petting it reassuringly. “Just returning the favor. You sure rubbed it in my face last night, didn’t you Sugu?” Geto walks closer until you could feel his front on your rear. You’re sandwiched between them, unable to go anywhere.

“I asked if I could before. Didn’t want to move alone, ‘sides looks like yours was more intense than what I got. That just isn’t fair..” You could feel Geto’s hand on your shoulder and it takes everything in not to flinch at the touch. “Stop hiding please, just want you to kiss me like you kissed him.” Slowly you raise your head and you’re met with a pleased smile,”That’s right,c’mere.” His light coo has you stepping closer to him but only so far because Gojo’s hold on you remains known.

He’s up close and he’s expectant,”Well? Are you gonna kiss me?” You look at Gojo, almost like you’re asking him for permission. This both amuses and pisses Geto off, he found it endearing that you were like a lost puppy but why ask Gojo for permission when he was the one asking? “You’re so rude.” He chides. “Looking at someone else when I’m waiting for you to kiss me. Would you rather kiss him,hmm?”

He now has his big paw on your lower jaw, squishing your face together. “N-No,want to kiss you.” Gojo laughs,”Didn’t know you could be so jealous Sug’, mad she thinks I’m a better kisser?” Geto makes an exasperated face that doesn’t match the honeyed tone he spoke with,”Now, don’t feel flattered someone so inexperienced likes yours, you’re closer to her level.” You didn’t know if you should feel offended for yourself or for Gojo, either way your opinion didn’t really matter.

Gojo scoffs,”Now you’re just lying. You know I’m not bad.” Geto smiles,”How ‘bout we ask you? If you’re honest I’ll make sure to treat you real good if you are.” You don’t know how it came to this point. You’re invited to make pancakes at their house and now they’re in some weird competition? You liked the attention and the kissing..but you also could feel your brain melting with all these new events happening like whiplash.

This was no longer a friendly hangout, it’s so much more and you don’t think you could handle much more. You wriggle your face from Geto’s hold and shove Gojo off with all your might, it barely moves him off and you’re speculating he he even did that because of the effort you put it into it. “Forget about that..what’s going on? Why are you both acting like this?” You’ve never been flattered like this with one person, let alone two. Especially by men so devastatingly good looking. Men that wanted to do things to you.

They acted under the guise of friendship to weasel their way in and it worked. But it’s obvious they want nothing platonic with you. The longer you surrounded yourself with them the more extreme things would get. “Acting like what?” Gojo asks. You motions with your hands, frustrated tone slipping from you,”This! I feel like a game for you two.” Possibly your suspicion grew from your experience in high school and even your early days here—men that were far up on the societal food chain would play games, humiliate you. As if being attracted to someone like you was a huge joke. The kisses, the banter they had about how far they could go with you, the flirting—it felt all too artificial.

It was too quick. So quick you didn’t know how you found yourself growing your newly gained kiss count to a second person. Geto and Gojo eye each other, hoping one then knew what to say before you have a bigger reaction. They had a feeling you weren’t dumb, you were gonna pick up on the escalation of the budding relationship. They had to think and fast, or else the silence might assure your speculations, which are correct. You are a game—they couldn’t let you know that quite yet. Or preferably at all.

Gojo speaks first,”I know this might sound crazy..but it’s something me and Geto both have a thing for.” Geto eyes him, trying to pick up what’s he’s laying down. “You see…we like sharing girls we both like, and it’s really rare when we do like the same one. So that’s why me and Geto said we wanted to be friends at first..we weren’t trying to scare you because two guys at the same time sounds intense. I—We..couldn’t control ourselves anymore. I’m sorry but please don’t stop talking to us,we really like you. I really like you.”

You search his features for any sign of untruthfulness, and he’s void of any. Matter of fact there’s tears teasing his lash line as his eyes look at you with a sense of groveling. But you couldn’t believe him quite yet, it was a good explanation, however it wasn’t enough to wave your accusations. “And you?” You give Geto a pointed gaze, awaiting his explanation. “I…I’m embarrassed to admit but we’ve been plotting to talk to you for a while. I knew you were Shoko’s roommate and thought you were so cute..and she told me you’re not really romantically involved with anyone. So we just tried to go about it the wrong way…but we really thought this would ease you into it.”

This left so many unanswered questions. Geto’s whole spiel last night, the library, it all seemed too perfectly aligned to be just a coincidence. As much as you craved attention from people like this you had to think soundly because you really didn’t want your heart broken. Shoko’s tales of her past few partners giving you nightmares about having a love life,despite all your want for one. “That doesn’t tell me anything…did you guys plan everything? Was any of this real?”

Geto didn’t know you were so sharp, he doesn’t know what he prefers more, your meekness or this? You seemed so eager, so naive. He thought they would go unquestioned by you..but he’s delighted he was incorrect. Maybe you are still naive though, enough he could take advantage of it. He just needed to get past your walls so you’d melt for them.

Gojo speaks again, this time really upping the tears in his eyes,”I promise when I saw you at the library I just saw an opportunity to talk to you. Nothing more. I wouldn’t have paid for you if I didn’t like you.” He steps closer to you, resting his hands on your hips once more,fingers digging in the doughy flesh with desperation. “Please..believe me. If not,one of us will drive you home no questions asked. We won’t even speak to you again.” This was all a lie,they had a bet to win. And they don’t lose. However, Gojo was confident you wouldn’t leave tonight.

To put more pressure on you Geto cuts in, embracing you from behind, words muffled into your shoulder,”Believe us, let us become more than your friends. I promise you won’t regret any of this.” You really hope that was true because your suspicions were wavering. Whether it was Gojo’s pleading eyes or Geto’s appealing embrace that aided you into trusting them—it worked.

“So what does this mean?” Gojo sighs happily, sucking up the congestion caused by his tears,” Means you got yourself two boyfriends now.” Geto adds on, peppering a smooch onto your shoulder,”Hope you don’t mind being shared.”

And you melted into their arms. Just letting yourself enjoy this moment. Even if you were wrong for trusting them you could look back at this and feel the warmth you’re feeling in your heart.

Happiness. So you let them coo their pillowy soft words,let them kiss you, let them coddle you.

This is all you ever wanted after all.

And with every action it’s like they knew that.

PHASE TWO: HOT AND HEAVY

It’d been approximately a week since you’ve got a boyfriend, well boyfriends and you weren’t really sure if things were supposed to be moving so fast. Since it had began something had…shifted.

They’d seemed normal once you agreed to trust them, as normal as a situation like this can make someone look. They were sweet and gentle. Spoiling you in their own ways. Gojo would take you shopping, give you things you couldn’t even pronounce the name of, provide you with a ride anytime of the day. He has a knack for dressing you up in clothes he thinks you look nice in—usually leading you into wearing attire that showed much more skin than you were used to.

And Geto pampered you in a different manner. Whilst Gojo had everything materialistic at his finger tips, Geto was more down to earth. He’d give you cute notes,send you something that’d reminded him of you, help you with your school work, recommend you things that were similar in a heartbeat. And every time he’d do so he had this look on face that was all knowing, like he knew everything about you.

Though they differed in their way of treating you, they had one thing in common. Both their niceties came with a price, an unsaid one. You quickly learned this when the shopping trip for Gojo’s game came soon after the relationship began, he had adorned you with the finest clothing, spewing sentences like his girl had to look the best for him and be dressed in the nicest fashion money could buy. Despite your denial of such treatment he’d hush you every time, telling you this is what good boyfriends do.

And then he quickly followed up with,”If you really wanna pay me back though, get in the car and lay down on the backseat.” He had gotten on top of you, long body resting a top of yours, his maw wandering about on your soft skin. He kissed you wildly, his hands finding comfort under your shirt, squeezing and kneading the pudge you had on you.

He had asked you if you wanted this, if you wanted him to show you how good girlfriends treat their boyfriends. You were silent for a bit, taking weight of what could possibly happen if you said yes. And ultimately you agreed, partially excited for another new experience and partly guilty for all the money he spent on you in just one shopping spree.

The minute you agreed Gojo was on a mission. Lifting up your shirt with haste, hushing you when you got shy beneath him. You had thought he was going to fondle you, feel you up a bit more than he had in the past. But you were mistaken once you saw his dick free from his pants, achy and hard against his abdomen. “What’re are you going to do?”

He cooed,”Just takin my payment. Now, stay still for me, don’t let that pretty face move.” You had expected for him to put it in your mouth, fuck it til you’re gagging and teary eyed but he didn’t. Instead his hunched over frame moved to the side of you, his dick towering above your face, veiny and pretty just like him.

He slapped it down on your cherubic cheek, groaning as you whined at the impact. His throbbing length adjusted completely flat on the plain of your face, his thumb holding the girthy thing taut against the warming skin. Then you felt it, the thick wad of saliva glide on his cock, the excess of it dripping on your cheek. With his free hand he rubs the self produced lube on your face, making it sure it’s smooth enough to glide on.

And he started to hump the side of your face, cocky grin plastered on his own, only breaking when he couldn’t hold a moan in. And he ate up every second of you being so shocked and wide eyed, lips slightly ajar, attempting to find anything to say.

And you took the hour long event. It lasting so long because Gojo paced himself so well, halting the moment he felt himself coming to his end. He taunted you, mushed your boobs together with his lone paw so hard you could feel the blooming bruises grow, slapped your clothed pussy a couple times when he saw you rubbing your legs together. Stating,”It’s my payment, you don’t get to have fun.”

When he finished, his spent plastered all over your plump face he had kissed the crown of your head, voice soft with praises.

And every time you had to pay him back for his treatment, he’d always end with that.

Geto on the other hand…you were experiencing presently. And it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’re nervous. With Gojo he’d always ask for different things from you—a thigh job, a butt job, a boob job, watch him jerk off etc.

But Geto was consistent, less spontaneous than his counterpart. It’d always end up with you in the same position, on your hands and knees, all fours, panties off and your mouth opened awaiting for his dick to enter.

Throat training,he’d call it. He said if you had two boyfriends you’d have to know how to suck real good and he’d make sure he’d teach you real well. You knew that’s the formation you’d quickly be in. You regretted agreeing for him to tutor you because afterwards you’d always have to be pay the charge.

You tried to cancel on him today , tried to make every excuse under the sun. But Geto pushed, stating no person he was dating would be at risk for failing any of their classes.

He places the pencil down, kind smile adorning his lips,”Do you get it now?” You nod, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, preparing for what’s to come. “Good I’m really proud of you for picking it up so quick. You learn really fast.” His hand reaches for your bare thigh, palming it with a reasonable force. “Thank you Ge—Suguru, I’m really trying.”

“I could see that. Aren’t you a smart girl? Say yes.” It falls from your lips quickly,” Yes.” Geto gives your leg an approving pat,”Does my smart girl want a kiss for all her hard work?” You nod,leaning close to him. He closes the distance, low and slow, digits digging into the softness of your thigh.

He begins sucking on your tongue, holding back a smirk as your eyes grow wide at the new sensation. His other hands cups your lower jaw, caressing the undefined curve. He pulls away,looking pleased with you. “Take off your clothes and get into position.”

You obey like a pet threatened with the voltage of a shock collar. Though you didn’t have a physical one, there was something metaphorically around your jugular. It took one time to learn that there wasn’t such thing as saying no to them. It’d always be bombarded with coaxing, guilt tripping words sharp at the edges—threats of what would happen if you weren’t a good girlfriend to them.

And it worked so well because you were afraid of being lonesome again. They doted on you,spent days of their time dedicating to you—and you dare refute their small requests? They didn’t have to say it, they’re actions spoke loud enough,”Someone like you should be happy they’re even touching you, giving you the time of day they could spend with people on their level.”

So, you’re waiting for Geto to make his move. Ass perched out, arch low and groveling, the way he taught you to. He circles you like a shark marking for it’s time to strike, his hand darts out to take an abundant handful of your ass, molding the flesh with a sense of appreciation you hear rumble from his chest. “You’ve gotten so good at this—you seem to be adjusting quite well to everything. I think you need to be rewarded for that.”

In one full motion Geto sinks his fingers into your unaware cunt, halting as the mid part of his two digits dipped in. He lets out a low whistle,”Oh you’re wet, huh?” You whine at the insertion, ass wiggling to make some form of further movement. “Greedy too.” He chuckles as he begins curling his fingers into the warm hole. Face coated with a sense of hubris he always gained from seeing you like this.

He stops once again, pulling his fingers out until just the tips are barely in.”If you want me to continue, you have to say you want me to finger you or we could go straight to training and you get nothing.” You cringed thinking of the suffocating feeling, throat full and head pushed down in an inescapable hold. Nose nudging against his clean shaven pelvis. You bark out,”Please, want it.” For extra measure you attempt to throw your ass back onto his digits, pushing them in a little bit farther than just the tips.

“Want what?” He taunts. “Your fingers—,” your breath hitches as he slides them in deeper,”haaa in me.” He’s pleased with that. His fingers now entering you fully, knuckles deep, stretching the wounded muscle uncomfortably so. You were used to your own stout and pudgy ones, becoming greatly familiar with them on one of your many lonely nights. But this—oh god this, his smart digits were so long, reaching those soppy you could have never dreamed of grazing before.

“See how you get good things when you use your words?” His words were a reminder of what happens when you don’t. The first time he’s ever expected payment back and you were in for a world of trouble. You had argued, stating you weren’t ready for something so fat and oh so long to slide in your unused throat. And you became silent, disobedient, holding your mouth shut and taut even though the tip of his dick tapped on it with politeness.

And you had been reminded you weren’t the one with power. They are. He is. In every sense of the word, they made more money than you, had more societal regard, more strength. Which you felt the magnitude of as his punishing hand slammed down onto your bare ass, slapping without care, rough and heavy until you were brimming with tears and apologies. And the spanking wasn’t the worst of it—the actual part of him abusing your mouth was. He had no pity for you as he heard you gagging, drool coating your chin, eyes rolling back with discomfort. And his pace was relentless, his hands on either side of your head with a stubbornness that was unbreakable. This was a lesson—listen or receive the consequences.

But like this, with his fingers deep in you, purring soft praise into your room, gentle kneading touches of your ass—you enjoyed this form of payment, greatly. With his extremities still tautly bound in your warmth Geto levels his groin to your face, unbuckling his belt, his unfitted pants lowering to his hips as they’re no longer held up. And his bulge was waiting for your mouth to ease the throbbing constricting against his plain colored briefs.

With his pants unbuttoned he instructs you,”Pull it down, nice and slow.” As if he wanted to make the task difficult for you, his fingers curl niceee and deep in your pussy, almost touching that special spot within. Your back straightens out and soft ohhhh falls from you. With unsteady hands you reach for the material, moaning as the up and down motion damn near took control of your senses. As best paced as you could, you languidly slide down his undergarment, stopping once his dick sprang out, hard and proud, smacking on his clothed abdomen.

With just his captivating honey brown eyes he directs you to begin sucking. “No hands, just your mouth.” He demands. And you follow, leaning your mouth close enough until you could taste his salty pre cum on your taste buds. You hollow out your cheeks to the best of your abilities, your sounds of pleasure vibrating on the beginning of his length.

He hums, digging his exploring fingers even deeper, cooing at you as you let out a particularly loud yelp, the sensation going straight to his cock. He thrusts up, eyes shutting in pleasure when you swirl your tongue around his base. “G-Good jobbb, yeah, just like that. You’re doing s-so hahh good.”

Your focused eyes shut in determination. Bobbing your head up and down, sucking harder as you hear his sounds of gratification echo in the room. Your efforts are rewarded with a delicious curve of his extremities sloshing the noises of your wetness tauntingly.

Squelch, squelch! Paired with the wet pops and the clicking of his tip hitting the back of your throat. Bucking forward, his pelvis pushes against your face. His hand caresses your face, eyes now open with affection you’ve never seen before.

“You look so cute like this.” He pinches the pudgy flesh of your cheek, admiring the way it stretched to accommodate the mass of him.

“Keep looking at me like that, don’t shut those eyes—look how good you’re making your boyfriend feel.” He brushes away a tear creeping down your face, contradicting the sweet action with a deeep buck he did within your mouth, dick nice and snug in the vastest confines of your esophagus.

“Such a good girlfriend t-to—fuck, me.” To pair with his praise he flicks up with a greater haste than before. Eating up the way you struggled to keep sucking with his determined efforts. You had your brows pinched with concentration, drool traveling down from your chin to the floor below, and your eyes—oh god your eyes. Teary and fighting to stay open, to be obedient to his words.

“If I make you cum would that help you stay focused more? Hmm, want that?” He nods your head for you, moving it up and down with a choppy chuckle. “I-If you say soo..” he jerks his extremities upwards to the tallest parts of your constricting walls, the tips of the digits massaging oh so well that you can’t maintain being so dutiful any longer.

Your mouth makes a resounding popping sound as you finally come up for air. A high pitched whine falls from you, lids reluctantly shutting despite your best endeavors to keep them open as Geto had requested— but the pleasure was all too consuming.

Your head flops onto Geto’s thigh, mouth agape and letting out the prettiest sounds for the proud man above you. You had expected Geto to chide you, for not listening to him, for doing something he didn’t direct you to do. Instead of that unfolding, his hand resting on your cheek thumbs the plumpness, stroking it comfortingly. He gazed at you with a new emotion he never had before—something so heartwarming it almost distracted you from his fingers wading in your pussy.

The gaze remains so soft and tender, his voice reflecting the same sentiment,”You really are so cute. Even cuter when you’re coming undone on my fingers.” At the moment you feel a coil unfasten in the depths of your belly, a loud keen echoing in the room. You’re unsure if it was his words that led you to your release or the way he particularly caressed your walls in that moment, but the why didn’t matter when you felt so good.

With your cum on his fingers, creamy and shiny, he pulls out of you. Raising them to his lips, he sucks on them til they’re anew, clean and spotless of what had just transpired. “I bet your throat hurts, I’ll give you a rest today.” You’re speechless. This was new. Geto had never let you stop when he was training you prior. It was confusing, his cock was still hard and achy, pearly pre sticking to his shaft. So why stop you?

There’s a tenderness you hadn’t seen of him since he became one of your boyfriends. He was always methodical, planned, and seemingly less fond of you than Gojo was. But at this time that all seemed like a false perception of him. Gojo had always teased you, joked with you, and never let you have a dull moment with him. With Geto he always seemed to like you less than Gojo —but that had to be lie with the way he’s acting now.

Wordlessly, he picks you up, you gasp at the lack of struggle and you don’t even get to protest once you feel yourself bounce back on the softness of your mattress. His stare is worshipping, pupils dilated in absolute revere of your naked form. You don’t know what had switched within but you weren’t complaining, anything to not lose your voice again. “Why are being so..different?” Your voice trails off, quietly awaiting his response.

What had changed in Geto? He always saw you as means of entertainment, just a week ago, he schemed for you to be bending at his will. He didn’t like you. He didn’t care for you. He didn’t even find you that interesting—at first. He thought you were going to be easy, to an extent you were, however he’s grown to like the sides of you he’s seen so far. And he’s grown to feel a sense of protectiveness over you, he views you as weaker than him and Gojo, and he believes the strong must protect the weak.

With every second you looked at him with awaiting eyes, ready to please him, ready to make him happy —ready to do whatever he said just to keep him in your life. That was weak. And Geto grew pity for you that than turned into this new fondness he’s finally became aware of. He had found you difficult to talk to at first, your umms and uhhhs were off putting. And he had looked down at you for that, but now he loves hearing you prattle on in that awkward manner you usually do. He had found the fact that you were so easy to get flustered because it was entertaining to get you worked up, now he finds it so endearing and cute when it happens naturally.

He told himself he’s only forced this proximity for the bet and he doesn’t harbor any affection for you, yet in the short seven days since he’s gotten to know you he’s quickly been hooked. There was something about you he found so..adorable, from your quirks to the way you fiddled with your fingers when nervous—how you depended on him and Gojo. How much they mattered to you in this short time frame. It was wrong to take advantage of your circumstance, of your want for companionship, but he’s glad he could have you like this. Regardless of the bet—he had actually grown to really like you.

So although he remained slightly sadistic he felt more urges to treat you like this—to worship you like a beautiful doll, like you’re actually his girlfriend he met under different circumstances. “I guess…I realized I was being too harsh to you. I’m sorry.” His words hit like iced water. You hadn’t thought he was mean to you in particular.. just detached and much more far removed compared to Gojo. But it was still nice to hear that he’d be more open now.

“It’s okay…but I like you this way. I like when you’re sweet to me.” You say softly. He smiles and leans forward, giving the crown of your head a peck that lasted a couple seconds. He pulls away,”Then let me worship you. Let me gaze at you so I finish myself off—just sit there and look pretty for me.” His words surprised you but still you obeyed, eyes watching as he spat onto his hand.

He then wraps it around the expanse of his cock, observing your plump form with eagerness. He strokes himself, nice and slow, always going all the way down to his base and then back up to the very peak of his tip. His gaze makes you self conscious, it feels like he’s looking through you, eating away at you with his watchfulness. But you don’t hide yourself instead you display your most personal part to him. Spreading your legs wide and proud for him to see your shiny pussy, feeling happy when he groans at the sight.

“She’s so pretty—you’re so pretty.” He groans, nipping on his lip to keep from not yelling. “Spread her open for me,yeah?” With two hesitant fingers you spread the fatty lips, body heated at the action. “Mmmm,look she’s winking at me.” You nearly shut your legs at his words, greatly embarrassed at your pussy convulsing around nothing.

Already knowing how you felt, Geto doesn’t hesitate to console you,” S-Shit—I like that though—haaa fuck, keep her saying hello to me.” With a hearty growl Geto collapses right in front of your parted legs, his mug so close you could feel his strained breathing cooling your molten core.

He eyed your pussy like it was the Mona Lisa, as if it was one of the 7th wonders. His pace quickens and Geto grits his teeth together, forcing his eyes to stay open, he couldn’t miss looking at such a pretty sight. You weren’t a conquest any longer to him—this wasn’t to tease you for your lack of experience this was because he enjoyed you. All that planning and scheming was for nothing because he’s the one wrapped around your finger tightly. How could he not? He’s ashamed to say his resolved dwindled quite fast.

He rests his head on your inner thigh, gracing the skin with little kisses when his sounds of pleasure didn’t take over his mouth. He grabs the pudgy limb,digging his fingers in to get a better hold of himself. He was close, oh so close. “T-Thank you,” he lays a peck on one of your lips,”you’re such a good girlfriend.” His eyes clamp shut and a small bead of sweat streaks down his temple,his maw finds asylum in your leg, silencing his groan into the abundant flesh.

He arises, his hand painted a creamy white. He’s sitting on his knees and he slots his clothed body on your naked one, settling down to rest on your soft middle. “Do you mind cleaning me up?” He quietly asks, lifting his hand nearer to your maw. You shake your head no and begin lapping up his seed, focused and efficient. As you clean Geto narrates,”I have class in thirty minutes ..a shame I wanted to watch that show you’ve been telling me about. I’ll tell Toru to keep you company once I leave, how does that sound, hmm?” You don’t miss the way your heart hammers against your chest at the mention of the show—you had told him about it a couple days ago in a offhanded conversation, never expecting him to care enough to recall. He cared enough about your interests.

During this week you were suspicious you were some type of plaything for the duo. But Geto especially had shown you there’s care in this. It gave you relief that you were wrong. You halt your grooming to reply,”I’d like that, a lot. What’re you going to do then…before your lecture?” You ask right before you get back to licking his digits. Geto smiles lazily,”I’m going to stay here with you, hold you while I can.” To emphasize his point he nuzzles his face in your neck, exhaling comfortably on the skin.

You give one final lap of his once soiled hand and place it down, grinning at this softness he’s never shown you before. Despite this being a full week of dating it felt like a lifetime for you and you’re beyond glad you reached the point in said lifetime where things felt domestic between you and Geto. You never encountered that feeling with Gojo, that man was overly familiar from day one, there was no being distant from him no matter the amount of time knowing him.

With his hand now cleaned Geto embraces both his arms around your ample waist, placing you in a tight bear hug. You reach out for his long black locks, running your fingers through the silky strands. “Sugu..do you actually like me?” He hums,”Of course I do, I wouldn’t be dating you if I hadn’t. What a silly question.” You always thought something was a matter with you prior. There had to be if you had no close connections in your life, so it’s nice to be told you really are liked by somebody. “Okay, that makes me happy. I..like you too.”

He laughs,” I know you like me. But aren’t you sweet for telling me..now stop asking me silly questions and let me get some rest before my terrible lecture.” You chuckle lightly,”Okay, M’sorry, I’ll let you get some rest.” As thanks he places a chaste kiss on your neck before he shuts his eyes. He couldn’t help but hide his amusement at your question, if only you knew how much he really had grown to like you. You were just a bet, yet with him resting oh so domestically a top of you his mind can’t help but think of coming home to you like this everyday. Making you cum with his body, having you soft and pliant for them. You wouldn’t have to work that job that hardly pays you anything, you could just rely on him, them, to take care of you. He really did think you are a good girlfriend, and the thought of this ending after a short month had him clutching you even tighter.

As you pet his head, each pat lulls you into comfort. Your eyes grow to feel low and heavy. Your breathing slows and slowly your mind isn’t racing,letting yourself melt into a solace you’ve been longing for.

Sleep.

When your eyes open you’re greeted with snowy white hair, not vanta black. And you’re placed in a different position then before, laying on your side with tickles of hair follicles on your nape. You attempt to get up to observe your surroundings but you’re prevented by a strong arm around your side.

You sigh and take in what you can from your spot. The sun had went down so it must be well into the night. How long did you sleep for? “Oh,you’re finally up. How’d you rest?” Your ears hear Gojo and you remember Geto saying he’d come over once he left. It was sweet of him not to wake you. “I slept really good..better than I have in a while.” Now that you’re aware your eyes take in Gojo and you realize he’s bare of a shirt, then your eyes scan lower and realize he’s bare of everything.

“Wait..why are you naked?” Your tone comes out accusatory, already scared of what could’ve happened in your sleep. Gojo pouts,”Why do you always think I’m the creepy one? I just wanted to have skin to skin contact with you.” Your brows furrow in confusion,”So you got naked cause I’m naked??” He nods with a dopey grin on his face,”Yup, I wanted to hold you like you were. Is that too crazy?”

Gojo was interesting to put it plainly but you didn’t mind that about him. So you shrug off the oddity and lean closer to his unclothed chest, learning questioning him would just lead to further curiosity and your newly awaken brain couldn’t handle that right now. “How long was I out for?” Gojo takes your face in his hand,cradling it,”Three hours or so, Sugu told me you were exhausted so I never thought of waking you up.”

You cuddle further into his chest, an action greatly welcomed by Gojo. He’d glad you’re not so shy around him anymore, you’re much more familiar now—your personality shining in a way he couldn’t see before. He liked you already when he saw you being all shy in the library but that was purely because you seemed like the perfect plaything for the bet. But now, he really does admire you. He genuinely likes spending his time with you, even cutting class to come hold you while you slept. He can’t put his finger on what changed in just a week, however he liked that he grew softer towards you.

Maybe he could talk to Suguru to see if the bet could be noid and null? He likes being your boyfriend, likes the way you pout and check on him when he’s being reckless, likes the way you giggle and snort at his jokes, likes the way you fluster and bend so easily for him, likes how much you genuinely care for him and Geto. It was consuming his heart, his brain, something about you was so addictive. And it was so hard to place because you’re so plain. There’s nothing inherently special or unique about you, yet he feels addicted to you.

It was wrong to take advantage of someone so drained of human connection but he’s glad he took the bet. He had to be,with the way you looked so thankful for him,snuggled into him at your most vulnerable. He caresses your face, speaking soft and low in a way he knows makes your heart jump, “How about I take you out tonight? You dress up real nice for me and we eat our hearts out.”

Your smile is the reaction he was looking for, bright and wide, the lines on the sides of your mouth being displayed proudly. “Really? But are you sure it’s not too late to go anywhere?” Gojo shakes his head,”Trust, it’s barely eight, and after all I can go anywhere no matter the time. So about you get your pretty self out the bed and get ready to go?”

The white haired man stands up, cock sitting arrogantly on his abdomen and he notices your eyes widen at this. “Don’t judge,you’re naked and you’re my girl. Can’t blame me for getting excited. Anddd you don’t even have to take care of this, just focus on getting ready and I’ll handle everything else.

And he wasn’t lying, he really did handle everything. Within thirty minutes he was groomed even handsomer, dawning a nice dress shirt that just oozed wealth, matched with pants and shoes that reflected the same exact thing. He had even helped you with your outfit, choosing a nice dress that accentuated your figure nicely, hugging all the nice curvy bits beautifully. He had reservations in an instant to some restaurant too fancy to pronounce the name of. The last thing he had to do was assist you with your shoes.

He slides the expensive shoe he had bought for you onto your foot with a care you didn’t knew he felt for you. With a kiss to your ankle he buckles the connecting loop,”You look so beautiful—you are beautiful.” You feel yourself heating up at his words. You felt like Cinderella, once a poor pauper who had no one, now a princess with two charming princes that seemed to really like her. “Thank you Toru.”

He smiles,”I like hearing that name from you. Now c’mon we already have reservations.” Walking out of your room, hand in hand, only to be halted by Shoko, cigarette in her hold. “Going somewhere?” She asks. You reply happily,”Toru’s going to take me to dinner, I promise I’ll be quiet when I come back in the dorm.” Shoko has a look on her face that’s unreadable to you, but not to Gojo, his eyes having a conversation with her.

You don’t get to ask what’s it about as Gojo sends you away,”Go to the car for me, I’ll be right there. I think Shoko wants to talk to me real quick.” You nod and say your goodbye to Shoko, being weirded out by her tight lipped smile as you left.

Gojo steps forward, strutting to the couch Shoko often finds herself on. “Why are you looking at me like that?” The man asks. “You know why Satoru, you’re playing with her.” He rolls his blue eyes,”I was…but I really like her now. I’m even thinking about calling off the bet.” She scoffs,”The fact you said thinking instead of going to is enough for me to tell you to fuck off. Look—I told Suguru the same thing when he left earlier, if you don’t stop flaunting her around like she’s this week’s best toy I’m going to tell her.”

“Why are you getting in our business now? You always say you don’t care about what we do as long as we don’t drag you into it so what’s new? You even helped us out way more than you should’ve—so you feelin guilty now?” Lighting her cigarette,she begins,”I do feel bad, yeah. I thought this would be a quick thing like it usually is for you two, but you’ve been around here for three weeks and the longer you pretend you care about her the more I know it’ll hurt once she finds out what you both are.”

Gojo could feel his jaw clench. “I’m not pretending shit. I do care for her and so does Suguru, you can’t tell us what we feel.” Shoko scoffs,”Oh I don’t, huh? I’ve known you since high school, I know how you both get bored. And I watched and stayed silent when you did that to others but with her..I can’t. Not when she tells me how happy she is, how nice it is to finally be able to experience romance. She deserves something real—not two immature boys doing this for a stupid fucking bet.” The man before her opens his mouth to speak but he’s quickly cut off with Shoko’s sharp words.

“And you’ve only fully gotten to know her for what? A week…maybe more? What happens after a week? Hmm? What happens after a couple months? What happens after a year? What happens when you’re done with her and throw her away like all of your other playthings? You’re not going to have to see her that way—I am. So think of that when you’re playing boyfriend and taking her out.” Gojo could feel his rage seep into his veins, his eyes growing wide and deranged.

“It’s true, I am used to throwing people away. I could have anyone and anything easily. But…she’s different, I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone in a really long time. Especially in such a short amount of time. So you don’t get to threaten me or Suguru when you don’t get the situation fully. Next time I want someone’s unsolicited opinion on what I’m doing, I’ll go to a therapist. Now if you excuse me—I have to take my girlfriend to dinner.”

Shoko can’t get another word in before the slam of the door is heard. Gojo’s angry footsteps were audible all the way down to the car. He opens the door looking flushed, his teeth clenched tautly and his brows furrowed together. You’re buckled up in the passengers seat looking lost as ever. “Did something happen between you and her?” Gojo slides in the drivers seat, clicking in his seat belt with a fake smile,”Yeah don’t worry about it though. It’s just a disagreement among friends.”

You were curious, undoubtedly so, but the crazed look in Gojo’s eyes told you now was not the time to pry. “Uhh okay..let’s just go then. I hope you’ll feel better after we eat.” When arriving at the restaurant Gojo is acting way calmer, he’s already cracking jokes again when he opens the door for you. The hostess doesn’t even have to ask where the both of you are seated once she sees Gojo’s once in a life time blue eyes.

It’s crazy to you how he was treated with such revere by so many people. So much so that they wouldn’t even ask who he was, they just could look and tell he was a Gojo. “Woah, do people do that to you often?” You ask, amazed. “Do what—ohh, well yeah pretty much. A perk and a curse of being born totally awesome.” You chuckle,”I think more of a curse, I’d hate for so many people to recognize me in public.”

Gojo pulls out your chair,”Not all of us could be made for the limelight sweetheart.” Sweetheart, the nickname made you feel nice inside. You take the seat, smiling at him in thanks. “I guess you’re right, but you and Suguru sure are. I saw you both modeling for our sports team—oh wait speaking of that, isn’t your game coming up soon?” Gojo answers with a smile,”Trust me modeling is not all that—there’s so many mean people and they’re always crabby. But actually my game is tomorrow so you have to wear that outfit I got you.”

The outfit appears in your mind, short skirt that almost has the bottom of your butt poking out, and frilly top to go along with it. You could not be caught dead wearing that in front of so many people. Gojo was barely doable for you. “ I can’t wear that, it doesn’t look good on me.” Gojo voices his confusion,”Why not? You look so sexy and cute in it. It’ll help me play better too. You rooting for the other side or something?”

“No, it’s just umm..I’m well,me. And you already know you’re going to win the game so don’t even try to use that as an excuse.” Gojo sighs,”Mmm,how about you wear it for me after the game? Let me see you do a couple tricks in it before I take it off you.” You heat up at the implication,”Gojo! Don’t say stuff like that we’re in public.” The man bellows a loud laugh,”You’re my girlfriend, what I can’t think about my celebratory plans? I haven’t even gotten into what me and Suguru have been planning to do to you tomorrow. And stop calling me Gojo, you were doing so well before, calling me Toru and everything.” He finishes off with a pout his magnetic eyes pouring into you.

“I’m sorry—Toru, but really don’t say stuff like that here. I swear people can hear you.” Gojo’s voice gets real low,”What if I want them to hear me? You look so pretty I have to let everybody know you’re being taken care of at home.” You bite your inner cheek, avoiding eye contact with him. Why’d he have to say things like that? Why’d he make you feel so unimaginably warm? He chuckles,”Alright I’ll quit, I can see you’re overheating over there. How about you focus on what’re you’re gonna get while I head to the bathroom real quick?”

He steps away from the table with his phone in hand, with a look on his face that didn’t mirror his cheery tone. “Promise I‘ll be back real soon. Get whatever you want and don’t even dare look at the price for anything.” With the thick menu in between your fingers you let out a confused,”Uhh..sure?”

Your eyes glance down to the many options available, ranging from finely cut pufferfish to A5 wagyu. And all options ended in zeros..you see why Gojo told you not to look at prices. This just serves as a reminder how far removed you are from his and Geto’s world. There’s been times this semester you couldn’t even afford a ramen from a convenience store and now here you are, reading a menu that has above hundreds of dollars food. He made you feel like Cinderella but the tale always ends with the clock striking twelve.

When would your time end? They like you now, they’re sweet and giving, and spoil you to the point you don’t want for nothing anymore—but it’s only been a week of dating. Eventually the novelty of dating someone like you would wear off, their opposite. The thoughts alone bring an ugly coil building up in your tummy.

You couldn’t think of it like that though, you just had to let yourself savor this, even if it’s temporary. It’s the life you yearned for as a little girl watching those corny romcoms, a knight in shining armor arriving to take you away from the horrors of the world. And you even have two. You may be a lonely girl dressed up for one night at the ball but you’d enjoy it with every fiber of your being.

Gojo arrives back to the table with an expression that looked more pleased compared to when he left. You chirp out,”Who’d you have to call?” The man smiles,”Sugu,I was asking if he’d be home before we came back from dinner.” That may be true but when he left to excuse himself there seemed to be something much more that needed to be addressed. You don’t comment on it, what he wants to tell you is his business. “Oh I’m not going to my dorm right away?”

“Nahhh, you’re staying the night with us and don’t worry, I bought all your favorite hygiene products already.” He said it so matter factly one could think he had asked you before but he hadn’t. They never really ask about what you want to do, they plan it and you just follow their orders. And how did Gojo know your favorite hygiene products? That would be normal for any longer term relationship but this is a very very very short term one so far. And this doesn’t just happens with hygiene products—favorite movies, favorite shows, favorite foods you have never mentioned, or even the specific manner you liked certain things.

It was like they studied you down to a T, and you’re still uninformed about so many of their likes and dislikes. It gave you a weird feeling..but part of you really enjoyed how much insight they had. Jokingly you comment,”What if I wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” Gojo replies with a cool smile on his lips,”Our bed is your bed. Whattt, you don’t wanna sleep with your boyfriends now?” He leans in real close,hand reaching over for yours,”You’re asking like you’ll say no to us.”

That hit deep,for some odd reason. You hadn’t really disagreed with them before, always obedient and easy going with whatever they had in store for you. It became so easy for you to do that, the inner fear of the their affection for you to be wafted away almost always dictates your response to them. And you know it’s because you’re so very lonesome. But despite knowing that you kid yourself,”Maybe I won’t say yes one of these days.” Gojo lights up,”You won’t,” his tone heavy and confident,the air in the room only lightening up when he adds,”I’m too handsome to say no to after all.”

You laugh and stop once your waiter arrives asking for the orders. You had no clue what you wanted, the prices on the menus distracting you from your budded appetite. The waiter looks at you first, expectantly, and your eyes go to Gojo, begging for his assistance. He gives you a reassuring nod and rubs comforting circles onto your pudgy knuckles,”We’ll get everything on the menu,”he swivels his head towards your direction,”don’t say anything. I’m already doing it.”

Your lips were already open to protest but they quickly shut. The waiter looks thrown off as well but he just bows dutifully and informs that he’ll be back with the food soon. As he leaves you can’t keep quiet anymore,”Satoru, you know we can’t eat all that! And think about how much money you’re wasting.” Gojo scoffs, he has more money than he’ll ever need in his lifetime, he could purchase several countries and still not have a big dent in his net worth. How cute that you were worried about that.

“Relaxxxx babe, you seemed like you couldn’t decide so I wanted to make it easier for you.” He adjusts to his chair to be right next to you, the across position not cutting it for him anymore. “C’mon don’t be pouty with me, I just like taking care of anything you could possibly want.” And take care of you he did, the moment the food arrived Satoru began shoveling decadent meals down your throat—voice soft and cooing, his hand ready to wipe any food that smudged on your pudgy little cheek.

He hardly fed himself, his hands only being there to act as your own, the extremities gently slapping away your determined paws, defending himself by stating,”I’m your boyfriend, I should take care of you like this.” Boyfriend or caretaker—you couldn’t tell anymore. With him acting this way it was beginning to muddle the line of caring or overbearing. The more he began to rid you of your independence the harder it was to differ if this was normal.

And you rationalized his behavior, thinking that it’s because you’ve never had a relationship, this had to be normal, otherwise he wouldn’t do this so openly. He just cares for you. He only stops feeding you when your eyes sag low, posture poor , and your jaw too tired of chewing. “If I eat anymore I’m literally going to explode.” Gojo hums, satisfied with himself,” That means I fed you enough then.” You side eye him,lips pursing,”You fed me too much, that’s what you did. I don’t think I’ll be hungry for days.” He shakes his head,” Don’t be dramatic, I was just making sure you won’t go hungry. Plus you look so cute with your mouth full.”

You roll your eyes,”Remind me to never go out to eat with you again. You’re gonna kill me.” He shushes you,”I would never even dream of hurting you.” It felt odd coming from his lips considering the fact this whole thing happened with the intention of hurting you, but he was past that now. You weren’t just a bet now, you were his girlfriend, his object of affection, his world. The bet was just a vehicle of fate that lead him to you. You already meant so much to both him and Geto. Perhaps it’s the fault of stalking you, as a way of finding a perfect way to trap you into their plan, but he never thought he’d find himself entrapped by you instead. He wondered if it was too soon to say I love you. He could wait a little longer, maybe two months after this and pretend this feeling didn’t develop so quickly.

“You look so sleepy, I’ll tell them to box up our food and I’ll take you to the car.” He motions for the waiter and mutters some words you’re too incoherent to hear. The fullness dwelling in your tummy had you craving a longggg nap and a nice warm bath. Gojo sits up, pulls you onto your feet, rubbing your shoulders with soft murmurs. He practically carried you all the way to the car, buckling you in with a kiss to your forehead. He disappears shortly after that, only to reappear with a bunch of bags full of uneaten food that get placed in the back seat.

He drives the car extra careful, nice and smooth to not disturb your slowly dozing off state. And he keeps it that way the whole time until he arrives to his house. You hear the shutting down of the ignition, turning to him with low eyes,”We’re here?” He hums,”Mhm but wait here, don’t get up til I come back.” You watch him stalk off, cuddling into the seat to ease the utter satiety you feel jumble around in your stomach.

He returns with company, the second persons long hair cascading down his bare back. Geto opens the car door, greeting you with a kind smile,”I missed you.” It’s pleasant and warming, so much so your own smile etches onto you. He unbuckles your seat belt for you and takes you into his arms, fully carrying you for the second time today. You’re too tired to protest so you let him carry you all the way into the house, Gojo following along with the bags in hand.

You expected Geto to drop you off on a bed, something bouncy and easy to melt into. Instead of feeling that you come into contact with the cool granite of a bathroom counter. Your brows furrow in confusion,”What’s going on?” Geto replies,”We’re gonna give you a nice bath.” With that he begins peeling off your layers, taking his time, kissing and lightly on your body. Gojo enters the bathroom next, working on your face, taking off any enhancements you added to your appearance tonight.

You’re now fully naked, with nowhere to hide from their awaiting eyes. You’re walked to an already filled tub, the steam wafting your body. The aroma smelt of lavender and sandalwood. Geto guides you in, placing you in the middle of the giant basin, he then follows suite, positioning himself at the head. Gojo then hops in next, a sigh fleeing from him once he feels the muscle relaxing heat of the water.

You’re sandwiched between them, trapped by one’s chiseled chest and the other’s leaned on your rolled adorned back. Geto speaks first,”How was your dinner?” His question is paired with soft caresses on your plump arm, eyes riddled with tenderness. “It was so good, everything tasted so rich and yummy but Toru was trying to feed me like I wouldn’t see a meal again.” Geto bellows a guffaw, his canines shining under the reflective light. “Is that right Toru?”

Gojo quickly chimes in to defend himself,”It’s only because you’re so cute. I told you.” Gojo pouts against your back, slouching forward on your spine, lips ghosting on the upper column of it. His lips are only a few millimeters from connecting and the thought alone has you shivering in the warm water. “I’ll have to agree with him here, you are so cute. Why don’t you come closer?” He had asked you to move but the verbiage was useless once he yanks you snug on his pecs. Gojo also makes himself real comfortable on you, his chest now flush on your rear.

Flustered you say,”Thank you.” Geto places a chaste kiss on your brow bone, huffing into the skin with contentment. The man behind you mirrors the action on the back of your ear, sloppy and noisy. Speechlessly the begin bathing you, lathering your favorite scents, pampering you with thoughtful exfoliation, massaging your taut flesh with honeyed praise that makes you weak.

Gojo hands rest on your pudgy tummy, kneading it with a sense of worship,”You’re so perfect like this.” His words are brushed on the slope that connects your neck and shoulders. He continues, paws moving to pinch a roll on your waist,”So pretty and good for us.” Finished with a delicate kiss to the temple.

Geto in front of you peppers your cheeks with dozen of pecks, both his hands cupping the fullness with revere. A peck to the nose comes with,”You’re so so precious. Such a good girlfriend, just let me and Toru take care of you. You never have to worry about a single thing for the rest of your life.” And it feels so good to be told that. So lovely, to hear that you can just melt into them, depend on someone else for a change.

They continues their mantras, velvety and musical to your ears. Their words last all the way up until you’re taken out of the tub, then dressed in one of Gojo’s shirts that barely covered anything. It’s like heaven, their soft touches and sweet words, each step towards the bed feels like fluffy clouds beneath your bare feet.

And at last you land on something bouncy, something you could find complete comfort in. You’re the only one laying down on the mattress, the two men taking position on your right and left, looking down at you with such affection it makes you want to hide. The get on the bed, each holding half of your body gently, speaking to you til your eyes grew heavy again and your speech became incoherent.

And the last audible sentence you could make out is,”You’re gonna love it here.” Odd but slumber seemed more appealing than being inquisitive. With you now nursed to sleep the two men gave each other a gaze that meant action would soon be taken.

One

Hundred

Percent.

It was no shock when Gojo scored the most points during the game today. He’s a star after all, in every regard. With every basket made in he’d search for you in the audience and blow a kiss you know was meant solely for you.

“Woahhh! You did so great Satoru! I’ve never seen such a knockout game before.” Your praise meets eager ears,”I told you I’d win,surprised I didn’t mess up cause I didn’t see you wearing that cute little outfit I bought you.” You shake your head,”You told me I could wear it after.” He smiles proud,”That’s rightttt, once we leave this party you better not get shy on me now. I worked real hard to see you in it. Suguru’s lucky he gets to see it too, even though he doesn’t deserve to. I really am so generous.” Gojo turns to Geto expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m not going to thank you. So stop looking at me like that.” Geto says. Gojo huffs,”Geez, everyone’s so ungrateful these days. Except you,little cutie.” You feel Gojo place a wet smooch on your cheek, causing a giggle to flee you. Geto smiles softly at the interaction though it quickly drops when he sees something…or someone in the crowd. You observe this and hurriedly ask,”Are you alright Suguru?” Your hand reaches for his forearm, clasping it with concern.

His focus isn’t on you as he replies,”Yeah, yeah..I just need to talk to someone real quick. Satoru, stay with her, it’s a big party and I don’t want her getting lost.” The pair share a look, one that oozed abundant worry. “Gotcha, you already know I’ll keep our girl safe.” Gojo pulls you in real close, his hand essentially glued in the groove of your love handles. Despite his nonchalant answer his actions spoke more truth than his words. His hold on you is protective, almost like he’d lose you this very second if he held you any different.

It was a fun day prior to this. Gojo had just won a season changing game, and you’re at a big celebration for the basketball team’s fantastic win with your boyfriends that seemingly can’t get enough of you. However, the amusement was no longer so prevalent. Gojo’s demeanor is no longer fun and lighthearted, he’s stiff and prepared as if he’s expecting to get away from the party he had to beg you to come to. It was clear that whoever that person they both saw was a threat to something they truly cared about.

You know if you ask if he’s okay, there would be no honesty replied. So you just stay attached to Gojo, rubbing calming circles on his back. You don’t know how long you stand in silence with him, the blaring music and other people’s joy being heard. You’re thankful when you see a familiar face walk up to you, Shoko with a beer held tightly in her hand. “Shoko, I didn’t know you’d come here!” Your excitement is met with lack there of. Shoko’s face is deadpan and void of emotion,”You didn’t come to the dorm last night. I had texted you, I was really worried this weirdo was up to no good.” The last comment has Gojo digging into the pudgy skin harder.

You fluster, thinking of their intimate treatment last night,”Uhh..yeah I’m sorry. I stayed at Sugu’s and Satoru’s place yesterday. I was so tired I didn’t even think about going back home.” She hums in response,”I figured—Say, has Satoru here told you that they had visited m—“ Gojo’s voice interrupts Shoko,”I hadn’t really thought it was important, I’ll tell her as soon as you leave.” His voice is low and full with authority. Shoko replies,”I don’t want to leave though. I think you should tell her in front of me.” Shoko and Gojo have a stare off that has you wondering just how severe things were.

“What is she talking about Toru?” Your voice is littered with confusion but your eyes peer at Gojo with trust. Shoko pipes up,”Yeah? What am I talkin about Satoru—there’s a lotttt you still have to tell her.” Gojos hold on you is almost bruising now, a sign that whatever it is, it’s nothing he wants you to know.

“Baby..,”he begins, gentle and trying to find the right thing to say,”I do have a lot to tell you,we do. But I’m not going to tell you here, I’ll get Suguru so we could all talk this out. And you—,” he turns his attention to Shoko, tone now filled with harshness,”Stay out of my business. It’s not your place to tell her things.” Shoko scoffs,”It is my place when you’re trying to change my living arrangements and don’t play that knight in shining armor bs in front of her. You’re gonna make me sick.”

The anxiety buds deep in your body. The nervous sweats, the ringing in your ears, Gojo’s and Shoko’s face becoming less clear. What exactly don’t you know? Is that why Geto walked off like that? You feel your breathing become uneasy something they both quickly pick up on. Gojo is already cooing at you,embracing you against his chest. And Shoko is rubbing your back with regret mixed in with her once motionless features.

“See what you did? You shouldn’t have talked about that in front of her!” Gojo’s volume is light, trying not to spook your already panicking state, but his tone was like hot venom slowly injecting the poison into Shoko’s ears. “As your friend I’m trying to tell you to stop this, it’s not healthy. For you or her. I didn’t mean to make her feel this way.” Gojo scoffs,”Cut the shit. You’re trying to threaten me, if you did care you would’ve discussed this with me privately.”

Shoko scrunches her nose in anger, her rested lips now contorted in a scowl,”Then I’ll talk to you privately now,”she directs her attention towards your quivering form,”We’ll be right back,promise.” She gives Gojo a glance that can be seen as,”Come with me now or I spill.” Gojo looks torn, his brain trying to pick his battles, on one hand he’ll stay with you and you’ll hear what they’ve been up to this whole time, on the other hand he’d leave you here as a nervous wreck, clinging to the wall, and you wouldn’t have a clue about what’s been going on until you hear it from their lips. Gojo thinks of damage control and decides he could make up for leaving you a for a few minutes easy, versus the much more daunting alternative.

Reluctantly Gojo releases his hold,eyes looking sad. “I’ll be right back, if I’m not in three minutes go look for Suguru. Otherwise, just stay here and wait up, okay?” You don’t agree to his directions instead you go to cling to him for his comfort once more but he’s unreachable now. “Please, I have to talk to Shoko.” He looks hurt to leave you this way even if it was temporary, you were beginning to freak out.

He walks off, looking pissed as ever, his eyes emotionlessly on Shoko. And you wait there,still fighting the nervousness brewing. You didn’t want to think about the possibilities of what this could mean for you. Even with the vagueness it’s apparent that this directly had to deal with you. You haven’t known the two men long but their place they have in your life already meant a great deal to you.

The thought of it already slipping between your fingers was nauseating. You could feel the difficulty of swallowing grow harder and harder, your throat becoming taut and voiceless. You were beginning to panic. The lights. The voices of party goers. The blaring music that feels like it’s digging its way into your brain. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You weren’t going to wait for Gojo or look for Geto, you had to get out of here. The promise of fresh air and quiet was like a mind numbing seductress, making you become careless as you hurriedly weave through the crowd. Each step felt way too hard, each one you had to think about instead of just doing. They quicken once you see the door of the front porch, you reach and open it with a big exhale.

But you wished for isolation, and unfortunately a familiar long haired man is conversing with another that has frosted blonde tips. You go to call out for him in relief, however you can’t bring yourself to once you hear him say your name. Now that you’re analyzing the situation Geto looks so tense, his handsome features contorted in pinched brows and a teethy grimace.

You weren’t planning on listening…you really weren’t, the conversation was so compelling though.

“I told you it’s off. I called you yesterday. So don’t even think you can threaten me.” Geto’s voice comes out low and serious.

The other man doesn’t seemed affected by the statement, instead he scoffs with a shrug, smug look on his face. “You shouldn’t have made a bet then. If you were gonna turn soft for some pussy-oh wait I forgot you cucks haven’t even hit it yet. I give her more credit for that, lonely bitch like that and I thought she’d be drooling all over you.”

Geto’s fist clench and it looks like it’s taking everything in him to not sucker punch the man. “Don’t talk about her like that, that’s my girl. And the bets off, like I said. So what she wants to do with her body isn’t a game anymore.” A loud boisterous laugh echoes out in the night, the man before him doubles over in genuine amusement.

“You can’t be serious! Oh my god you really are! You’ve only known the bitch for not even a full month and you’re this wound up about her?! Oh goddd..her pussy must look real good for you to be this whipped. You know I really thought I was going to lose this,her being pathetic and all, but I know I can’t now. You’re crazy over a bitch that hasn’t even put out yet—you know too, Shoko’s told some people about you both going to her dorm yesterday, telling her she won’t need her roommate anymore.” The man’s words are cruel and dripping with a smugness you’ve never thought possible.

Geto stalks closer,”You’re not winning anything. I will ruin your life if you dare meddle in mine or Satoru’s life. You won’t even be future head of your clan anymore—so I’d shut up if I were you. So what’re going you to say now? Still not off for you?” The once cocky man cowers before Geto’s taller frame, his smirk faltering a little bit. Until his eyes catch sight on you. And his next words hit Geto like a bullet,”I don’t have to meddle in anything. You did it to yourself.”

Geto follows Noaya’s line of sight and his eyes become wide. There you are, tears brimming down, shaky, and slowly backing away from the door. You’re speechless. And beyond hurt. You should’ve listen to your gut. People like you don’t live in Geto’s or Gojo’s worlds. It was impossible.

You were only a game to them. A sick way of passing the time for them. You weren’t actually liked or loved, despite what their actions did to your heart, making you so attached so this would hurt even more. You’re so stupid to believe you had something good, something real. You shouldn’t known this wasn’t organic, their pushiness in your life spelt that out for you, big and clear.

But you chose to trust. You chose to believe you were really wanted in such a way you’ve always craved. So you let them touch you, let them say their sweet lies, let them into your isolated life. And it was your fault.

You wanted to yell and shout at Geto, curse him with all viscousness you held in your body. But you’re humiliated above being angry. The same way you were in high school when popular boys would ask out the undesirable friendless nobody. Geto calls for you, reaching for you as he gets nearer to your quivering frame. But despite proximity he seems so far away.

He doesn’t even touch you before you take off, running in the sea of moving bodies. The noises you found overwhelming before were like an escape for the sobs you’re holding back. The few you people you had closet in your life betrayed you—Shoko, Geto, and Gojo. As much as you craving crying in your room the promise of Shoko arriving at the dorm made you woozy. She knew, and she didn’t tell you. Didn’t save you from the pain you feel now.

You were done. There would be no more trusting people for a good awhile. Because the clock just officially struck twelve and now you’re back to what your life used to be. Lonely, pathetic, and uneventful. You’d prefer that because at least it’s true. You make it out the front door, shakily grabbing your phone you order an uber. 2 minutes til its arrival. And you pray and hope none of them find you in that time frame.

You block Geto and Gojo without hesitation. It’s not like they would care, you were just a game to them. You weren’t a real girlfriend. You were worth a bet. That’s it. Now free from the view of people you release your cries into the night. Ugly cries whooshing away into the midnight breeze. You could feel snot drip out of your nose and your lips formed in a jutted pout.

You hear hollers of your name become less distant which already has you tenser. They get nearer and nearer, but so does your uber pulling up in the driveway. A chariot perfect for your escape. Hurriedly you hop in the car, hoping you could depart before they could see you breaking down. Unfortunately you weren’t quick enough. A determined hand stopping the door from shutting completely. Through teary eyes you see snowy white hair.

“Baby..get out the car. Let’s talk this out.” Gojo’s voice is laced with need, his eyes blown wide and erratic. He looks..wild. And it scared you. “No! Leave me alone! I don’t ever wanna see you again! You humiliated me for the last time!” You kick at Gojo, attempting to loosen his grip on he door. He easily catches your leg, his hands embracing your calf with an iron hold.

“It’s not like that, I promise. I—We really do care about you. So just come out and we’ll go home and make this all better.” Your voice comes out shaky,”Oh the home you tried to force me into? You tried to get me out of my dorm last night! And you tricked me! Being all sweet to me, for what?! To brag about the total loser being wrapped around your finger?! No! I’m not gonna be naive anymore!” You pull your leg back with all your might, yet it still isn’t enough for Gojo to let go.

So, you resort to something crazy. You turn to the driver who’s watching the interaction in silence,”Drive!” The driver looks worried,”Are you sure? He’s hanging on the door.” You look at Gojo who’s beginning to tear up as well,”Baby don’t do this..please just let us talk to you,”he pauses, eyes closing as he says,”I love you.”

And that was what made your decision easier. You were worried about the impact of falling off from a moving car but if he wanted to try to manipulate some more that’s what he deserved. “I’m tired of your lies,”turning to driver you complete the sentence,”Drive.” Hearing your confidence the driver steps on the pedal, beginning motion.

Gojo’s grip loosens on your calf and he’s already running to keep up with the car. “Baby, no—“ The car speeds up and eventually Gojo can’t keep pace any longer. He releases you at last but it’s not a smooth landing for him. Before you close the door that’s no longer being held you see Gojo face down on the asphalt, looking akin to a pancake. You almost think about if he’s okay—almost. The empathy fading once you remember the ache in your heart.

You bring your hands to your face, covering the messiness of your despair.

And the whole way to your dorm you stayed that way.

PHASE 3-GET THE GIRL

It had been a month and a half since the incident happened.

And life has been hell. Utter hell. Suddenly you were failing all your classes no matter how hard you studied, you got fired from your job without reason and haven’t been able to get another one, the librarian says you aren’t welcome anymore, now officially banned for being a “disruption.”And to make matters worse nobody would talk to you—not even Shoko. Before you were invisible and that’s why nobody really spoke to you,presently it’s a whole different reason. Whispers of you would be said about you during lectures, mean looks and moving of seats once you came too close. You were full on being treated like a pariah.

You thought life would get better once Geto and Gojo left you alone but it got way worse the more you rejected them. The first couple weeks you’d have extravagant gifts on your doorstep, love notes pasted onto your windows, and all throughout this you and Shoko were not even on speaking terms. After it became silent from them things became worse than ever.

You don’t know exactly how or when, but you have a good feeling on what could be the cause. This was because of your lack of interaction with the pair and you knew it. It was a mystery how they were able to execute everything but unfortunately it was working.

Quickly the lack of basic social interactions were becoming much too hard to handle. You craved at least having the choice of talking to people but that wasn’t even an option anymore. You were a nuisance and treated as such. The only people you knew would accept you with open arms and more were the reason for your suffering. It wasn’t an option, no matter how bad you felt about your life.

Which brings you here in the deans office, discussing your removal from the university. If you weren’t going to be treated right here you’ll just move. You barely had the money to do it but you would anyway. “I’m aware about your situation and I know it’s really hard to stay when you’re going through that, however I really want you to think about what this will do to your future.” His voice is professional to the core, lacking any form of comfort.

“I know..and I don’t care. I just can’t stay here anymore.” You reply. “Yes…I can see that..” the comment hit deep because you knew it was about your physical appearance. You had let depression get the best of you and it showed apparently. You were wearing clothes that you’ve had on for two days, unbathed, the clothes had various snack stains on them that you couldn’t be bothered to clean up, and your skin looked dull and lifeless. You definitely looked like you were put through the wringer.

“I’ll tell you what,come back in two days and see if you feel the same way.” The deans tone was dismissive, uncaring of your pleads. Probably because he’s somehow in their pockets as well. They’re inescapable. And you felt like eventually you’ll land right back in the palm of their hand. Frowning, you get up from the chair, wordless. You don’t bid a goodbye as you leave. There was no point.

You hate that you knew you were being played with. And you hate that it was starting to work. The more isolated you felt the more you were thinking about being back in their arms, being taken care of. The idea of going back to them seemed so appealing, so much better than being even more lonesome. They loved you, right? It couldn’t be so bad. But those thoughts were always interrupted with logic, what they’re doing isn’t right nor healthy. They’re borderline stalking you and ruining your life. They shouldn’t be rewarded with your submission.

They got to fool you once and you’d make sure they wouldn’t be able to do it twice. When you arrive to your dorm, Shoko’s sitting on the couch but she’s not alone like usual. On either side of her, there’s two men. Two men you wish hadn’t seen ever again. Your first instinct is to walk back out and leave. However, Gojo’s already up before you could even think about moving. He’s consuming your personal space in every way, his arms wrapped around your wide waist with immense strength. And he huffs in deep, almost like he’s sniffing you. “ I missed you so much baby! It’s been so hard to see you when you keep running away from us.” Almost like no time has passed at all. Like he’s been in love with you since the moment he’s laid eyes on you, not playing a cruel joke on you.

You try to push him off but he’s unmoving,”Get off me! Don’t act like you actually care about me! I’m not falling for that again!” Geto speaks for the both of them, now standing next to you and caressing your chubby cheek,”We do care about you, so much you wouldn’t even know. If you let us explain at the party we wouldn’t have to play this silly game with you.”

Shoko arises from the couch, looking less guilty than she has when she looks at you. “I thought they weren’t serious either, but they do really like you. I should’ve told you what they were doing but you make them so happy. And I understand that now, I hope you do too. I’ll let you reunite privately.” After saying her two cents Shoko leaves the dorm, giving you a faint smile as you looked at her with wide eyes.

Gojo places a wet kiss on your cheek,”Now that we’re alone let’s talk like an adults, yeah?” He finally lets you go, but only when Geto is standing in front of the door. Gojo herds you over to the couch, arm on your lower back with quiet dominance.

You expected to settle down on the cushions, instead the man places you onto his lap, arms wrapping around your pudgy tummy. You wiggle a bit but it doesn’t last for long once you realize he’s much too strong to even fight. So you became lax, frowning as you do so. Geto sits next to you, hands reaching for your thighs. You felt so angry you could cry. Why bother you? Why do this if you were just stupid bet? Why not leave you alone?

“You can ask about anything and we’ll answer you honestly. We won’t lie to you, just talk to us.” Geto voice rings out. The first thing to pop in your head is,”Have you been causing everything?” Despite the promises of honesty you weren’t expecting to hear,”Yes we have.” It floored you. You had expected their faults to be blamed on anyone else. It angered you, but also it made you feel slightly better. “Why? Why not just leave me alone?”

Gojo pipes up behind you, nosing your nape,”You’re asking silly questions. But if it’s not obvious..it’s because we love you. So so much, you can’t leave us again.” He feels you stiffen against him,brows pinched,”But…you don’t even know me that well. We were further part longer than when we started dating. I..just can’t believe that. Especially with what you what you guys did.” Tears are teasing your lash line, to which Geto’s comforting hand darts out, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with a tenderness that has your body swooning.

“We know everything about you. We know what you like to do late at night in the privacy of your room , we know that you wanted love and here it is, sitting right here even though you ran away from us. We could get to know all of you when we’re in a relationship. You just need to stop fighting us.” Geto’s voice is so alluring you’re almost convinced. Pulling your face away from him you say,”I can’t trust you again. You hurt me the worst way possible. I was a joke to both of you. And you weren’t even betting money on me. Is that how little I’m worth?”

Geto’s brows pinch like he’s distressed you feel that way, eyes looking kind as ever. “You’re worth so much more. More than words could ever say. We were naive to your nature before. But once we got to know you it was wraps for us, I promise. The bet was a forgetful thing for us once you became ours.” Ours. The word made you regrettably warm a bit.

It made you feel wanted despite the weeks of unwanted you felt by their hand. It was their fault. But with Gojo placing gentle kisses on your neck and Geto rubbing your thighs with reverence it was hard not to be influenced by their charm.

And their honeyed words. Words that made you feel the best you have in awhile. You were folding and it’s only a matter of time before you’re under them again. A shame, you really wanted to hold out. You wanted this to be the last time they saw you. But you forgot how good they make you feel. How much you matter when you’re with them. No one else has ever been that fond toward you. It’d probably be only them for the rest of your life. And you had a lot of left life to go.

Gojo hum against your skin,”Listen to us. Let us take care of you again. We’re all you need. Don’t think about our past actions, thinking about now. Feel how much we want our pretty little girl back.” That’s when you feel it. Their want. Gojo’s hardened erection throbbing against the plushness of your ass. If they were truly sorry they wouldn’t apologize with their body, with mind numbing pleasure, yet, you’re melting into Gojo’s signs of affections. Perhaps you are as desperate and pathetic as they initially thought, but the promise of care you’ve been longing greatly outweighed your grudge.

Soft whimpers falling from you with every harsh nip on your skin. And that’s when you knew you’d be under them tonight. For the rest of your mortal life you wouldn’t be allowed to leave them. And that’s okay with you. It’s easy to agree when they so carefully peel your clothing off, carrying you to your bedroom with excitement on their irritatingly beautiful mugs.

When you’re placed on your bed, bare and vulnerable compared to their still clothed forms. It was invigorating, feeling the smallest you ever have in your life under their gazes. You never felt small ever—but like this, with them closing in on you like hungry predators starved for the whole winter it was impossible not to.

You no longer care about your unbathed body, or your hairy limbs and cunt. This was raw. Real, something you craved since you found out about their lie. And now you knew their feelings weren’t untrue.

So you reach for Gojo and Geto, pulling them close to your maw. “Show me, show me how much you missed me.” It’s a soft whisper, but that’s all it needed to be for them to take action. Gojo moves first, lips enveloping yours with a fervor you’ve never seen before. His hands wrap all over your softest parts, big hand gripping the pouch of fat on your tummy, rubbing it between the pads of his fingers with dedication.

Geto moves down, suckling on one your nipples and tweaking the other, looking up at you with his honey brown eyes. Like a panther, seducing its prey. He nips at the tip of the peak, then kisses it to ease the burning sensation. He repeats this over and over til he can hear your pretty sounds slipping out from the connection you’re in with his counterpart.

Your back arches, an attempt at furthering the contact with his mouth. Greedy chest, shoving your touch deprived breasts into his mouth.

And he takes it in wholeheartedly. His hand kneads your breast with a touch that’s just enough to have your toes begin to curl. The other is almost all the way in his mouth, suctioning his maw off and on, caressing the tender tissue with care. Gojo pulls away from the kiss, blue eyes hooded and low now. “Tell me, does that feel good?” You moan aloud, brows furrowing in pleasure,”Y-Yes Toru, feels so good!” He grins wide,”Hear that Sugu? You’re making our girl feel so good. Hmm, how about I make you feel better?”

Immediately you feel your head bob, impatient for more lustful gratification. He slithers down to your parted legs, kissing your inner thigh once he’s below. “Ever been ate out before?” Gojo knew the answer, however he just liked to see you get embarrassed. “N-No ahh never.” He has your doughy thighs trapped in his grasp, giant paws surrounding them with unbeatable strength. “You’re gonna love it, I’ll make this pussy feel so good you won’t even be able to speak.” With that he spits a long line of saliva down your pussy, pointer finger rubbing in the spit on your slit. The cool sensation has you arching further into Geto’s mouth. He suckles harder on your boob, eyes watching how you’re already falling apart.

Gojo blows cool air on your wet clit,then rubs it in a circular motion with his thumb. Grinning wide and proud when he can see your pussy winking for him. He takes a big lap all the way down your slit, tongue creeping in the throbbing hole. Flicking up real good, up and down combing his tongue on your ooey goey walls.

Geto releases your breast from his mouth, smile on his face once he sees the big love mark on the flesh. He places a kiss on your cheek, hand rubbing on your plump tummy, greedily watching you wriggle and squirm. “Look at you,a few licks on your cunt and you’re already falling apart. So cute, but don’t think we forgive you for leaving us so easily. You’re going to be punished right now and you’re going to take it,okay?”

His words were understandable but Gojo’s constant attention on your mound had you not comprehending the weight of what was said. He pinches your pudge,”Be good and reply baby.” Geto reminds. Gojo positions his nose upwards, rubbing the tip of it against your throbbing clit, tongue moving in a semi circle in the warmth. His blue eyes barely peek out from behind your tummy, seemingly getting amused by the promise of Geto’s words.

“O-Okay!!” It’s a loud yelp, a conformation to something you don’t know fully. A conformation, nonetheless. Suddenly a red hot sting is felt on your left boob, the impact already causing a blooming mark. Your eyes tear up and you look at Geto confused, lips wobbly and kiss bitten. “Don’t look at me that way, I told you.” With that another slap on the same spot, then another and another til it’s a constant fast flurry. And it doesn’t stop. You’re reeling away from him, trapped by Gojo’s possessive hold on your lower body.

To add to the sensation Gojo takes his tongue out from your hole, maw now favoring to latch on your clit. Two fingers replace the pink muscle, scissoring you open with his big digits. Geto doesn’t stop slapping your boob, cooing at you tauntingly. “It’s okay, it won’t be long til I’m done with this side. Shhh, it could be much worse baby. You really hurt our feelings, you know?” He lands a hit that hurt more than the rest, a blooming staticky feeling growing on the skin.

You begin crying, moans and whimpers slipping from you. And your eyes peering at him pleadingly, lips quivering barely able to get the syllables of his name out. This softens Geto quickly, his prideful mask faltering, and the impacts halt. “Poor baby, if you tell me how sorry you are I’ll stop. And you have to promise not to leave us again. “

You muster the promise with haste, whimpers of pleasure following too when Gojo gives your warmth a particularly strong lick,”I promise not to leave again, e-ever. M’ so sorry, won’t happen again.”

Geto is true to his word, his hand now palming the poor former target of his frustration.”Good, you make me too soft anyway. Your cute little face is enough to convince me you’re sorry.” He places a kiss on your collarbone, lips pulling gently,”How about I join Satoru down below hmm?” His words are lost on you, whimpers and whines only being the replies he hears.

Geto soon is laid flat on his stomach, handsome face now mushed next to Gojo’s which is met with protest. “You’re blocking my view Sugu.” His mouth now free from puckering your clit. “Learn to share, we both can fit.” The black haired man prevents a smile from blooming on his face, finding his own foreshadowing beyond amusing. Gojo huffs with a roll of his eyes but still conforms to the new position, head lowering down to your pulsing cavity, eating up the way it swallows his fingers before he pulls them out.

He makes the absence up with his tongue again, the peak of the muscle exploring your orifice. Then it feels wider, like it’s stretching you further than it had prior. It’s no longer lone. A second slimy thrusting tongue joins the effort. Both attempt to reach the spongiest spot, pressing on gently with a pressure that has you calling out both names. Your thighs try to shut on them, body jerking away, heels kicking on the sheets of the mattress.

Your palms push on their stubborn heads, digits gripping their contrasting colored locks. “T-Too much! Please!” It’s like you didn’t say anything at all. Their greedy maws press further, until you can feel their chins lain flat on the cusp of your ass cheeks, and their noses molded into your folds, huffing the natural scent, like it’s the very oxygen they need to live.

Despite your tummy covering their eyes from your teary view, you know exactly how they’re peering at you. Predatory eyes enjoying the way you’re unraveling, squinting with glee the more and more you plead. The more you attempt to move away, trying to pull your cunt away from their gluttonous taste buds. It’s fruitless, impossible to escape from. No matter how much you flail and beg with broken moans.

You were egging their efforts on. Each time you protested you’re met with two harsh flicks, brushing against that special place. Eyes shutting with a euphoric rush, bitten lips beginning to bleed with your harsh bite. Then a stinging feeling, right at the summit of your hardened little bud, a reminder that moving away won’t only get more flicks if you keep running. But you’re beginning to grow brainless, there were no consequences right now in your head, only the sensation of their tongues seemingly eating you whole.

It was too much. Soon with the persistent stimulation you felt the summit of your gratification arriving. The punishing hand now rubs on your clit, in slow torturous circles that have you leaning your hips further. Back arched in an almost perfect bridge, nose crinkling, brows furrowed, calls of gibberish coming out. “Oh my godddd!” Then the rush of pleasure stops and so does their determined tongues. With your essence on their chins grinning wide and proud, pleased by your confused expression.

“W-Why’d you stop?” Your voice is hoarse and faint. Geto speaks,”You’re just so cute when you look confused. And I want you to cum sitting on me.” With that he lays on his back, body next to yours,his hand pulling you up on his chest, slick adding a sheen onto his shirt. You feel protests budding on your tongue,yet they don’t even come out. Gojo now placed behind you, lifts your hips up effortlessly setting you onto Geto’s lower half of his face. With Gojo creeped behind you,breath fanning on your nape, soft words coming from him,”Don’t be shy. You already belong to us.”

Geto wastes no time to proceed where he left off, tongue tracing all the expanse of your slit,the muscle almost kissing your other hole. You arch back onto Gojo’s chest,neck resting on his clothed chest. “Mhm,just like that. Fuck yourself dumb on Sugu’s face.”

Gojo’s hands wanders down to your supple hips, massaging the plushness with praise. “You sound so good..fuck baby.” You feel Gojo’s cock rubbing on your bare ass, the cotton of his shorts doing no good to stop the pre cum flowing from his tip.

Geto’s paws start digging into the plush of your cheeks, dull nails delving in the flush. His groans vibrate against your mound, hungry and desperate for the taste of you, even going as far as grinding his nose against you. “You taste so good too, wanna taste baby?” Gojo turns your face towards him, swallowing your lips whole, groaning as he humps against your ass. He spits in your mouth, placing your essence back into you. Pretty white lashes kiss the apples of your cheeks, closed tight at the contact.

He pulls away, looking at you pleased. “Tell me how good you taste.” He rubs on your ass harder, hands pacing your back and forth on his length as well as Geto’s face. The man’s face below you looking blissful, eyes closed in serenity, hungry tongue sneaking into your hole.

“I t-taste good!” Gojo squeezes your hips harder,”That’s right, you taste so fucking good. That’s why he’s eating it like this. Best pussy ever. The fattest,”a harsh thrust on your ass,”juiciest,”another gyration,”prettiest cunt ever.” Gojo groans on your neck, resting his head on the slope of your shoulders.

He pulls you taut, rubbing his dick on the crack of your ass. Geto swirls his tongue alllll around your hole, a keen fleeing from you already. The feeling of gratification grows once more and this time it’s not interrupted. Your moans become louder and louder until a milky white decorate Geto’s maw which is still moving despite your arrival. You’re whining and begging for him to stop, looking at Gojo for assistance but he only encourages Geto more.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Just let him taste you baby.” He’s cooing on your flesh, still grinding your lower body onto his length. “T-Toruuu please, n-no more! Make him stop!” He shushes you,”We have to get you nice and prepared to take one of us baby.” You don’t know how long it is until you finally hear the loud pop from under your cunt. Your substance still painting his maw, he looks prideful as ever.

Geto asks,”Feel good?” You nod, leaning your full weight on Gojo’s chest, practically boneless from your orgasm. “Yeah, just feel tired.” You respond. Geto hand grows to travel down to your inner thigh, rubbing his fingers comfortingly. “That’s normal, you did such a good job. Why don’t you go lay on your back for me?”

You obey with the assistance of Gojo once more, almost manhandling you down onto the mattress. Geto arises from his laying position now he slots himself in between your thighs until he’s face to face with you. Gojo positions himself next to your face, cock now free and poking your cherubic cheek. “Too tired to suck babe? I really wanna see if Geto’s lessons are paying off.” Gojo asks.

You shake your head no and part your lips, nudging closer to his mushroom tip. He gets closer to push all of the peak in, not pushing any further. Your tongue swirls around it, just like how Geto taught you to. Gojo groans,”Mmm, that already feels so good.” Geto above you pulls down both his pants and boxers, dick now resting on your puffy folds. He’s gazing at you with softness,”I’m going to put a bit in,okay?”

You nod, taking more of Gojo into your cavern. The long haired man pushes less than his tip in, the fat expanse of it already having you holding in a gasp. Gojo holds your head taut, pushing his dick even further til you’re halfway at his shaft. “Take it ughhh—yeah just like that. Doing so good, taking two dicks.” Gojo makes you feel better before his big hand almost slams you all the way down to his fluffy white bush.

Geto chides him,”This is her first time and you’re already making her dumb.” Gojo quickly bites back,”You don’t get it, her mouth feels like heaven. I see why you had her doin this all the time.” Geto rolls his eyes as he reluctantly agrees,”It does, she’s such a fast learner. But you don’t know what I’m feeling right now, poor thing is gripping the hell out of me.” Geto addresses you now,” Relax for me cutie, it’s okay I won’t put it all in until you are.”

You try to but it still feels the same for him. He huffs as he places a little bit more of his tip, tipping in n out ever so slowly. Groaning above you, feline orbs watching your mouth bob up and down on Gojo’s cock. “F-Fuck, just like that, keep doing that with your tongue. Such a good girl.” Gojo’s abs flex and his grip on head becomes harsher, practically crushing it with the strength.

You’re more laxed now, eased by the sensation of Geto’s careful motions. He barely goes over his peak, just enough that has you halting your sucking movements. Then he eases the new inches a little more, going even slower, taking his tip out just enough only to slide in a few more each time.

He repeats this until you’re halfway down his shaft, enough length for him to go a a tad faster. He groans bucking his dick up into your greedy warmth. You suck harder on Gojo’s dick, drool pooling down your chin, eyes watering and held shut with the big stretch you feel down below.

Gojo says your name, thrusting his eager hips in your mouth until he hears the delicious sounds of your gags. “So good! Open your eyes baby, look at how good you’re making me feel.” You obey and you’re greeted with Gojo’s flushed face, his pretty pink lips bitten and his teeth complementing the color. “Mhm just like that, keep looking at me while I fuck your face.” His commanding hand pushes you all the way down this time, his pubes now meeting your nostrils. And as the tip of his dick finds refuge in the back of throat Geto decides it’s time you take a little more.

He slides in almost all of his shaft, only one to two inches being away from balls deep. And you flail, hands gripping the sheets as your face contorts because of the lack of oxygen and the added new spreading sensation. It feels like you’re being invaded, slowly molded into being brainless. You couldn’t think anymore. It was just their dicks that consumed your mind, how good they felt, how Gojo’s constantly kissing the back of your throat, how Geto’s had your eyes rolling back.

It was bound to happen. You were bound to be under them this way, mouth abused and poor virgin hold stretched til its wit end. Geto at last bottoms out, balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

He grumbles your name, cooing at you as your body starts bouncing with each powered buck. Four pairs of eyes watch how your softest parts jiggle with his ministrations, Geto even thrusting harder just to see your adorable little pudge move some more.

“You look so good getting fucked baby, all full everywhere, just perfect—fuck and this mouth taking me so well.” Gojo says. Geto rests his head in the crook of your neck, slamming all his length into you with no more consideration. They were hungry—starved and it was showing clearly. Geto reaches for your face, despite it being full, he still caresses it, looking at you like you’re the prettiest thing to ever grace this earth. “Taking me so good, feelin so good too, so wet for me. I-I just might—f-fuck cum.”

Gojo agrees,”Y-Yeah ahh me too, everywhere feels so good baby.” As he says that’s he finally stops his ruthless pace in your mouth. Opting for laying his length a top your face, throbbing with lust. Geto thrusts harder, the grip on your face becomes more prominent. He’s peering into your eyes as he goes in n out dragging his hips deliciously every time he exits.

The white haired man spits a glob of saliva on your cheek, mirroring when he’s done this before. He slaps his cock on your cheek, then places both his hands flat onto both his length and your jowl. He bucks forwards experimentally, whining at the softness of the surface. Geto fucks harder into you, eating up the sight of your face literally getting fucked. He moves his gentle touch down to your neck now, loosely wrapping around it.

Your eyes lull back and you’re babbling. Saying whatever made most sense, none of it did though. All that was coherent was your rambles of “sososogood!” Geto begins jackhammering, the hold on your next becoming harsher with every entrance and exit of his cock. Gojo thrusts on your visage grow hurried as well, along with more spit pouring down onto your skin.

Your reach for Geto’s biceps, appearing so fucked out it has both of them fighting their climax. You’re tightening around him, legs wrapping so he won’t flee, because there’s no escaping when his cock is making you feel this good. Then you feel it again, the snapping sensation undoing in your belly, releasing the full pinnacle of pleasure. But it was too consuming. Too much for you to stay conscious for.

You fully blacked out. Not even the warmth of Geto’s seed in your cunt could call you back to consciousness, nor Gojo’s finish pooling down your cheek.

The two men hum blissfully , both commenting on how adorable you look just for them. “Do you want to call the movers in the morning?” Gojo asks. “I’ll call them tonight, so by the morning they’ll be here.” Geto replies.

Gojo hums in thought,”What if she’ll get mad at us again?” The man above you pulls out, staring at Gojo with seriousness,”She’ll come with us anyway. After all she promised not to leave again.” He said it with such a darkness, that not even Gojo wants to pry. He hopes you won’t freak out, after all, you need them.

Poor little recluse, too desperate to know you’re with the wrong company. Too late now.



OMG HAI SECOND FIC AND ITS EVEN LONGER! Pls lmk if we like the long fics or not! Maybe I’ll start doing some short ones while I’m writing long ones like these!

Mark Grayson had saved the world more than he could count on his fingers and toes this month.

Okay, technically one of those times had only been a city, and technically the other ones had mostly been Eve saving his ass while he got punched through several office buildings, but the point still stood.

He was Invincible. He could fly at hypersonic speeds. He could bench press things that definitely shouldn't be bench-pressed. He had personally fought aliens, supervillains, alternate versions of himself, and his own dad.

And yet

"You have zero game."

Mark looked up from his cereal. "Excuse me?" Across the kitchen table, Eve didn't even glance up from her phone.

"Zero. Absolutely none."

"I've dated people."

"Name one relationship that didn't end terribly."

Mark opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "...that's not fair." Mark’s lip jutted out into a pout.

"It's extremely fair."

Mark shoved another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Eve finally looked up.

"Mark."

"No."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

"I do, actually."

"You should get on a dating app."

Mark nearly inhaled a piece of his cereal.

"A dating app?"

"Yes."

"I'm Invincible."

"And?.." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Superheroes don't use dating apps." he huffed.

Eve stared at him.

Somewhere in Chicago, a car alarm went off. Mark pointed dramatically toward the window.

"See? That's probably a supervillain."

"That's just somebody’s shitty Nissan Altima."

"My point stands."

"Your point has never stood."

Mark groaned and buried his face in his hands.

The worst part was that she wasn't wrong.

Because somehow, despite being one of the strongest people on Earth, Mark Grayson couldn't pull to save his life.

Literally.

Figuratively.

Romantically.

At this point, he'd probably have better luck fighting a Viltrumite than successfully flirting with a woman at a coffee shop. Or anywhere for that matter.

Eve took mark’s phone and downloaded an app. She slid his phone back across the table.

The screen displayed a dating app signup page.

It was all peach themed.

Mark stared at it like it was a live grenade.

"Absolutely not."

Five minutes later, he was choosing profile pictures.

Mark Grayson hadn't expected the matches.

That was the problem.

The entire reason he'd agreed to the app was because nobody was supposed to know who he was.

Not really.

His profile didn't mention Invincible.

It didn't mention superheroes.

It didn't mention saving the world.

His photos were normal. Just him in casual clothes, awkward smiles, pictures taken by friends over the years.

Nothing that screamed one of the strongest people on Earth.

The profile was intentionally boring.

And yet people kept matching with him.

At first he assumed it was luck.

Then coincidence.

Then curiosity.

By the third day, he wasn't so sure.

Mark sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling through another list of notifications.

Twenty-seven matches.

Thirty-one.

Thirty-eight.

The number kept growing.

He frowned.

That wasn't normal.

At least it didn't feel normal.

He worried that he didn’t play into a secretly identity enough

His thumb hovered over one profile before opening the conversation.

What do you do for work?

The question appeared constantly.

It was harmless.

Normal.

The kind of thing people asked each other.

Mark still hated it.

He typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Deleted that too.

Eventually he settled on:

“I help people.”

A minute later came responses like

“That's vague.” or “Like a social worker?”

Because it was.

Everything had to be vague.

What was he supposed to say?

“I stop alien invasions.”

“I get punched through mountains.”

“My dad killed the guardians of the globe and attempted to take over Earth and I tied to stop him.”

None of those answers exactly worked.

The conversations always died shortly afterward.

Not the first one.

Not the last.

Mark sighed and closed the app.

Maybe Eve had been wrong.

Maybe this had been a terrible idea.

-🍑-

The next day he opened the app again.

Mostly because he was bored.

Partly because there were even more matches.

That part still confused him.

Every time he expected the number to stop growing, it didn't.

Another conversation.

Another introduction.

Another person asking about him.

The normal kind of questions.

Family.

School.

Work.

Plans.

Future.

Questions that should have been easy.

Questions that somehow weren't.

Because every honest answer led somewhere dangerous.

His family was complicated.

His job was impossible to explain.

His future changed every time a new threat appeared.

Even talking about where he'd grown up felt risky.

So Mark kept pieces of himself hidden.

Not because he wanted to lie.

Because he didn't know how not to.

-🍑-

A week later he matched with someone who didn't ask what he did.

Didn't ask where he worked.

Didn't ask why he seemed strangely private.

Instead she asked what he liked doing when he wasn't busy.

Mark stared at the screen.

That was somehow harder.

Because the truthful answer was flying.

Flying with no destination.

Flying because the clouds looked different at sunset.

Flying because for a few minutes the world felt quiet.

But that answer wasn't exactly normal.

So instead he wrote:

I like being outside.

A few moments later she replied.

Me too.

That was it.

No interrogation.

No follow-up questions.

No attempts to figure him out.

Just a conversation.

Simple.

Easy.

She was also gorgeous. She was curvy, fat in all the right places. While other men felt threatened by a bigger woman, it only spurred him on.

It almost made him giddy.

For the first time since downloading the app, Mark felt himself relax.

Maybe that was the trick.

Maybe not everyone needed the whole story immediately.

The thought lingered longer than he expected.

Mark and the stranger woman who likes nature continue to talk.

Off and on throughout the day he’d hear that high pitched ping.

He’d pick up his phone with haste each time. He was actually entertained by her. Eventually came the question,

“Do you want to go out on a date?”

Mark stared at the notification.

He stared at it for a solid thirty seconds. His mouth went dry.

The words didn't rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

“Do you want to go out on a date?”

It wasn't a complicated sentence.

It was six words.

Six normal, human words that normal, human people exchanged every single day without suffering a cardiac event.

His heart actually beat so fast that it probably would’ve killed a normal human.

You watched as Mark’s message bubble popped up and away again. The three bouncing dots tantalizing.

You took a thick swallow in.

Eyes laser focused on the screen.

You also have had little to bad luck when it came to dating.

Men usually only wanted sex, not a real relationship. One that was soft.

You thought the same thing would happen with Mark.

He looked like a fuck boy with some nerdy interests sprinkled in.

But something about his profile told you to take a chance.

The dots bounced.

Stopped.

Bounced again.

Paused.

Then finally, Mark's message appeared.

“I'd like that.”

Relief flooded through Mark.

Then immediate panic.

Because he'd just said yes.

To an in-person date.

With a real human woman who liked being outside and didn't ask about his stupid cover story.

They'd never even heard each other's voices.

He scratched the back of his neck, coming to terms that he may just be a dumbass.

“Come to (this address..)”

You sent him the address of a camp deep within the mountains.

It was secluded,

intimate.

You hoped he didn’t think you were some serial killer.

All you know is that you have an extremely attractive man willing to go out with you.

Score!

Mark stared at the address.

The app showed a preview.

Mountains.

Trees.

A single camp icon blinking in the middle of nowhere.

No street names.

No nearby businesses.

Just coordinates that looked like they'd been pulled from a survivalist's wet dream.

Immediately, Mark's brain remembered all the crime documentaries he’s watched with his mom. Chill bumps raised on his skin.

This was absolutely how serial killers got you. Everytime he watched those shows he thought that the victim should’ve seen the red flags. I mean a secluded campsite with barely any service and literally no nearby towns?

come on.

If he wasn’t a superhero he’d be more worried.

“I’ll see you there then!”

You throw your phone across the room. It smacks against the wall, sliding down and eventually landing face side up.

You can feel your heart beating right out of your chest.

When was the last time you really went on a date? To be perfectly honest, you didn’t know.

Meanwhile, Mark was hyperventilating.

He threw himself backward onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him.

He had a date.

An actual, planned, confirmed date.

With coordinates that led deep into the wilderness.

"This’ll be the stupidest thing i’ll ever do," he announced to the empty room.

-🍑-

Mark arrived at the coordinates.

He touched down gently on the grass, checking his surroundings.

No monsters.

No Viltrumites.

No land mines.

Just trees. A lot of them. And a cabin in the distance.

“Alright.. what’s the catch..” He said to himself.

There was no catch. Just a squirrel scurrying across the ground in front of him.

His heart was doing something weird in his chest. Something that reminded him of before fights. Except without the adrenaline or the survival instinct.

This was worse. He could throw up. He just might. He choked it down.

All mark could hear was the sounds of the surrounding wildlife.

Eventually though, he hears a car pull up. It’s small, kinda shitty. It gets the job done.

However, he forgets everything else when he sees you. Your full curvaceous figure has him head over heels. Mark has always liked his women with a little more meat on their bones. More to love he thinks.

Mark froze.

The car door opened.

You stepped out.

Mark stopped breathing.

Every single thought in his head instantly evaporated, replaced by a high-pitched static that drowned out the birds, the wind, and the distant engine ticking as it cooled.

You were... absolutely gorgeous.

And exactly his type.

Soft, full curves. Hips that looked like they were designed to be held.

If he was a cartoon, his jaw would’ve been on the floor with his eyes the shapes of hearts. Right now, you were his Jessica rabbit.

You were having a similar issue.

You looked at him and you had to hold your jaw closed.

He was ripped to say the least. You could literally see those abs through his shirt.

Guys like him used to bully you in high school. You could feel the insecurities from that era bubbling up. You shake your head, shoving them down deep.

You put on a shy smile, gripping the strap of your backpack for dear life.

You both stood there, staring.

Mark was actively trying to remember how to speak.

His brain was short-circuiting between "she's so beautiful" and "oh god don't mess this up."

You were having your own internal crisis, suddenly feeling seventeen again, convinced that someone would laugh and ask what a guy like him was doing with a girl like you.

The silence stretched.

It was like two cowboys having a stand off.

The silence stretched.

And stretched…

And somehow, with every passing second, you became more aware of yourself.

The softness of your stomach beneath your shirt. The curve of your hips. The way your hands suddenly felt awkward. You resisted the urge to cross your arms over yourself, to make yourself smaller like you always did when someone was looking at you for too long.

Especially someone like Mark.

Because Mark wasn't just looking.

He was staring.

Not with pity. Not with amusement. Not with the polite kind of attention people gave when they were trying not to seem rude.

He looked... awestruck.

Which somehow made it worse.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

He's gonna realize.

It was a stupid thought. An old thought. One you'd carried around for years despite every attempt to leave it behind.

He's gonna look closer and realize he could do better.

The insecurity hit so fast it almost made you laugh.

Seventeen years old again. Standing in front of a mirror. Listening to girls talk about diets and tiny waists. Wondering why nobody ever looked at you the way they looked at them.

And yet here Mark was.

Looking at you like you hung the stars.

His mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

You nearly smiled.

"Are you okay?" you finally asked, your voice soft.

Mark blinked.

"Oh."

Another blink.

Then a hand dragged down his face. Mainly to wipe his drool.

"Wow, that was bad."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

His expression brightened immediately at the sound.

"No, seriously," he continued, laughing nervously. "I had something cool planned to say."

"Did you?"

"Absolutely."

"What was it?"

Mark pointed at you.

Then immediately lowered his hand.

"I forgot."

You laughed harder this time.

And for the first time since you'd walked in, some of the tension loosened from your shoulders.

Because Mark was still staring.

But now you could see it clearly.

Not judgment.

Not disappointment.

Not confusion.

Just a boy who looked completely, hopelessly smitten.

His smile softened.

"You know," he said quietly, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone look this pretty before."

The warmth that flooded your face was immediate.

"Mark—"

"No, I'm serious."

His eyes met yours.

Steady. Earnest. Certain.

And suddenly all those old fears felt a little smaller beneath the weight of his gaze.

Not gone.

Maybe they never would be.

But quieter.

For once, the voice telling you that someone like him could never want someone like you wasn't the loudest thing in the room.

The loudest thing was your heartbeat.

And the way Mark looked at you like choosing you had never been a question at all.

The sunset painted everything gold.

The lake shimmered beyond the trees, perfectly still except for the occasional ripple across the surface. The clearing was exactly how you'd imagined it when you'd suggested this trip.

Honestly, you were a little proud of yourself.

Most people had reacted to your idea with confusion.

"A first date? Camping?"

"Are you trying to get murdered?"

"Why not just get coffee like a normal person?"

Well you weren’t normal, that was for sure.

But coffee dates felt awful.

Too much staring.

Too much pressure.

Too much sitting across from someone wondering if they were secretly judging every little thing about you.

Out here, there was something to do.

Something to focus on besides yourself.

At least that had been the plan.

Unfortunately for you, Mark Grayson kept looking at you regardless.

Like constantly.

Enough that every time you caught him, he'd glance away like he'd been caught doing something embarrassing. A light pink blush dusting his cheeks.

It was weird.

Cute.

And deeply confusing.

It was already getting late.

You trekked to your initially planned camping area. It was half way down the mountain. An area overlooking the shining water.

-🍑-

Mark was sitting on the log across from you, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the firelight casting warm gold across his features.

You caught yourself staring.

Again.

You quickly looked away.

Only to find him already looking at you.

Your stomach immediately flipped.

There was something dangerous about the way Mark looked at you.

Not dangerous in a frightening way.

Dangerous in the way it made you forget every reason you'd spent years convincing yourself not to hope.

Because every time his eyes found yours, there was this softness there.

This quiet affection.

As though looking at you was his favorite thing to do.

You still didn't understand it.

A part of you wasn't sure you ever would.

"What?" you asked softly.

Mark blinked.

Like he'd been pulled from a thought.

"Hm?"

"You're staring."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"So are you."

Heat rushed into your face.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I was looking at the fire."

"The fire's over here."

You immediately looked away.

His smile widened.

teasing you slightly.

The kind of smile that made your chest ache.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke.

The sound of the lake lapping gently against the shore filled the space between you.

You watched the flames.

Mark watched you.

Eventually, you felt his gaze again.

Gentle.

Patient.

Steady.

The kind of attention that made you want to hide and bask in it at the same time.

Your fingers tightened around your sleeves.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

His answer came immediately.

Without hesitation.

The warmth of it settled somewhere deep in your chest.

You swallowed.

"Why did you swipe right on me?"

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Immediately, you wished you could take them back.

Mark's expression softened.

The firelight reflected in his eyes.

"What?"

You stared into the flames.

Suddenly unable to look at him.

"I don't know."

Your voice came out smaller than intended.

"I just..."

You laughed quietly.

Embarrassed.

"I guess I never expected you to."

The confession hung in the air.

You hated how vulnerable it sounded.

How honest it sounded.

For a moment, Mark didn't answer.

When he did, his voice was so gentle it almost hurt.

"Why wouldn't I?"

You shrugged.

Unable to explain years of insecurity in a single sentence.

Unable to explain what it felt like growing up feeling invisible.

Like every pretty girl in the room somehow existed under a brighter light than you did.

Mark stared at you for a long moment.

Then he stood.

Your heart immediately started racing.

He crossed the small distance between you and settled beside you on the log.

Close enough that your shoulders touched.

Neither of you spoke.

You became painfully aware of every inch of space between you.

Every breath.

Every heartbeat.

Then Mark quietly reached over and took your hand.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like he'd been wanting to do it all evening.

Your breath caught.

The pad of his thumb rubbed against your knuckle. He held your hand there on your thigh.

Slow.

Careful.

Almost shy.

"I swiped right because you seemed kind."

Your eyes lifted to his.

Mark's gaze never wavered.

"You seemed funny."

Another gentle stroke of his thumb.

"You seemed smart."

The corner of his mouth lifted.

"And your profile made me smile."

He brought your hand up to his lips. He softly pressed a kiss against your skin.

Something inside you melted.

Completely.

Hopelessly.

"I remember sitting there looking at your pictures and thinking I really hoped you'd answer me."

You laughed softly.

"That first message was not the greatest."

"I know."

His smile grew.

"But you answered."

Your heart was beating so hard you were certain he could hear it.

Unbeknownst to you, he could. Curse his superhuman hearing.

The look on his face made it impossible to look away.

Like he wasn't seeing the things you criticized about yourself.

The softness.

The flaws.

The parts you'd spent years wishing you could change.

He was just seeing you.

And somehow that felt more intimate than anything else.

The fire crackled quietly beside you.

The lake shimmered beneath the moonlight.

Mark squeezed your hand.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

And in that moment, sitting beneath a sky full of stars with his hand wrapped around yours, you realized something.

For the entire evening, Mark had looked at you like you were the prettiest thing in the woods.

Even with a moonlit lake twenty feet away.

And somehow, impossibly, he seemed completely sincere about it.

You lean against his steady shoulder.

Mark internally freaked out, but he played it off…

His other hand was digging into the log, crushing it.

…

The moment lingered.

The warmth of his hand around yours.

The crackling fire.

The quiet rush of water against the shore.

It should have felt perfect.

Maybe it did.

That was the problem.

Perfect things had a way of making you nervous.

Your gaze dropped to your intertwined hands.

Mark's thumb still brushed absentmindedly over your knuckles, like he wasn't even thinking about it.

Like touching you had already become natural.

The thought made your chest ache.

Because you wanted this.

You really did.

But wanting things had never guaranteed you'd get to keep them.

You stared into the fire.

"You know," you said softly, "you're making this difficult."

Mark looked down at you.

"Hm?"

You huffed a small laugh.

"You're nice."

His eyebrows rose.

"That's the complaint?"

"Yes. Ew."

He smiled.

"I think that's the first time anybody's ever said that to me."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile faded quickly.

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

"Most people aren't."

Within your time together, Mark realized that you’ve been deeply hurt before. Maybe by past lovers, friends, family? It didn’t matter to him.

It made him feel a nasty wave wash over him. Protectiveness? Anger? He couldn’t put a finger on it. It swirled deep within his chest.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.

Just thoughtful.

Mark didn't immediately ask what you meant.

Didn't demand an explanation.

He simply waited.

And somehow that made it easier.

You drew your knees up slightly.

"People can be mean."

The statement felt stupidly obvious.

Yet it carried years behind it.

School hallways.

Whispered comments.

Friends who weren't really friends.

Dates that made you feel like a joke.

People who acted interested until they decided they weren't.

Mark's expression softened.

The kind that let you know he was listening.

"I spent a long time feeling like I had to earn people liking me."

Your voice was quiet.

"So whenever somebody's nice to me, I kind of assume there's a catch."

It caught him off guard with how close he related to your words.

Mark looked down at your joined hands.

Then back at you.

"And if there isn't?"

You laughed softly.

"I don't know. That’s never happened."

The honesty of the answer surprised both of you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The fire crackled.

A breeze stirred the trees overhead.

Then Mark shifted slightly on the log.

"You know what I thought when I first saw your profile?"

You groaned immediately.

"Oh no."

"I'm serious."

"That never ends well."

A small grin tugged at his mouth.

"It does this time."

You narrowed your eyes.

He ignored you.

"First, I thought you are a damn fine woman."

Heat immediately rushed to your face.

Mark continued before you could protest.

"And I thought you looked like someone I'd want to spend time with."

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

You stared.

Mark shrugged.

Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Like there had never been anything complicated about it.

The thing was, he genuinely seemed to mean it.

There was no hesitation.

No qualification.

No despite.

Just you.

The way you were.

Exactly as you were.

The realization settled somewhere deep inside your chest.

Not fixing anything.

Not magically erasing old wounds.

Just loosening them.

A little.

You liked how straightforward he was.

-🍑-

The night grew colder as the hours passed.

Eventually, you stood to grab something from your backpack.

Only for your foot to catch on a root hidden beneath the grass.

A startled sound escaped you.

The world tilted.

And before you could fully process what was happening,

A hand caught your waist.

Steady.

Effortless.

You blinked.

Mark blinked back.

One arm was wrapped securely around you.

Like keeping you upright hadn't required any effort whatsoever.

For a second neither of you moved.

Then realization hit.

"Oh my God."

You buried your face in your hands.

"I almost ate dirt."

A laugh escaped Mark.

"You did."

You groaned.

His hand lingered for a moment longer before he stepped back.

The movement was reluctant enough that it made your stomach flutter.

Not because of what he'd done.

But because of how natural it had felt.

Like his first instinct had simply been to catch you.

Make sure you were okay.

Nothing more complicated than that.

You glanced over at him.

The firelight painted gold across his face.

His smile was small.

Warm.

Soft around the edges.

And for the first time all evening, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosened enough for you to smile back without overthinking it.

Mark's eyes lit up immediately.

As though that smile was worth more than the stars overhead.

And somehow, sitting beside the lake with the night stretching endlessly around you, you found yourself hoping this wasn't one of those things you'd eventually lose.

Because for once, being cared for didn't feel like something you had to earn.

With Mark, it felt like something he gave freely.

And that was a terrifyingly wonderful thing.

You were still thinking about it.

About the way his hand had caught you.

Not just caught, that didn’t even feel like the right word. It had been faster than your brain could process, like gravity had briefly decided it didn’t apply to you and Mark had just corrected it without thinking.

You sat back down near the fire, but your mind stayed stuck on it.

On him.

On the fact that you’d been falling and he’d moved like it wasn’t even a decision.

Mark was sitting beside you again, adjusting a log in the fire like nothing had happened at all.

Like he hadn’t just

You glanced at him.

He looked… normal.

Relaxed. Warm. A little distracted by the flames.

Not someone who had just moved fast enough to make your head spin.

Your eyes narrowed slightly before you could stop yourself.

Mark felt it.

Of course he did.

He looked over. “What?”

You hesitated.

Then pointed vaguely at him.

“How did you do that?”

He blinked. “Do what?”

Mark felt his heart drop to his ass.

“You know.” You gestured toward the space between you like the answer was floating there. “Catch me.”

Mark frowned a little, thinking.

“You tripped.”

“Yes.”

“And you were about to fall.”

“Yes.”

“So I caught you.”

“That part I got.”

He gave you a look that suggested what else would I do?

But that wasn’t the issue.

You shifted closer slightly, still studying him.

“It wasn’t like… a normal catch.”

That made him pause.

“A normal catch?” he repeated.

You exhaled through your nose, frustrated with how impossible this was to explain without sounding insane.

“You were just-” you searched for the words, “-fast. Like, really fast.”

Mark went quiet for half a second.

Long enough that your attention sharpened.

Then he shrugged. “Adrenaline, I guess.”

You squinted at him.

“That was not adrenaline.”

“It could’ve been.”

“It wasn’t.”

He opened his mouth

Closed it again.

You noticed that.

The pause.

The tiny delay before he answered like he was choosing something carefully.

Your gaze stayed on him.

More focused now.

Less soft.

Mark shifted slightly under it. Made him feel some type of.. way

You leaned back a little, eyes still on him, like you were trying to match what you were seeing with what you knew.

Which was a guy from a dating app.

A guy who was bad at flirting.

A guy who got nervous over marshmallows.

A guy who had just caught you like you weighed nothing.

You swallowed.

“…Mark.”

“Yeah?”

You hesitated again.

Then shook your head slightly, like you were trying to reset your thoughts.

“I’m just saying,” you continued slowly, “most people don’t move like that.”

He nodded once. “Fair.”

That should’ve ended it.

It didn’t.

Because now you were noticing other things.

The way he sat a little too straight sometimes, like slouching wasn’t natural for him.

The way he didn’t seem tired after the hike you’d been quietly struggling through.

The way, earlier, he’d barely broken a sweat setting up camp while you’d been fighting with the tent like it had a personal vendetta.

You looked away toward the lake, frowning faintly.

A quiet part of your brain tried to smooth it over.

Tall guys are just like that sometimes.

Athletic.

Lucky genetics.

But it didn’t fully sit right.

Mark was watching you now.

Nervously

Like he was waiting to see where your thoughts landed.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest again.

“I think you’re stronger than you look,” you said finally, more to yourself than him.

A beat.

Mark nodded again. “Yeah.”

Simple.

Too simple.

You looked back at him immediately.

That answer didn’t help at all.

But what struck you more than anything wasn’t the answer.

It was the way he said it.

No joking.

No deflection.

Just… acceptance.

Like there was nothing strange about it.

Like it was just another fact about him, the same way the sky was dark and the fire was warm.

You studied his face again.

Really looked this time.

The quiet steadiness in his eyes when he met yours.

The ease in his posture now that he wasn’t hiding anything emotional.

The way he didn’t seem threatened by your suspicion, just patient with it.

Your chest tightened slightly, not with fear exactly.

With uncertainty.

And something softer underneath it.

Mark shifted a little closer, slow enough that you could’ve moved away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

He glanced at you.

“You’re thinking really hard right now.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

You huffed a quiet laugh despite yourself.

“…I might be a little.”

He smiled faintly.

“About me catching you?”

You hesitated.

Then nodded.

Mark didn’t tease you for it.

Instead, he just said, almost gently, “I wouldn’t let you fall.”

The words weren’t dramatic.

They weren’t big.

But they landed anyway.

Your eyes lingered on him a little longer than before.

And for the first time that night, your thoughts didn’t rush to fill in the silence with worst-case scenarios.

They just… paused.

Like they were waiting to see what he would do next.

Eventually, the night started to feel heavier.

The kind of quiet that settles into the trees when everything living decides it’s time to rest.

Mark stood first, brushing a bit of dirt from his hands.

“Probably should get the tent ready,” he said.

You nodded, pulling yourself up a second later.

“Yeah.”

There was a brief look between you two, unspoken agreement, unspoken nerves, then you both walked back toward the campsite.

The tent still stood.

Barely.

A little slanted. A little stubborn. But upright.

You stared at it for a second.

“It’s standing up,” you said quietly.

Mark hummed. “Barely.”

You shot him a look.

That got him laughing again, soft and easy, like it always seemed to with you.

The kind of sound that made the night feel less empty.

You climbed inside first, kicking off your shoes and adjusting your bag to the side…

With a grumble under his breath, he acquiesced. Cause fuck if the kid wasn’t right? He needed to teach them more irresponsibility honestly. He was never going to hear the end of it from Semiu, he just knew it. 

“Finish your sweep and the faster we can start heading back. Come on people, it's a long way back from here.”

And it was. You were silent almost the entire trip. It wasn’t until Enjin prodded you for some of your belongings to sell that you finally spoke. He explained they would need the money but that it was also a safety precaution for you. It was best to not be injured and dripping in high value items. Only one struggle was allowed.

You refused to part with your earrings, lovely, delicate, dangly little things.

“Shame, those earbobs would have made a killing too.”

There was a considerable silence and a pensive look on your face. You were many things but ungrateful or unreasonable were not any of them. Anyone could have found you and done anything with you. Your ankle was swollen and clearly a new unwanted complication to this landscape. They didn’t have to help. It would have made their own trip back home to safety easier. The least you could do was help where you could.

“Not my earrings but… here.” You unlooped your arm from the young teen boy that helped you hobble along.

Team Akuta watched you pull a beautiful ring off your left hand. Enjin studied you for a moment when you presented it to him. He cut through the tension with a jest.

“Ya sure, lady? This looks like some nice family heirloom or something?”

“It isn’t. I won’t be needing it anymore anyhow.”

You were weary of everything, the entire trip back and your whole first week on the ground. Dilated pupils and hitched breath with every new face that approached you. 

You warmed up to the kids first, then Semiu, then Eisha and August. But it wasn't until the boss, himself, came to speak with you a few days later in the infirmary that you finally seemed to settle. 

Arkha Corvus took his time, calmly and patiently, explained everything to you about the Cleaners and what they did. You had what felt like an endless stream of follow up questions.

Color Enjin fucking surprised when at the very end of you lengthy conversation with Corvus, you asked to sign up.

Corvus tried to comfort you with the possibility of returning home. He told you about some people’s pursuit of finding a way back to the Sphere and offered a likeness to bond over with Rudo.

Enjin’s jaw damn near dropped when you politely refused that avenue.

“I would like to sign up… but I do not want to go back.”

While you were not shy to voice your discomfort, one complaint you made sure to keep to yourself, was living on the Sphere. By no means did you ever want to come across like life was so much worse up there. Finally seeing first hand all the hardships on the ground, you knew you had it better. On the ground there was constant danger, from trash beasts, the landscape, the falling debris, even the air itself was poisonous.

On the Sphere, you never went hungry or thirsty. You always had the medicine you needed if you got sick, a roof over your head. But the Sphere…

People hated the Sphere for the way it treated everyone beneath it. How it tossed aside everything in excess, anything deemed unworthy. How a single tarnishment or undesirable quality was grounds to be culled and discarded. That philosophy didn’t stop with just things.

Perfection was mandatory. Perfection was survival. Everything was a competition. Every little thing you said, did, wore, ate, etc. was measured for weakness. The Sphere was like a pit of vipers. Constantly looking for a flaw to exploit, a misstep to crucify you with. Everyday was constant vigilance, a game of wits, a social gauntlet.

To be a social pariah for any reason on the Sphere was death or ruin. Even then, you could do everything correctly and still lose if you weren’t sharp enough.

You were a scholar, a life long academic with your sights set on bureaucracy. A list of initiatives and causes a mile long but none of them truly mattered at the end of the day. An ambitious fire tempered by the shallowness of the world around, while you had dreams most of them would leave you an outcast. Everything bored you about the Sphere. You were a driven soul stir crazy for purpose. 

Poised and perfect, head of your class, leader of your organizations and committees. In layman’s terms, an overachiever. With a hungry mind and restless heart you wanted to do something worthwhile. All the paths laid for you left you unsatisfied, you set your eyes on lofty goals. What if we could salvage the world? Instead of this comfortable stagnation that you proposed would be unsustainable. 

Everything on the Sphere was dull. Dating on the Sphere was a bore. You’d had your fair share of boyfriends. Eventually you met what your parents selected for you as the one.

An arrangement between your families, decided and planned on both your behalfs. He was actually kind of good looking, you attended school together, met again through work and had hit it off. Your parents decided during the first week you two would marry after the proper courting ritual.

You remembered being thrilled. You had gotten along well, great even. The best boyfriend you had ever had. So you two continued on behind closed doors. All the proper and appropriate courting in public but you were together in private. He said he liked your boldness. He liked your brilliance and working together with you. You partnered together on every campaign, project, initiative, movement, research study, so on and so forth.

You thought everything was going to go well. Until you made the mistake of forgetting where you were. 

The night you confided in him about deciding to pivot your goals in your career and pursue change was the night you saw you were also just an accessory. Your boldness was palatable as long as it suited his palate. 

He revealed the expectation that you were to retire after marriage. Everything on the Sphere was picture perfect. A wife and children were perfect additions to one’s image in society. Assets to bolster his candidacy for his pursuits. People liked propriety, constancy, and safety. You were a lifelong social climbing tactic of promising security, certitude, and above all, the status quo.

“This talk of the finiteness of our peace will scare people. Disrupt orderliness, incite terror.”

We should be afraid.

“But I am not archaic. I would not deny us both your brilliance. You are more than welcome to continue providing your facilitations and counsel to our pursuits in private. To refrain from utilizing your adroit efficacy would be foolish. Though you, of course, would need to cease your penchant for your… midnight proclivities.”

He spoke like he was negotiating a contract and not the rest of your life. You forgot, people were merely business partners, investments, competition. Silly you.

The cards were dealt and this was the role you were to conform to. Give up your convictions and spend the rest of your life working towards the antithesis of your beliefs while he reaped all the rewards and renown. Was he still talking?

“No.”

“... then, of course, I would presen–excuse you?”

It all quickly fell apart from there after. It was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Don’t make him look bad by stirring the pot. The engagement couldn’t be ended, you were already public. Breaking it would cause a stain to his reputation.

You didn’t comply. You wouldn’t be his accessory and you could not keep quiet so you couldn’t be his wife anymore. But he couldn't dissolve your betrothal without tarnishment which led to the only acceptable manner to disburden himself of you. 

No one could fault a widower. Would he even technically be a widower if you hadn’t married yet? It didn't matter. It was how you ended up here. Corvus accepted your offer to sign up on the spot. 

If you had told Enjin that a cute little thing like you ended up here because of having a hit out on you, Enjin would've believed it. However, he thought at the very least you would have been framed for something like Rudo. But your Fiancee just straight up tried to ice you in the dead of night. The Sphere just sounded worse and worse the more he learned about it. 

Enjin honestly expected you to struggle. To have squeaked and squawked at everything that displeased you. To throw yourself into despair at the first sign of trouble but you weirdly enough, acclimated. Dare he say, thrived?

Your pack was probably alphabetized. Whenever he needed to stop in or pass by your room in HQ, everything was orderly, neat and color coded. Despite your complaining you requested to attend every job you could. You asked countless questions and asked everyone to show you how to do things yourself. Honestly you were much better suited for office work with the bigwigs but you wanted to be on the field. 

With your social skills, brains, quick wit and sharp tongue you quickly became the go-to for recon, spy and intel assignments. But since you also signed up for every assignment under the sun that meant you and Enjin spent copious amounts of time together. 

An undeniable born and bred Sphereite but unlike Rudo, from high society.

The truest blue blood he’d ever seen. You were a classy lady and a total smokeshow. How you managed to look elegant in the same uniforms and materials as all the rest of them, Enjin had no idea. You possessed an ample figure and perfect posture, courtesy of your ritzy Sphererite upbringing, highlighted by your uniform. Seriously, how did you do that?

There was never a moment you didn’t look like royalty. Your uniform was somehow always void of stains or any kind of wrinkles. Your casual wear on off days was put together and classy. While you moaned daily about the loss of your boudoir you took meticulous care with what you had.

Always done up like a fancy woman. Pretty lipstick fixed into a permanent disapproving pout whenever Enjin was around. Perfectly manicured and painted nails that never chipped that, at least once a day, pointed directly between his eyes during a lecture. Your pair of dangly earrings you refused to part with, bobbed delicately when you spoke. It became a habit whenever he was tuning you out to catch himself looking at them instead. They naturally drew the eye down to the column of your neck.

A delicate smile usually hidden behind your pretty painted nails. Elegant features highlighted by your stern expressions that made you downright unapproachable.

He caught between blinks, quiet moments, and imperceptible sighs, the interest to connect and make friends but were not sure how to. Maybe scared people didn’t like you. Or that they assumed you wouldn’t like them.

He began instigating just to get a reaction out of you. You always rose to the occasion. It just so happened to help people see that you were human too. And besides, he found bothering you was fun.

When he flicked your earrings, you swatted away his hand. Whenever you bent over and he got to check out the high slit in your skirt or a peek of your thigh high boots he whistled. To which you promptly told him to go to hell.

“Hold up, hold everything,” Enjin teased you whenever you touched up your makeup on the field. “Better now, milady?”

Using whatever reflective surface that was handy you checked for any smudges, or repositioned the clasp of your necklace to the back of your neck. One time you used the metal blades on Umbreaker as a mirror.

“Yes, actually. Proceed.” You smacked and popped your lips at yourself. You looked over the blades to the wielder, unamused at his sarcasm.

Enjin almost never referred to you with your actual name. Evidently, he much preferred an endless stream of mocking titles and superlatives. Kindled further when you always retorted with snobby, smarty pants comebacks as he liked to put it.

“Snob.”

“Lowbrow.”

“Bookworm.” 

“Franion.”

“Prude.”

“Reprobate.”

“Blue blood.”

“Recidivist.”

“Now you’re just making up words!”

“I’m really not, that’s the sad part.”

“Your Highness,” Enjin grinned in anticipation, dimples flashing. Your Highness was his particular favorite on the roster. Entirely because you always lanced back with his favorite response.

“Scoundrel,” You sneered. There it was. That no nonsense bite in your voice came smoothly out, that barked haughty orders, instructions, decrees. The way you managed to look down your nose at a grown man taller than you. Pretty eyes that glared daggers at him whenever he provoked you.

Enjin’s traitorous ass kids all took a liking to you. For all your intimidating, high class demeanor, you were great with kids and teens. Being a professor refined your skills on bonding with the young. “Children teach you just as much as you teach them.”

First was, inevitably, Rudo. Enjin had to pretend to not be hurt by that. It's always the youngest ones that break your heart. Rudo followed you around like a duckling.

You were kind and worse still, inquisitive. Practically designed for Rudo to get attached. You asked him about all his projects with such nerdy, sincere interest and worst of all, the killer finishing move, you had follow up questions. OH FUCK OFF!

Two peas in a pod, two trueblooded What If-ers, your eyes lit up with curiosity the same way too. You went to Rudo to teach you all about Vital Instruments and how anima worked. Rudo made it his personal mission to help you find yours.

Riyo and Zanka, while not as completely fervent as Rudo, also grew some fondness for you.

You asked Riyo about cultural ground life questions the most. She helped you acclimate to how all the little daily things worked in this new life. But what really got the ball rolling between you was style. You talked about hair and clothes. It was so much more expressive down here. On the Sphere, while lovely, all the clothing and haircuts were uniform-like. A world surrounded by fuck ass bobs tugged at Riyo’s heart strings like you were the truest sufferer. 

Zanka was the most unexpected conundrum. While most alike in demeanor, you could barely understand him at first. It was very clear slang was not much of a thing for you but you could figure most of it out with body language and context clues. Zanka’s incredibly informal manner of speaking and rhythm sounded like another language.

You were glued to him, determined to learn. Once you had gotten adjusted to his accent you asked Zanka what any slang you didn’t understand meant. Zanka, charmed and flattered, that someone so bright needed tutelage and went to him instantly caused him to warm up. 

“‘Murc’ means kill as in to-kill or get-killed, but ‘Slay’ is a compliment of something you are doing well?”

“Yes!”

“Calling someone ‘Unc’ and saying ‘Grown Man By The Way’ are both slight jabs at someone’s age but ‘Old Lady’ can be affectionate? It sounds mean.”

“Correct! ‘Old Lady’ can be mean if you’re just calling her that but if you’re calling her someone’s old lady, then that’s affectionate. Cause you're not really talkin’ about her age.”

“Hold on, let me write this down.”

Pfft, nerd. For all his jabs at you being pretentious just when Enjin thought he understood you another contradiction revealed itself. 

You had a hidden curious and adventurous streak. Competitive and driven, you wanted to learn how to do things yourself. You would squeak, sometimes even wave your hands in fear, or shudder in disgust. However it was only ever a moment. Without fail, after a second of collecting yourself, you followed through. It was as if you were… eager to get your hands dirty.

Maybe overwhelmed initially, when faced with the reality before you, but then you committed. There was that same spark of determination that drove you through academia. While so many things made you gasp, so many other things excited you.

“Show me how to drive,” 

You had asked Gris to teach you after the first time you rode in a motor vehicle. This is where Enjin saw first hand being a life long academic demonstrating itself. You quietly observed and then replicated. You analyzed and logged with meticulous study. You repeated everything until you were satisfied with your own results. Gris gave you his blessing and the clearance to drive on missions shortly after.

On your very next outing without Gris, you turned to Enjin. “Now show me how to drive like you.”

He quirked a brow, stupid smirk on his face. “Word?”

You simply nodded. A hint of mischief hidden behind stern eyes.

“Bet.”

You learned how to do things properly, you completed tasks properly. But once everything was accounted for and secured, once all the twenty steps on your imaginary clipboard were followed and you spotted an opening, you acted out.

Now on the ground you could explore. You experimented every impulsive thought you buried deep down on the Sphere. When you first heard grounder music, it intrigued you. Enjin expected you to turn your nose but you stared in–was that fascination? Excitement? You gawked at the clothes people wore to go out, he expected you to blush and turn a prude eye. But you watched and admired all the colors women wore.

You had asked Semiu to show you grounder nightlife except only that wasn’t what you called it at first. “Can you take me to a grounder cotillion?”

“Co-what now? 

“Um, a gathering to listen to music and dance?”

“You want to go dancing? I mean, sure, but it's not going to be like any of those fancy galas you know.”

“Do you promise?”

The next time Semiu and Tomme had a night on the town you joined. What you saw titillated you. Pounding music that made your heart race. Informality abound that was raw and wild. Even though the place was dirty and dingy, everything was so much more vibrant. Electric. Alive.

Flashing lights, scantily clad grinding bodies and crackling speakers blaring heavy bass that resonated in your bones. This was everything you wished the after festivities behind closed doors back home were. Above all what ensnared you most was how animalistic the dancing was.

Promiscuity hung thick in the air, amplified by an endless variety of alcohol. So much stronger than the wines you had on the Sphere. It burned the back of your throat and caused you to cough the first time around. Semiu and Tomme encouraged and helped pace you. You knew well how to take a shot but the liquor, if you could even consider it that now, on the Sphere was water compared to this. Your nerves tingled, you giggled and hiccuped, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. 

The truth was you were pristine with a sterling reputation, at least, in public. You mastered concealing what you got up to behind closed doors and the cover of midnight. All because you wanted everything.

Organized and thorough even down to your rebelling. You took pride in your work, passions as well as impulsive desires and dedicated as much precision to them. You attended all the hidden socials, drank contraband spirits, read sultry novels and fornicated.

It was maddening how stale everything was. How shameful it was to want to feel excitement. So you didn’t let them stop you. You searched for it every night off you could. Otherwise be driven to cabin fever by the doldrums and ennui of societal life. Except the cabin was a floating rock for which there was no escape save death.

You slept with men and were disappointed. Eager to learn and experience everything you read about and kept hidden in your thoughts. In your younger years, you believed yourself the issue. As the years passed and you got older, you saw that you could enjoy your raunchy novels fine and had made yourself orgasm plenty of times. Inevitably you shedded that view. Unsatisfied, you kept having boyfriends and sex. You kept searching.

You searched for pleasure. You searched for thrills. You searched for purpose. You searched for more fulfilling goals. You searched for substance. You searched for life. Any sign of it. And now you danced. You danced and danced and danced for hours.

Imagine Enjin’s surprise when he saw you out that night. He did not approach at first and watched from a distance.

Elegant going out attire that was no doubt your definition of scandalous. A low neckline and the most leg you’d ever been permitted to show in your entire life. Your clothes hugged your figure and revealed your curves. Your midriff was exposed, soft belly pouch and love handles spilling through the opening between your cropped top and skirt. And those sexy ass earrings that drew his eyes downward now to find generous cleavage.

Well I’ll be damned.

You were shy at the start of the evening but then quickly took part. You drank and turned down men left and right like you were that girl. Which you kind of were tonight. You laughed and danced. He wondered if this must be what watching a flower bloom might feel like.

You crossed paths with others from HQ but he let you be for the most part. Only stepping in when some guys couldn’t take a hint. Hours passed before inevitably the crowd spilled into the street and began splitting up. 

Some chose to head home and others chose to go bar hopping. It was clear you were done, Semiu and Tomme telling you to take it easy for your first night out. Clearly they wanted to keep going but were being good friends. Enjin offered to take you back. He was done for the night himself.

“You sure, man?”

“Yeah, I was going to head back anyway. I’ll make sure she gets back to HQ in one piece.”

You thanked them for letting you join them tonight and parted ways. You clung to Enjin’s arm to avoid stumbling in the street.

You walked in relative silence but it was amusing being your designated walker. You were weirdly responsible, even whilst inebriated. Having reached flat out drunk earlier in the evening, you made sure to drink water and eat. Ever mindful, you had nursed yourself back to tipsy. Tipsy, for you, meant a giggly, smiling, pretty little thing that couldn’t walk in a straight line if your life depended on it. 

A quick rain burst sent you squealing underneath an awning even though Enjin clearly had Umbreaker in his hand. He followed, it looked like you needed a minute to sit anyway. He crouched down beside you on the stoop and lit a cigarette.

“Didn’t peg you for the club type, Your Highness.”

“I di-d,” You hiccuped.

“I thought you’d miss your fancy soirees or whatever the fuck you guys got going on up there? Not exactly diamond hors d'oeuvres and harps.”

“Hm, I know,” You cheesed.

“So what gives? Why did you hound Semiu about this all week?”

You hummed, pleasantly buzzed and bit your glossed lip. “... We didn’t have this on the Sphere.”

“What, clubs? Like you guys don't got music, booze or dancing up there? Probably a thousand times better than us groundfolk. No need to act like you don’t miss it I’m sure.”

You shook your head at him, sending your earrings flying. He cocked an eyebrow curiously, watched how they smacked your cheeks. “I miss a lot of things,”

“But somehow you don’t want to go back?”

“No, I don’t.” Your head swayed. “But I miss the things I had. I miss the food, and the clean water, and the buildings with no leaks. I miss my bed and I miss my perfumes and oils…”

“But?”

“But not this… not music. There’s nothing to miss. Tonight was the best music I’ve ever heard. You, here on the ground, have real music.”

Enjin smiled, scratched the corner of his smirk with his thumb and decided to correct your grammar. “We.”

You smiled. “We, here on the ground, have real music.”

You never gave details about the Sphere or why you didn’t want to go back so he never pried. None of them at HQ did. This was the first peek you gave.

“Music on the Sphere is so sterile. I’ve never heard anything like this. I didn’t know music can make you feel… so alive.”

“Well, glad to have your approval, milady.” He paused and considered. “You know, there’s a music festival coming up that might be right up your alley.”

“Is it like the music from tonight?”

“Nah, tonight was all club beats. This is more grounder rock.”

“Like the stuff Riyo listens to?” You chirped excitedly.

Damn it, you were actually pretty fucking cute. Tipsy or sober, your eyes practically glittered with giddiness when something interested you. He had to admit as far as initial impressions went, he had you all wrong.

“Yeah, it's a bunch of different bands and acts that all group up and have concerts all in the same place. It's called the Trash Talk Tour,” Enjin reached into his pocket and pulled out a creased, old flyer he had pulled off a board the other day and handed it to you. “People get dressed up in costumes and there’s usually a fireworks show too.”

You took it gleefully and struggled to read it over. You opted instead for merely admiring the picture and the long list of performers. You turned back and had your lip caught between your teeth, like a little kid debating whether or not to tell a secret.

“You know I told myself I’d never tell you this cause I’m sure you’d never let me live it down,” You giggled and then hiccuped.

A brow rose, intrigued. He watched your head sway and your earrings followed.

“But on the Sphere… I was the bad girl.”

Enjin grinned like the cat that caught the canary. Shut. Up.

He leaned in slyly. “Go on.”

And you did. You went on at length of your clandestine search for vices. Partying behind closed doors and obscured beneath responsibly completed daily schedules. Oh you were completely right.

He absolutely, positively was never going to let you live this down. He would be insufferable. Never about any of your cravings or lust for life though. This was the most human you had ever felt. But he’d bet his last smoke, if you remembered this conversation in the morning, that you’d hate that you opened up to Enjin about it. When you finished he put out his cigarette.

“C’mon… rain stopped.”

You immediately started whining. “Hmmm, I caaan’t! I can’t take another step. My feet are killing me! And I can’t walk barefoot in the street like a ruffian.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you dance wearing shoes like that for hours.” He tried not to roll his eyes. Ruffian? At this rate you two would never get back to HQ. “Come here.”

“Wha–ah!” You let out a small shriek of panic as gravity abruptly shifted beneath you. Enjin draped your arms around his shoulders and piggy backed you up off the ground. “You don’t ha–”

“It's fine. Let’s go, already! Your noble steed would like to go to fucking bed some time tonight.”

You didn’t protest anymore. Tightening your arms around his shoulders, you buried your face into his shirt, chasing that lingering cologne. Softly, you mumbled. “Thank you, Enjin.”

That was the first time you thanked him for anything. It was strange, after that night you still went at it like cats and dogs. He still may or may not have enjoyed ruffling your feathers and pulling on your proverbial pigtails. But he started paying attention to that bold side a little more.

You groaned the next morning. Not from any hangover, honestly that might have been preferable, but from Enjin’s incessant jabbering about your vulnerability the night before. Worst of all you hated how you caught yourself with flushed cheeks remembering last night.

How he walked you back home, which was sort of gentlemanly you supposed. Okay, maybe not gentlemanly but at the very least a decent man. Surprised to discover how solid his arm was underneath those long sleeves. How your heart raced when he bundled you up effortlessly and carried you home. While he complained about it, he went out of his way so you didn’t take another step on aching feet. His scent of tobacco and fading spiced cologne lingered still. 

He noticed when you were having trouble trying to talk and get to know people. Despite never saying anything, despite being trained to hide behind a stoneface your whole life, Enjin noticed. You knew what he was doing, getting under your skin all day, and appreciated it. You gave credit where it was due, he was a good team leader.

Loathed to admit it, feelings had begun to sow in you. You lashed out twice as much now in hope Enjin would not notice. But Enjin did catch it, long before you did. He never brought it up. He might be a prick but he tried not to be an asshole as much as he could help it. He thought it cute, though predictable. Waved it off as nothing serious.

Just an uptown girl face to face with something new and exciting. Something he would normally entertain. However you were a fish out of water down here, fresh from a tragic engagement and way in over your head. Once the novelty wore off, you’d move on. And he wasn’t going to capitalize on your ignorance or romanticizations. 

So he played with you. He fought with you. Once in a blue moon he sprinkled in an insinuating comeback just to watch you get flustered. You’d tell him to go to hell.

It wouldn’t last forever. Eventually you would get your bearings. You would acclimate and see the reality of your new world. When you did, a knockout like you, could have anyone of your choosing down here. An ambitious, sophisticated lady probably knew exactly what she would be into and what she was looking for. And it wouldn’t be Enjin. 

Stubborn beyond belief. It was like pulling teeth to offer any help. It was clear whatever your life was back on the Sphere, it drilled this insatiable need to be perfect. A complete teacher’s pet that studied and wrote notes about everything. Enjin would be lying if he claimed he didn’t find you impressive though.

You always had a back up plan for the back up plans, just in case. There was no T left uncrossed and no I left undotted on your watch. Methodical, militant, all your P’s and Q’s were minded.

Little Miss Perfect through and through. Of course his first natural assumption was you to have been a goody two shoes that never misbehaved a day in your life. The kind that would have sooner broken a bone before breaking a rule. Until your drunken confession showed him otherwise.

It was fun getting under your skin and watching Your High-And-Mightiness reveal your manicured claws. It didn’t matter what smart ass comment Enjin made, your parry was always at the ready. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it sexy as hell. You could take just as well as you could dish.

“See, what I tell ya?”

An almost cinematic explosion of hunting hound-like trash beasts erupted from the carcass of a giant slayed trash beast. Poured out of cracks, the open jaws and weak points in the structure, the swarm flooded the roads. Once regrouped, what looked like a leader spotted you both. The leader wrenched back its head and let out a haunting howl. In the distance you could hear the faint reply of distant swarms answering the call.

“Ahaha…”

You, somehow, glared daggers at him through your full face. Well, at least your arms were akimbo instead of crossed. So there was that.

“Oh look, the bridge you said we’d cross! Now that we got here, oh fearless leader, by all means enlighten me?”

“You know girl, your negativity is a real character flaw of yours.”

“Heeeeey, gorgeous!” Enjin sweet-talked you over the communications collars constantly. Always initiated by purposely lowering his voice to whisper in your ear.

“... No.”

“Damn, I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You didn’t have to.”

“What do you mean it's gone?”

You were glaring at him but this time it was the serious-issue he definitely did fuck up this time type of glare. He patted down his pockets, his coat, his hidden compartments within. This delivery mission’s doohicky was nowhere on him.

“Well you see–”

“When was the last time you had it?”

He rested his chin in his hand and tried to retrace his steps. The last time he felt its weight against his hand, buried in his coat was… Shit. He opened his eyes and your arms were crossed, foot tapping expectantly.

“Well?”

“Aha, that would be when I tried to shoot my shot with those bar ladies…”

“Unbelieva–”

“Hey, hey, hey ya know, I’m sure if we retraced our steps the fucking whatchamacallit–”

“Do you not even know what it's called?”

“Of course!” He brought a dramatic hand to his chest and feigned being appalled.

“What’s it called?”

“I am wounded! It's called… the… the… Woof, Zanka help me out here?” Unable to keep up the bit Enjin lowered his voice to a clearly still audible stage whisper and turned to Zanka.

“Tra–”

“Zanka, don’t help him!”

“Damn, your majesty, fine! It's called the trans… amabob-inator?”

You began spluttering. Why did you have to get paired with the most asinine ignoramus? What did you do in a past life to deserve this?

“You–y–you,” Your hands were hooked into claws, clearly trying not to throttle him.

“Me, me, me, me.”

“Don’t! You–you you l-l-l,” 

Enjin didn’t have anything smart to say because he was the one holding onto the thingamajig. The fact that he couldn’t even remember the macguffin’s name might have been the straw that caused you to short circuit. Normally so quick-witted with a smart girl clapback, here you were struggling not to kill him.

Oh damn, he really was in trouble if you were so angry you couldn’t even get the words out. 

“Lllllll-oser? No, that’s not it? Lazy! No? L-ost? L-ow iron?” Enjin tried to help you sound out whatever you were trying to call him but couldn’t think of many mean things to say that started with L. You started pounding on his chest, trying your best not to smile, even more frustrated with his assistance in your roasting of his character. “L-eft handed? It better not be lanky?”

“Uggggh!”

Already offended, he grabbed you by the wrists, restricted your swats and began arguing back about the hypothetical jab at his physique. He was grinning while he bickered, seeing you clearly trying not to laugh. The sheer ridiculousness of the moment finally broke you from your spell.

“Yooooou le-l-l… you lecherous mooncalf!” You shouted in the middle of the street. People were already stopping to stare but now it was amusing.

“Huuuuuh? What did you just call me?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Yeah, actually ya did!”

“Good! Then that means you heard me twice!”

“All in a day’s work. I made that ambush my bitch, right milady?" Enjin grinned, winking at you. He held up Umbreaker and what looked like a muffler that was also wielded in the vanquishing of foes. Grinning at you through the side of his face, Umbreaker and the Counter-Ambush-Muffler rested against his shoulders.

“I’m not going to call you a good boy, Enjin. You almost let Rudo get snatched by organ movers.”

“You’re so mean, doll!”

“Diva.”

“Louse.”

“Crybaby.”

“Vulgarian.”

“Actually, I’m a leo.” He winked. You must have lost your mind because you let out a faint snort. “Did you just laugh?”

“No!”

“You did!”

“As if! 

“I should call the boss!” He mimed activating his collar while you snipped at him. Now when you jabbed at each other there was a tinge of, dare Enjin say it, friendliness. Two people that got along because they were both assholes.

He did not fail to notice the tinge of a blush on your cheeks when you bickered or when he stood too close. Damn, he must be funny if someone smart like you had a crush on him.

Secret daredevil and moonlight wildchild you may have been, you were still a high class Sphereite. A detail that anyone could, and everyone did, clock a mile away. You were constantly getting threatened.

Attempted kidnappers and human traffickers that wanted to sell you for parts. Bandits and scavengers that wanted to rob you blind. Rudo attached to your hip any time you were on a mission together made it practically two for the price of one!

While beyond clueless about ground living or customs, which got yourself into trouble countless times, you seemed to have a knack for getting out of it too. You could bluff like a fucking champ. Spouting ancient nerdy knowledge that normally Enjin would tune out if anybody else recited to him. 

Once in the car, all possible routes blocked and the crew on their last fumes, you told everyone to look bored. Turning up the radio to full volume, you scrambled onto the roof of the car.

“What the shit is that gonna do, girl?”

“I wasn’t fucking asking. I am telling you! Look bored, you squawking buzzard!”

“Noooo, mom and dad are fighting. Please not in front of the kids.” Riyo deadpanned from the backseat. Enjin whirled on her, spluttering, while you laughed already climbing out your window.

“Excuse you?”

“Just listen to her, we’re going to die anyway, so might as well.”

When the enemies had reached you, they found a parked car playing music. Sphereite woman perched prettily out in the open, filing her nails, unbothered. You looked up at the opposing force and waved. The real kicker was when you pretended to check the time.

“Boss… that’s a fucking trap.”

“Now that I think about it, don’t cleaners usually have whole teams? I'm only seeing a guy, the Sphereite bitch and a bunch of kids.”

You huffed impatiently, making a show of looking like you were ready to wrap this up. You started lazily counting men with your nail file and kicking your little feet that dangled over the side.

Enjin could not believe it. You were not pulling a life or death bluff, were you? He was so angry. He was so proud. He was so going to teach you how to play poker if they managed to make it back to HQ alive. If he called dibs on you as a partner now–

“Yeah, let’s regroup with the rest before heading in. Would’ve worked too if that lady wasn’t such a bad liar.”

Holy fuck. In a few minutes the roads were cleared and Enjin had them shrinking in the rearview. The kids clapped on you from the backseat. When Enjin asked what the fuck that was you cited some smart girl bullshit about classic literature from the ancient world.

In the novel, a general had blundered and had his soldiers sent away somewhere else. The city was left completely defenseless. While the soldiers were all gone, the opposing army started marching in on them. The general had opened the gates wide, sat atop his open walls and started playing music. The opposing army bought his gammon of making the attack on the city look too easy. Believing it was a trap they retreated.

“Like Riyo said, we didn’t stand a chance of winning so I thought, might as well.”

“You know what, Miss Thing, hell yeah! Classic literature slaps!”

You used long words that sounded like poetry coming out your mouth. You read thick books that looked sexy in your hands. You analyzed maps and consulted strategies. You played chess and shit. You were killer at poker. Years of etiquette training, honing your prudence and decorum made you a natural.

Introducing you to Alice had made Enjin’s entire day. He worshipped the woman himself and knew you would too. Alice instantaneously became your new favorite person and you had practically inhaled her research. You were the newest member to the Alice fan club and vice president now. Bowing only to Enjin’s seniority in the position.

“You’re new to this, I’m true to this life.” As he had put it. You laughed.

As a professional Miss Busybody, there was never not a project going on. Either always in the middle of learning a new skill or heralding a new theory. Somewhere along the way you had volunteered to the big man about accumulating all the discoveries from the field and conducting research towards the cause. Even talked the brass into letting you man the new initiative of setting up and running a library at HQ.

You and Tomme had hit it off with flying colors. As the other resident nerd that recorded everything she practically lit up like a firework when you pitched to her the project. Thick as thieves from that point onward. 

Sometimes Enjin would walk by or stop in to check on your progress with the passion project. You looked so in place. Like this was your natural habitat. Smooth hands dotted with callous, the permanent writer’s bump on some fingers. Evidence of years in libraries and lecture halls. 

There was quite a bit of formal training and study that involved joining the Cleaners organization. The physiology of trash beasts, the study of anima, actual physics to better master their techniques, so on and so forth. Not to mention plenty of members that were children still in need of the basic courses. 

Naturally, Miss Thing, you finished in record timing. Though you tried your best to shade and hide your excitement. Enjin may or may not have been the only one to catch how your eyes glimmered if anyone asked for help on an assignment or question.

Enjin may or may not have mentioned your having been a professor or some kind of fancy teacher whatever-the-fuck back on the Sphere around the boss. How you connected with the youth on his team so naturally. He made damn sure to wander into the library when Corvus approached with his offer.

It was adorable the way you lit up, tried so hard not to tear up, when asked to be a teacher again for the Cleaners. How you tried not to jump at accepting and play it cool. When Corvus left it was just you and Enjin in the room.

“Thank you.” Your voice was thick and didn’t trust yourself to say much else.

“Who, me? What makes you think I had anything to do with this? Besides, it only makes sense to set you up with that gig.”

“Hm, of course you’re right. Apologies for my accusations.” You smiled, possibly the softest he’s ever seen you smile too.

“Have fun though, Teach.”

They lined the wall behind your desk with a salvaged chalkboard. You plotted out a course plan within a week. Between assignments you taught classes in your library several times a week. You taught everything; reading, science, mathematics and history. The classes were small and very hands-on.

Enjin watched you teach a few times. He saw firsthand how animated you were standing at your blackboard, an open book in one hand and chalk in the other. How you made sure everyone felt comfortable enough to ask for help and raise their hand when they needed it.

The lessons were pretty open and flexible, considering your classes consisted of a wide range of different ages, levels and needs. A few of the adults sat in during subjects they might have missed out on growing up once in a while. You made sure to make them feel welcome.

There were a few evenings when your girls nights were hosted in your library. It wasn’t often but it was hard to miss. It was actually kind of funny how you and your friends struggled to keep your voices down. You made sure it was always late into the evening and you called the shots in the library anyway.

This corner of the base began to feel like your domain. The same way the front desk belonged to Semiu. There were times Enjin would find his feet taking him there on autopilot before he realized what he was doing. You could be found hard at work researching well into the late hours of the evening.

He had discovered you asleep at your desk a few times. You’d wake up the morning after with his coat around your shoulders. He never moved you or woke you up. You looked happy. Regaining such a familiar part of your life that you clearly had missed more than you let on.

Falling asleep doing research was part of your fun, a mark of your craft. In a similar vein to athletes when drenched in sweat. Or artists covered in paint. For you, sleep lines on your cheek in the shapes of books and hands covered in chalk or ink. Dork.

Whenever he did stop in, you would tell him to be useful. Enjin was often ordered to either lift something heavy or handle high shelves for you. He pretended to avoid you like the plague, playing up the act of dodging work but he always managed to check in regularly. He always managed to let himself be caught by you. He listened when you bossed him around and had to hide how much he enjoyed watching you in your element.

More than once when Enjin relieved himself at night, images of dangly earrings accentuating a kissbitten neck, craned over some records flashed through his head. Snippets of you critiquing him played back in the dark. Clips of soft hands scribbling away at chalkboards became some of his favorite reruns past midnight.

He started more often leaning toward nerdy fantasies. Involving nerdy librarians, scholarly professors or desk papers swept off the surface in a frenzy. He waved it off as it was only natural. He was a healthy young guy and you were a stunner. There was nothing to feel weird about. It was nothing, he was certain.

You were smiling. Those small smiles people got when they were talking to someone they enjoyed talking to. You were nodding, lost in conversation, clearly agreeing with Corvus. Whatever it is you were talking about it seemed you two were eye to eye on the subject. 

Probably something sophisticated. Enjin’s jaw tightened. 

Enjin caught himself getting irritated when you spoke to Corvus about books. When he spotted you together walking down the halls, his chest got tight. He’d butt into those conversations when he could. Only then, most times, needing to mask how it peeved him that he couldn’t contribute or understand much of the conversation.

He picked up a perfectly good dictionary that was still in one piece the next time he went out. ‘It’s nothing.’ He insisted.

It fit perfectly in his pocket and it would help him keep up with your rapport. It would only become weird if he made it weird. Besides it would make for a good bit or a run on gag. He could whip it out the next time you said something professorly. It was just for a joke, just to make you laugh.

It had been some time now since meeting you. You had gotten your feet under you and you were pretty well settled into this new life in this new world. Nowhere near as impressionable as when you first started. You still found him funny and he liked to make you laugh.

At some point the bickering felt more like bantering. At some point the arguing became competitive. The constant back and forth, sometimes teasing and other times genuine, felt like a daily game of poker he got to enjoy. Eventually it reached the point where you two started tagteaming people you didn’t like together. 

It was obvious to others. That his smirks and wisecracks were not just playful. Were not just for fun alone or entirely meaningless. Others saw the smirks and teasing, yes, but they also saw everything unbeknownst to either one of you.

Semiu watched you two argue down the street. Bro caught the rain that slowly began to dot the pavement, announcing itself before openly pouring. Gris spied how mid-rebuttal, without stopping to pause his argument, Enjin held his hand up at the first drop of rain and opened Umbreaker. They noticed how he leaned Umbreaker closer to your side. How he shielded you more than himself.

Look, man. Don’t even get him started. Enjin tried so hard, and failed, to be respectful. He really, only sort of kind of, did.

Full hips and a plump ass that filled out your nerdy skirts. Kneadable plush spilling from underneath your going-out tops. A lifelong fan of rounder and curvier ladies, he thanked the powers that be for his giant oven mitts so that he could, in fact, handle all that.  Not that he was going to or anything.

Weeks rolled by and what started as occasionally cameoing in his late night fantasies evolved to star of the show every time. Humble beginnings as a guest star in his shower thoughts, now you were the leading lady. Enjin knew he was down pretty bad when he started losing interest in attention or propositions from anybody else. He had to come clean, at least to himself, that he took a liking to you. You were pretty as fuck, smarter than him and he was a weak man.

You might be covered up a lot of the time, but he could still enjoy and see everything without seeing anything. Silhouettes, imprints and ghosts of your shape pressed into your clothes. The impression of your belly button when you wore those slip skirts. The ravine that straps created on your shoulders.

Soft, heaving tits that rose and fell when you got worked up. He shamelessly enjoyed watching your chubby thighs expand when you sat down.

He managed to always find a way every assignment together to snake an arm around your waist and fly you out of harm’s way on Umbreaker. Or whenever you found yourselves in tight spaces, Enjin always passed behind you with a hand on your waist to guide your body when he needed to scooch by.

Pliant, doughy love handles rested underneath his palm. More than once Enjin had to practise self restraint to keep himself from squeezing. Practically rolled his eyes to the back of his head and groaned at himself for how fucking pathetic he was when you sat side by side and he could feel your body heat radiating onto his side.

He imagined warming his hands on you. Your thighs keeping his ears from getting cold. His hands gripping your hips from behind while his thumbs gave you your own matching pair of dimples on the curve of your ass.

He kept his little infatuation to himself, insisting that’s all it was. The last thing you needed was another hound-dog barking up your tree. Besides, a classy lady like you, wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Nevermind anymore that you were once Sphereite elite. If he was being honest with himself it really had nothing to do with that. It was more a self inflicted curse really. That’s the problem with his type, you were always too good for him. You always deserved better and you always knew it too. If you didn’t, well, you were smart so you’d always figure it out eventually.

He could be a passing fancy. A dashing, dimpled dalliance. A guilty pleasure and a curiosity. Happy to serve as a shot of excitement; to provide a taste for the rough and tumble and humble. A tall tattooed temptation but that was where the buck stopped.

He may not have been the most scholarly or cerebral of guys, but he was sharp enough to learn the hard way, as was how he learned everything. After some time around the block and his fair share of heart breaks he had to come to terms with the undeniable truth. He wasn’t his type’s cup of tea.

So he adapted. He learned to savor the chapter of teasing, flirting, and furtive glances. To bask in the moment of being the something-sweet you crave after well balanced meals. To sate himself with transient affection.

Cause that’s all it ever was. A chapter, but never the book. A moment, but never a life. A dessert, but you can’t live on sweets alone. Enjin was a fling, something casual, a sneaky link, no strings attached. He was the favorite eater on the roster. He was for rebounds. He was for making exes jealous. Enjin was for fun. He wasn’t anything serious.

He was a young man, and let’s call a spade a spade, a womanizer. His reputation was fairly earned. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy his role most of the time as an active participant in hook up culture.

However, truth be told, there were a few instances in his life when he didn’t. Only a small handful really. Particularly nowadays as he got older.

He usually minimized it to get through it. Told himself it was a bummer and kept it pushing cause, in the end, that’s all anyone really can do about it. He was not much for wallowing in sorrow or self pity. Not much for the woes-me routine either, himself. Enjin’s heartbreaks were reserved for closer friends or sharper eyes.

He’d have drinks with someone. Nothing sloppy or self destructive or loud. It was more quiet dive pubs and sitting in silence with a friend he didn’t need to say anything to because they already knew. He never denied or tried to bury it; he always let himself feel it. Enjin bled quietly.

So yeah… There were only a few, specifically with beautiful, smart, curvy women, that it really fucking sucked. But like with everything else on the ground, he made the most out of scraps.

Plump was a rarer, though not impossible, body type to find on the ground. It stood within reason that he constantly had to fight off creeps and losers. The worst part was how clueless you were to that kind of attention. For someone so fucking smart how could you be that oblivious. While you were by no means shy, it didn’t seem to compute when dudes tried flirting or shooting their shot with you.

He finally brought it up after one night at the club ended with Enjin in a pretty nasty fist fight. Sat beside him on the sidewalk, you nursed the shiner bubbling on his face with the ice from his drink.

The chill pressed against his face helped soothe the sting. The warmth pressed against his side however had the opposite of a cooling effect on him. Enjin’s entire body was alight and very aware of your side against him. The supple give of your form and how it yielded to the hard lines of his own. Where you were pressed against one another you molded to him. He was no better than a man… 

“How do you not notice the way dudes drool every time we party, dollface?”

“I guess I’m not used to that kind of attention so out in the open.” 

“Huuuh? Be so fucking for real.”

You explained that while you may have ran with all the cool kids (pfft, sure) and thrill seekers it ended within the confines of that circle. You had your fair share of secret boytoys for being one of the covert ‘fast’ girls that put out but that was about it. Empathy tugged at his heartstrings. You were a clandestine rollick under the shroud of night but in the light of day…

“On the Sphere, svelteness and being trim is desirable in women.” 

That might have set him off as much as the panting, pawing piece of shit he had to lay out flat earlier. What did you mean by the Sphere? Like the entire damn thing? Another cultural clash revealed itself.

Enjin really struggled to wrap his head around the concept of an entire population having a hivemind mentality on what’s pretty. That was such a personal, individual thing. The ground had no such discriminations for either side of the spectrum in a lady. They didn’t have a collective consensus of ‘requirements’ to begin with when it came to attraction. They all had actual problems to worry about down here. Why the fuck would they waste time inventing new, imaginary ones?

The grounder mentality was everybody was somebody’s cup of tea.

Down here people were starving, meanwhile up there people were purposefully driving young women to skimp meals. Maybe it was just the pangs of bad memories from his own upbringing, but the idea of little girls in houses full of food being scolded for looking at it made him fume.

You told him about all the other beauty requirements and he could feel his blood pressure rise. Hairlessness, no stretchmarks whatsoever, women should be shorter, which how the fuck do you control height? He couldn’t even understand what the fuck cellulite was no matter how many times you explained it.

“Full offense when I say this, but dudes on the Sphere sound like little bitches that wanna fuck plucked chickens.”

You snorted and echoed him, “Plucked chickens, I can’t!”

In your giggle fit you tried to list a few more but Enjin stopped you from sharing any other details with a raised hand. “Seriously, don’t piss me off.”

You collapsed onto his shoulder. Encouraged by making you double over, his sarcastic antics continued. You devolved into side splitting laughter. A laugh that sounded like crystals jingling, rare and earned. He smiled watching you.

Enjin knew you knew he knew. Having become thick as thieves after a while. Possibly going as far to start saying best friends at this point. You tried as hard as you could to hide those feelings but just like how he was the only one who noticed your want to get to know people, he caught this too.

He was a sweetheart about it and you appreciated how much grace he showed you. He was a decent guy–okay, a good guy. Who understood that all the more aggressive snipping in the beginning was out of fear.

You were a grown woman, with a fully developed frontal lobe and multiple degrees. So you understood that in high stress situations, after fight or flight, there were also the less spoken about reactions, freeze and fawn. Fawn was dangerous. 

Enjin became your leader when your whole life was turned inside out, not to mention he and his crew saved your life. Hardly the foundation for anything healthy. You were clear enough of mind to understand that you were at your most vulnerable and if the wrong person entered your life with ill intentions, they would be able to do some serious damage.

So you chose to fight to give yourself space and tried your hardest to grow past those feelings. Time went on and then with clarity and objectivity acquired you knew with concrete certainty. You did fall first but that you had been in no way the right place to do anything about it.

Over time you righted yourself up again. Sowed yourself into this new world and took root. Got to know others in the landscape. And yet... Over time, it didn’t go away, only strengthened. Over time you got to know him, you grew closer, you bonded, you trusted him. You learned and saw for yourself, Enjin was someone worth falling for.

Weeks had gone by and he let himself indulge. Slowly he let the bantering evolve by adding in some open teasing regularly now. Some platonic flirting wouldn’t hurt, right? 

Eventually the flirting became just as second place as the arguing. What began as abrasive, two forces at odds, settled into familiarity and playfulness. You drove each other insane regularly but somewhere along the way comfort took root. Two forces that found a sort of kinship in one another. Someone that did not balk away but embraced and delighted in the rapport and verbal sparring.

You could be bold with him. Then you saw you could be loud and mean and snarky. There were moments when you were scared that you had taken it too far. That was too snippy, too bitchy, too nasty. 

Your eyes went wide, apology at the ready, prepared to spiral for weeks and kick yourself for letting yourself slip like that.

Enjin would grin and exhale his cigarette smoke through his nose. An evil, playful glint in his golden eyes harbingered the promise of oncoming rascality. He looked entirely too much like a dragon tantalized by the morsel before him.

“Oh yeah, Your Highness?” He’d croon.

The lump in your throat went down. Nerves melted away only to ignite into electric charge. You were in danger, and you really, really liked it. More than once you caught yourself, eyes lingering, a pleasant feeling blossoming when he was near. Enjoyed in silence, enjoyed in loudness, it was nice to be known. No one knew you like he did. 

Call him crazy but he could catch the interest was still present. Although now it would be more along the lines of reciprocated chemistry. Half lidded, siren eyes that watched him move.

You stood together, deep in conversation, having drifted well within each other's personal space. Almost ritualistic nowadays, drawn in by the other’s gravitational pull without realizing until you had already been hovering in the other’s orbit.

You were smiling. Those small smiles people got when they’re talking to someone they enjoyed talking with.

Mid-conversation he pulled out a smoke and held it between his lips, speaking from the corner of his mouth. The tension of the act naturally hollowed out his dimples and brought them out in full view. His large hands dug into his pockets before patting down his person, hunting for his lighter. You hung on his every word, transfixed on his wandering hands that came up empty.

Enjin stopped talking when you pulled out the spare lighter you apparently started carrying around. You held it there lit between you.

He grinned. “Thanks, mama.”

He could have just plucked the cigarette from his mouth and held it to the flame but where would the fun in that be?

He slid his hand over yours so you both held the lighter together steady. His hand engulfed yours, cupping and shielding the flame from the breeze. Tilting his head down some, he brought your hand up to his mouth and lit his cigarette. Eyes on you, he winked. When smoke curled from his nose, he closed your hand and snapped your lighter shut.

Your throat bobbed. Cute.

He’d noticed for a minute now the way your eyes followed his hands when he smoked. He tried his best to smoke at least one cigarette around you now constantly. He’d noticed the way your breath hitched when he started sprinkling more intimate pet names. The kind that guys on the ground used with their significant others. They were now seamlessly added to his roster of superlatives for you. 

His smile was annoying. Smug and charming might just be the most insufferable combination in the world. He easily had the biggest hands you had ever seen, accentuated by tattooed rings and painted nails. His pierced ears, tattoos, undercut and, hell, even the buttons he decorated his coat with made him look rugged and wild. You may have been the bad girl back home, but standing next to Enjin revealed that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of punk or cool. But it was more than that, you liked how much pride he took in his appearance, how expressive it all was. The worst of his transgressions though were easily those damn dimples.

He listened intently when you spoke but when he caught you staring while he smoked, he’d smile wolfishly. His dimples, emerging between blinks, then dotted his face and caused you to stumble over your words more than once.

When he wasn’t talking, a rarity, you could nab a glimpse of them. They caught you off guard when you first noticed them. Little soft divots, served as punctuation marks, framing his smiles and expressions. They added a boyish charm back to him. 

On hot days or when he was working out, he began the habit of wiping sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. He leaned against doorframes when you two talked at HQ. When he stretched around you he’d let his shirt ride up so you could catch a glimpse of the waistband of his boxers or his happy trail.

Enjin was such… a man. Guys on the Sphere were never… like this. As a matter of fact, Enjin made all your Sphererite exes feel like boys. It was a daily occurrence to be captivated by his broad shoulders and dark tattoos, taunting you from underneath his clothes. When he caught you angling to see more of his ink, he began wearing shorter sleeves or rolled up his longer ones casually midconversation to tease you.

‘Is this what female birds feel like?’ You caught yourself thinking once.

It had slammed him like a truck when he saw it wasn’t just creeps and losers barking up your tree. A few of the friends you made signed up as volunteer assistants every once in a while to help with shelving and cataloging. They also loved their share of gossip.

It wiped the smirk off his face when your friends were not so subtly giggling, gossiping and eavesdropping about a scene in the stacks. He approached ready to make a lame joke about working hard or hardly working when they shushed him. Warned him not to disrupt or get them caught, completely oblivious that everyone could hear them. When he peeked around to see what they were on about, his stomach dropped.

Enjin saw pleasant, smiling, friendly conversation between yourself and Gris. You were talking through a gap in the shelf. Having moved some heavy books aside while shelving and there was Gris browsing on the other side. You had been chatting like that for twenty minutes according to your friends.

Gris wasn’t a creep or a loser. He was a good guy. Clean, responsible, handsome and in the same age range as you and Enjin. Enjin’s jaw ticked. It was hard to explain, it wasn’t jealousy or anger that filled him. More of a sourness or bitterness that made him turn away, tired of that story they were whispering about. Gris was a good man, the kind that was always something serious. 

Soon after, farewells were finally exchanged between you. You returned to work and slid down the aisle. Spotted your nosy friends and shooed them to get back to work. They scattered. He watched you, unnoticed yet through the shelf. How you mumbled categories to yourself, leaning on your rolling ladder. 

Until you abruptly slid some books aside right by Enjin’s head. You were startled for half a second before smiling at him through the gap.

“Hello, Enjin.”

“Milady, come here often?” He winked.

“Pfft,” You rolled your eyes. 

Enjin laid on the charm thick as you talked. You didn’t blush or get nervous anymore when he flirted or teased you. The grown woman's self confidence had returned to you. Now you rolled your eyes, played hard to get and were flippant with him. It all sounded suspiciously like saying, ‘eat your heart out.’ Now you smirked when he flirted with you platonically, that sounded suspiciously like, ‘do something about it.’

You stayed like that, talking through the opening between the shelves, for an hour. 

After some time of this long, elaborate mating dance he let himself indulge in a few more hypotheticals. He wondered if maybe down the hall at night you thought about him too. Maybe at the same time he thought of you?

When he took himself in his hand and worked himself up, did you hitch your breath while you flipped the page of your book. Any one of those smutty stories you had on your shelves; alphabetized, annotated and highlighted to hell and back. Fuck, you were cute.

Would it be possible that maybe the dorky rakes wearing poet shirts from your books began having blonde hair and tattoos? Did you always have a thing for troublemakers and badboys? Did your books begin starring rogues with large, rough hands and dimples? 

Did your own hand disappear beneath your blanket? Did you think of fingers with tattooed rings in their place that disappeared inside you? Did you have to bite your lip to keep quiet like he did? 

You confided in him once. One quiet evening spent in, while he taught you how to cheat at poker. Told him how none of your boytoys satisfied you like you did. What a complete waste that was.

Music up there was so bland until you came to the ground. Did those rakes maybe start to feel boring once you saw real troublemakers? When you finally let yourself stop being shy in the privacy of your own room, did you let yourself indulge like him?

Let yourself think of tall blondes that could finally rail you like you always wanted. Like you deserved. Blushed at fantasizing about being squeezed, bruised and tossed around. Let yourself entertain the notion of finally meeting a man that could make you cum like all the heroines in your stories seemed to always be able to find. Maybe even let yourself ask what if you finally already met him? Let yourself picture Enjin being that man for you.

Enjin could be that for you. He could be the lead in your story that treated you right. He could be the man whose name you cried out. That pounded you into the mattress and caressed you afterwards. That would never let you go unsatisfied again.

Enjin let himself hope. He could be your man and that, maybe, you hoped for that too. Fuck!

He spilled in his hand. Enjin laid there panting and stared at his ceiling.

In the following days he realized two things. The first one caused the blood in his veins to freeze. If what always happened before happened this time…

When his charm and novelty wore off. When beautiful, intelligent, curvy, naughty women moved on. Those were always the times when not being anything serious really sucked.

The picture of you moving on though… This would be the worst one of them all. This one would be gut-wrenching.

The second one caused the blood in his veins to boil. How many times were you just a bit of fun or a quick fuck too? How many times did you find a new boyfriend and hoped it would be different? Only to be left disappointed over and over again. How many times did spoiled, Sphereite little pricks get handed a good woman and tossed you aside in the morning?

Were you excited when you were engaged? Did you think: finally, the search was over? Someone who wanted you, at least enough to keep you around. Did your heart break when you opened up and saw that that ungrateful, chicken-fucking Asshole didn’t want any of what made you you.

The stark difference between how you were when you and Enjin first met versus now was striking. In the beginning you glared daggers at him but kept quiet. Little by little you became more vocal. He witnessed, in real time, you come out of your shell and trust him with everything hidden beneath.

When you told him about what it was like on the Sphere, he imagined you stoic and filtered. Having spent your entire life up until that point minimizing and concealing. How you needed to bite your tongue. Purge, process and purify your words. Sanitize your personality. Rectify your desires. Censor your thoughts.

The mere idea of you dimming your spark enraged him. 

Strangle. Smother. Quash. Muzzle. Suppress. Silence. 

That one was pretty close. 

These were the only kinds of words he could dig up when he thought of you like that. They all hit the nail right on the head, but none of them were the exact one he was trying to get out of his mouth. He flipped through his dictionary when he couldn’t find the word himself.

Then the one time you tried to unmask and reveal yourself–

… Erase… That son of a bitch tried to erase you.

That spoiled prick was given a work of art and treated you like a stain. Swept you under the rug because you didn’t fit in his tiny, boring frame above the mantle. But here you were, the loudest you had ever been.

He could be that man for you. Enjin had had his fair share of fuck ups and failures. He was knuckle headed and learned things the hard way. He was the furthest thing from perfect. He was broken and duck taped back together. Several of his breakups he definitely deserved and had coming. But it was like he told Rudo, he recognized his faults and saw where he needed to change. 

If he had met you ten or five years ago, he would’ve fucked this up royally. But you didn’t meet ten or five years ago. You met now, after all the growing pains. Enjin was a grounder at the end of the day. When he broke something, he fixed it. He could be that man you wanted, that you should have been had at this point honestly. 

And when he fucked up, he would fix it. He would do right by you. If you gave him the same chance. It’s why he always said he liked the forgiving type. He lived in a harsh world with downright cruel circumstances. Failures on the ground had unfairly heavier costs. And the reality was everyone in this world was only human at the end of the day, those ladened costs were inevitable.

You trusted your bitch-ass Fiancee with your true self, your vulnerability, your fiery passion, your spark. And he left you shivering in the pouring rain.

But Enjin wouldn’t. He’d cherish whatever pieces you gave him. When he stumbled, he’d make it right. If you left it up to him, he’d get it done. If you trusted him with your spark, your secrets, your heart, he’d keep them.

Dry under his umbrella. Warm inside his coat. Safe in his hands.

And you did. He saw it in all the little things. You forgave him and trusted him with your secrets over and over.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Course,”

“I technically wasn’t ‘thrown out’ with the trash…” He watched you chew your lip. Nervous energy permeated off of you, big doe eyes afraid. “I jumped.”

“Isn’t that basically suicide though? From what you’ve told me you guys don’t know anything about the ground, it's called the pit, it could’ve been a bottomless pit for all you knew.” Enjin’s eyes were glued to you, hyperobservant as always.

“Correct… My betrothed hired people to make me disappear and I ran until I was cornered. It was a simple calculation. I wasn’t strong… at the time. I didn’t have a chance of winning. Out of pure dumb luck, it happened to be the day for soft materials and household garbage to be thrown, clothes, bedding, food waste, you name it. They were going to throw me out with the garbage when they killed me anyway, if I stayed I would hit the ground dead. If I jumped, the odds were infinity to one…”

“Infinity to one what?”

“For the infinity, death. For the one, anything… While I would most likely die, there was that one slim chance that could be anything.”

“What do you think now that you’ve seen what that anything ended up being?”

There were bad people everywhere but it wasn’t until you fell from grace and landed in hell that you found friends. There raiders and robbers and scavengers and human traffickers on the ground. But there was also Semiu, Tomme, all the children and Enjin. Weary of each other at first you may have been, this was the first time in your life you had people. 

Enjin, for all his brashness, took care of those kids. For all his cheek and smart mouth, looked out for people. Despite all your instincts screaming at you. Despite there being plenty of snakes on the ground. This was also the first time you met people you could trust. So even though he was an arrogant, annoying, crude, manwhore; Enjin always watched your back.

Anyone could have found you. The organ movers, the slavers, the raiders. Zodyl, no doubt, would have killed to be Enjin when either Rudo or you hit the ground. But when you opened your eyes, three young pairs looked back. For all the righteously placed anger they could have held, you saw only caution mixed with concern. 

“I think I might just be the luckiest person alive.”

“Ye of little faith, mama.” He grinned once when a mission was completed. It had started well, went quickly sideways but he had steered it back–in a right answer with the wrong formula sort of way but you got there in the end.

You shook your head incredulously at him and rolled your eyes but you were smiling. “I always trust you.”

Despite all your nagging and criticisms–actually… He reconsidered himself. Because of the nagging and criticisms. He didn’t see it at first, but all the lectures, reprimands, critiques and chastises were not for the sake of complaining and disapproving every little thing about him.

Loathe he had been to admit it way back when during your training, a messy pack in an emergency could cost life saving seconds. Reckless guessing could double the risks of discovery. You may have chided him for his attitude or tactics but you always did give him the keys back, referred to him on missions, and in all his mastermind-hair brained schemes you always believed it would work. 

“Yeah, I know I sound crazy and dumb. We can’t all be eggheads.” He had said once.

“You’re not dumb, Enjin.” You had told him once. “Just because you’re not the same kind of intelligence doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. You have almost unnaturally accurate intuition, that’s not something you can teach. You always know what people need to hear, you’re a good leader. And anyhow you're actually pretty good at any math or science that’s relevant to you and your technique.”

He studied you as you added extra rations to his inventory, restocked his first aid kits, the way you angled yourself beside him the moment before a fight because you knew he had you covered. Your chastising was you caring. You called him out when he deserved it but you always trusted that he’d handle things in the end. When he noticed that was when he finally started noticing other things.

The little smile you kept tucked away when you barked at him and he played with you back. During days off you always accepted whatever time he proposed to spend together. You always sat next to him during poker. You read your books in his space, absentmindedly traced the swirls of his tattoos. He was the first person you went to with gossip. When you cooked or baked, while you played with him and acted annoyed with his messing around in the kitchen you always gave him the spoon and he washed the dishes.

You only let yourself get drunk around certain people and he was one of them. How you clung to his arm and knew you’d wake up home. You didn’t have to worry about creeps and losers when he was around. You always held ice to his face when he got rid of them.

How many times had the both of you, heart broken and chipped, been used and forgotten? It genuinely pissed him off now. At first it stung, were times when it hurt. He remembered being angry about it at first. Then he learned to live with it cause there was no other option. He had lived making peace with it for years. Now he circled right back to anger.

He was so tired of this shit. Fuck it, he’d do it his damn self. He tried to imagine what it looked like if you gave him a shot. If you trusted him with your body, he’d be so damn good to you.

The smooth skin of your unblemished throat, blemished. What would your mascara look like teary eyed? Lipgloss smudged? Soft sides bruised? Clothes disheveled? He caught himself envying all your Sphereite exes and boytoys that had the privilege of witnessing it. Lucky bastards. But now, hopefully, he could be the lucky bastard.

Everything that was precious was hard to come by down here. Food, clean water, shelter, clothes. But it wasn’t just the landscape that was brutal. Good people were just as difficult to come by. Safety, medicine, trust, friends, allies were all hard earned. 

Dating on the ground was a hazard. Best case scenarios were nasty breakups, worst case scenarios were betrayal. Like he said before, everything had a heavier cost on the ground. Down here betrayal can get you sold, dead, or wishing you were dead. 

If you lucked out and found people, ones that looked out for you and cared, you took care of them. When he was a younger guy, he was a punk ass that just wanted fun. He didn’t think long term. Now as a grown ass man while he still had casual fun, honestly, he was just looking for his old lady. 

You trusted him with your safety and wellbeing. With little pieces of you. Each one he accepted, he was rewarded with another. He liked hot women who were smarter than him. Which is why he also liked a forgiving woman.

‘I’m sorry that I’m a fucking idiot.’

‘That it takes me forever to figure things out.’

‘I’ll always fix it.’

Enjin just thought he wouldn’t need to demonstrate it almost immediately to you though. But as was the way of the Abyss, disaster always had superb timing.

“That music festival is coming up, you excited?”

“Oh yes! I borrowed some of Riyo’s albums to check out some artists ahead of time,”

“What do you think about grounder rock?”

“It's so loud, it made my heart pound. It felt really angry, I didn’t know music could make you feel, I don’t know. Seen? Like… you’re not alone. I really liked them.”

His brow furrowed. Fucking hell, he began wondering if the Sphere had anything at all. 

“You got some repressed anger issues there, sweetheart?”

“Apparently, yes.”

“Nice, which stages did you want to go to?”

“Well thank you for asking, actually I really want to see all the ones Riyo didn’t have. I want to hear as many as possible but I can’t decide which ones.” You pulled out a newer flyer that had the venue and performance layout on the back. It was already highlighted and color coded because of course it was. 

“I know a couple of those groups,”

“You do?” Your eyes lit up, ready to begin annotating your margins.

You were shoulder to shoulder.

“Yeah…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I could show you a few of them. Would you be interested in wanting to go together?”

You looked up. He was already looking at you.

Years of working under pressure had steeled his resolve. He looked calm but his heart was drumming against his ribs. He waited for your response with bated breath. He had that cheeky smile on, annoyingly charming.

“You’re being mean.” Your voice was small and raw. No multi-syllable shields or pride as armor. Just a sweet girl that didn’t know how not to care so much about everything. Tired of being shamed or mocked for all the feelings you were tired of hiding.

He cursed at himself and everything else when he saw those big, doe eyes vulnerable and hurting. That was fair. You weren’t used to being taken seriously either. His resolve from before cemented into place. Fuck those noble lordly bitch-boys. Fuck your Fiancee and the Sphere he came riding on. He followed after you and spoke at the same time as you.

“I’m not, I promise–”

“This is mean. You can joke and make fun about a lot of things–”

“I’m not joking–I aint making fun–”

“I know that I look like some silly, gullible–”

“You’re not silly–”

“Infatuated ingenue–”

“What does that even mean–” he started smiling again just watching you be you.

“Or some schoolgirl crush–”

“How do you spell ingenue–” He pulled out his dictionary and started flipping through the O section.

“Struck with frivolous calf-love–”

“Calf-love? Is that like moon-calf?” He smiled flipping through the pages. Before finally, voice firm, “Hey!”

You finally stopped. Slowly, you turned to look at him again. Eyes misty.

He wasn’t frustrated. He got it. You were scared, for the exact same reason he was. If this, if you, ended up just being for some fun with him… 

This would be your gut-wrenching one that really fucking sucked too. You had your own cracks cutting into your heart and any hands that tried to pick up pieces. You thought you had already finished this before. He saw what it was really about. What if you did believe him? You believed it last time too.

You had opened up about it once. Your Fiancee and you had hit it off. He was your closest friend. You did all your nerd stuff together and you found someone to share your secret defiant side with. Someone who joined you and stayed for longer than a night. You thought you weren’t alone anymore.

“I didn’t know music could make you feel, I don’t know. Seen? Like… you’re not alone.”

How lonely did you feel in the heavenly rafters? Surrounded by people, crowds even, but no one within reach. If they hadn't found you… there were some pretty vile folk down here too.

It bites. It sucks. It’s downright dangerous being a decent person that gives a fuck in a world that couldn’t care less. So he didn’t take any offense to your reaction nor was he dissuaded by it.

Because Enjin understood. You did believe him and that’s what scared you. The last time you believed it, your best friend, the best boyfriend you had ever had, the guy you were going to marry, tried to murder you. 

You searched and searched and searched. A fiery heart driven stir crazy. Yearned to find and feel all the things that were only human. You weren’t perfect like you were supposed to be. You tried to embrace that and it almost killed you.

Enjin wasn’t the one who broke this, but he would help you mend it anyway. On the ground, if you were lucky enough to find something thrown out that was still so good, you patched it up and you kept it. He’d be the extra set of hands you need.

When you needed someone to hold something in place while you applied glue. The finger to press down on the string while you tied the bow. 

“I’m not kidding. I’m not joking. I aint messing around. I don’t play about you, your majesty. I am down so fucking bad for you its not even funny. I want to take you out and, fingers crossed if you’d be down, I wanna make you my old lady. I don’t want anything casual about you. So what do you say, ma? Let’s give this a shot. Wanna give me the time of day and let me take you out?”

He didn’t spout any poetry or sonnets. He didn’t plead you for a grand gesture he needed to do. He just stood there, boots firmly planted. He spoke, his voice warm and raspy, and he told you plain as day. Because he knew you already believed it. The only question now was did you still want to look for love and romance.

His opinion may be completely biased but he was rooting for you right now. At first he didn’t think much of your ‘boldness.’ Your definition of bad and rulebreaking was pretty dorky in his book. But he’s since realized he was being unfair.

All those things were illegal and you still took the chance. You spoke up, maybe not for the ground at the time, but to make things better. Gave up certainty, stuck your neck out and took a chance.

Back against the ledge, literally, you saw a shot in the dark. A slim sliver of a pinhole. A hypothetical really. Between a rock and a hard place, between death and the unknown with death still a most likely outcome. Between oblivion and the Abyss. You jumped.

That was metal as fuck. Sometimes you did it with confidence, sometimes shivering and afraid but you took your shot, every time. Don’t let them take that from you. 

Enjin, just like he did with everyone he helped, took a step back, gave you space and let you breathe. Because that’s what he did. He reminded people they can do anything. He planted his boots firmly, told you the truth and then he let you defeat what was left of the Sphere still inside you. 

Your heart was pounding. Phantom sensations of wind whipping against you. Memories of falling flashed through your head. His voice cut through all the noise and brought you back. Grounded you.

“I can promise that it’ll be a bitching–what did you call it… It’ll be a bitching cotillion.”

You breathed. Okay, now think.

You began reciting facts and logic. This was a trauma response. The fear that what happened before would happen again. The phantom sensations, the blood pumping in your ears, etc. 

Two options laid before you. Their outcomes were a simple calculation. The odds were one to infinity.

One: Enjin betrayed you one day and could leave you for dead.

Another shock, another heartbreak. Everyone everywhere would always be a risk. You would never be immune to betrayal, that's why it’s a betrayal. No one sees it coming. It will always be shocking.

You survived this far therefore the evidence dictates beyond a shadow of a doubt, while it would really fucking suck, you could handle it. You are stronger than you have given yourself credit for.

Resilience is not to be bulletproof, but the capacity to withstand and recover. Nobody wants needing to be resilient, you just have to try when it's called for. That’s all anyone can do. Every connection will always technically be a leap of faith.

Infinity: Anything. Everything.

The endless possibilities of the cosmos were and always shall be across the ravine known as fear.

You got to know Enjin plus you discovered he was wonderful. That ended up equaling for you that Enjin was clearly someone absolutely worth falling for.

Which left now a simple choice: 

Was he someone you would leap for?

“... What’s that?” You nodded to the dog eared book he was holding. His hand blocked out the whole cover.

“Oh, it’s a dictionary.” Enjin held up and gestured with his copy.

“Why do you keep a dictionary with you?”

“Cause you use a lotta fancy words that I’ve never even fuckin’ heard of, missy.” He flipped through the pages quickly with his thumb like he did when he shuffled cards during poker. “And I like talking to you.”

Your heart skipped. You allowed yourself to indulge and you hoped. You hoped that–what if, maybe, this could might possibly, oh fuck please let it be, different this time.

The choice: Was he someone worth leaping for? Yes, and you’ve realized, you are too.

Some people cannot afford the risk of infinity. And that’s okay. Some people do not want or are not interested in the infinity. And that’s okay. Neither infinity nor one was wrong.

Against the odds you’ve searched all this time for the things you wanted to have one day. You were not someone that has elected the infinity too unsafe to pursue. You definitely were not the latter, not in this story at least. Maybe in another life, another world. You were not someone uninterested in the infinity here though.

Despite the pursuit of the infinity almost killing you, you fought tooth and nail to find it. For whatever reason, this dumb bitch still wanted it. 

So, who were you to stand in your way?

“... I’d really like that.”

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Yes,” you swallowed, “I’d love to go to a concert with you and all those other things you said too.”

“Fuck yeah,” Which sounded suspiciously a lot like ‘I knew you could do it.’

A warm, buzziness had settled over you both like a blanket but you were still on a mission and needed to carry on. The two of you were a dynamic duo afterall; a package deal one could even say. One that built a reputation from an endless stream of successful missions and assignments completed side by side. Everything was going good for once. Until Enjin made the mistake of forgetting where he was. 

“How sweet.” A mocking voice sliced through that warmth. 

It ripped open the air itself. Whirling colors appeared that sucked all the warm tones from the scene opened behind you. Backlit, giving your edges a halo but casted a shadow across your face. Raiders. 

Enjin made his first mistake, he blinked. He hesitated, not out of fear or doubt or lack of courage. Just the completely human response of not understanding what was going on for a split second.

His name shredded its way out of your throat in the most haunting shriek, hand outstretched. You called out. You hadn’t looked at him with that same genuine terror in your eyes since he first met you. 

Ripped backwards into the swirling colors of the portal, you jolted Enjin awake and he launched forward. But he was a split second behind to catch your hand. You slipped right through his fingers. The portal sealed. Enjin fell to the ground where it once was.

A single moment of carelessness that cost everything.

He’s a man of practicality. It didn’t matter how many tasks you completed together, it didn’t matter if it was a mistake. It didn’t matter that it was only human. There was no point in guilt because it didn’t matter if he let it eat him alive. All that mattered was that he was caught off guard and you were taken now.

He didn’t beat himself up about it. Feeling bad doesn’t do anything. The universe really said time to test that resolve he had reached earlier. Nut up or shut up.

He stood up from the ground and started fixing it.

All the events that had passed seem to fall into place. Things he initially thought completely unrelated all came together. The countless ambushes from different unsavory groups trying to kidnap you. The doohickey that had been taken off his person, apparently, a prototype internal piece for a one way long range transmitter that could pierce anything, even the border. Zodyl’s interest in you.

The Cleaners and other factions were looking to reach the Sphere. You offered to help conduct research and incriminated yourself to share the same interest of returning. You, a bride, spoke of learning about the ground and wanting to change the world. He, your Fiancee, who preached of maintaining the status quo. Who wanted to utilize your intelligence and research for its continuation. Who feared your voice and your mind enough to kill you.

Above all, you were not technically thrown out. You leaped. There was nothing to show for those men to prove they finished the job. Meaning, unfortunately, the chicken-fucking Asshole looked at the most brilliant woman ever and saw a loose thread, a liability. Last but not least, unfortunately, he was a fucking nerd like you that dotted all the I’s and crossed all the T’s. 

Fuu, while not told about this elaborate scheme, knew Zodyl and how he worked. He took one look at all the pieces and provided the clarity they had all missed. There were clearly Sphereites that went back and forth.

It wasn’t exactly beyond him to use the Sphereites' own against them as their downfall. Fuu mentioned Zodyl probably loving how poetic it would be, actually. They sent messages telling them you were alive, probably wanting rescue or to return home. You were bait for someone that either loved you enough or wanted you dead enough to answer.

“The turtle stretches its neck outside of the shell and…” Fuu trailed off, letting the insinuation hang in the air. “But I’m not sure when or where the meet up would take place.”

 “I can venture a guess.” Rudo spoke up. All eyes on him now. “If I know anything about the rich on the Sphere and Zodyl, what’s the absolute worst, most heartless choice? Her Fiancee went to all this trouble to hide and not wanting to be seen or discovered. There’s a perfect distraction coming up now.” 

Semiu pinched the bridge of her nose. “The fucking Trash Talk Tour. Now I’m just pissed I didn’t see this shit coming along my damn self. Alright people, let’s go. Time to get to work.”

Enjin’s fingers traced your color coded flyer on the counter.

“Enjin, a word…”

The days passed and it felt like an eternity but the evening was finally here. The plan they elected was to approach posed as fans attending any of the concerts and to not tip off the venue until a bit later into the evening. The panic or cancellation would no doubt scare off the Tool with the stiff upper lip and who knows when he would resurface again.

Enjin adjusted his tie, nodded back to his team before they split into the crowd and everything fell in motion. Then everything quickly went to hell in a hand basket.

The venue was in chaos. Attendees, employees, volunteers and performers alike running everywhere in a mass panic. Crowds illuminated with bursts of colors by the fireworks overhead. Team Akuta was painted in a kaleidoscope of colors across various levels of the mayhem.

Zanka pushed against the flow of the escaping techies in some rafters. The last few finally moved past him. His hand shot out and snatched a wandering wrist the same moment the catwalk was submerged in blue.

“Damn, nothing gets past you it seems,” A blonde employee that didn’t look frightened enough amongst her panicked compatriots purred. Zanka recognized her, the buxom bar worker and her previously established skill for sticky fingers.

With one of his hands occupied, his only response was swifter than the eye could blink. A cry of pain rose beside them. With his other hand he snapped the Lovely Assistaff and stunned her colleague, slinking in shadows beside them.

“Not a damn thing.”

The equipment behind the deconstructable main stage was dyed in a myriad of verdant hues. Riyo, surrounded on all sides by the very same human traffickers you had fooled once before, smiled. 

Not paying a single one of them any mind or their threats of her being outnumbered. Riyo was too busy looking under some cabling and amps tucked away to the side, amused.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah whatever guy,” she rotated the volume knob on a small side speaker hooked up for employees. The same song that played on the radio that day reprised itself on the speaker now. “Talk about irony, amirite?”

The winding open air stairwell was aglow in crimson. Hanging cables and scaffolding added a tangled canopy to the landscape. Enjin sprinted up the spiral stairs, desperate to reach the highest point when he caught a glimpse of you. Your captor, the last of that cadre of organ movers, whipped around once he recognized he couldn’t outrun who was at his heels.

“Don’t move!” He held you at knife point, the cool metal chilled your skin. Shivers ran down your spine and mirrored the dried tearstreaks that ran down your cheeks.

“No need for anything drastic,” Enjin’s smooth, smarmy voice oozed out of his smile.

“Aht-aht! Hands up!”

Enjin halted mid-step. He lifted up his hands, Umbreaker hooked onto his wrist and dangled there. There was that beautiful, familiar, angry look on your face.

“We’re going to keep going up these stairs and you are going to stay right there, got it pal?”

“Got it, I won’t go another step higher.” He watched your glare shift from the man threatening your life to Enjin. Already tired of whatever game he was starting to play.

The last of the Organ Movers tried moving up the steps without turning his back but was stopped when Enjin spoke again.

“What about my friend though?”

“She’s obviously coming with me, you dumb fuck.”

“So no instructions, got it. I wasn’t talking about her.” Enjin let out a loud whistle. “All yours, Kid!”

There were thunderous crashing noises coming from what felt like all around. Rudo erupted from below through the open center of the spiral stairway wielding, who the fuck actually knows, honestly! Almost as if in slow motion the scum was face to face with the reigning crown prince of Doodads and Thingamabobs. A loud scream escaped your captor’s mouth before Rudo pushed him over the railing and they were both airborne.

“Enjin!” That same haunting shriek from days before echoed itself and a cold sweat broke out down the back of Enjin’s neck. Enjin reached for you and this time he didn’t hesitate.

Listed over the side at a life flashing angle, Enjin’s arm caught you around the waist. He brought you securely back to the center of the steps but he couldn’t enjoy the sight for long before Rudo’s previous crashing compromised the integrity of your current location.

“Look out!” You yanked Enjin by the tie and dragged his colossal ass several levels lower. “Do I have to do everything around here?”

Once on a secured landing, in the span of a skipped heartbeat the world was gilded. You both immediately began examining one another and looked for injuries.

Warm and flushed against his hands, here you were. No cuts or wounds, no bruises, no lumps and no bumps. There didn’t seem to be anything broken, swelling or sore. 

You continued fretting as he cupped your cheek, not paying attention. They had you dressed like an attendee and out of all the costumes they could have chosen, they had you draped in satiny white. He wiped away the streaks with his thumb, the only disturbances in your always pristine make up. He fiddled and admired your earrings with his index finger.

“Hey, angel…”

Finally satisfied that he wasn’t injured, you stood still and breathed. Your chest heaved. You pouted. 

“Y-you– you… Y-yoou y-o-ou,” Fists pelted his chest. You shoved him as you stuttered. The rainfall of smacks, shoves and fists were uneven, punctuating the inbetweens of your repeatings. “You… you… You…”

Really? Almost instantly his own temper ignited to mirror you, a perfect match. “You have got to be kidding me, your high-and-mighty-ness! What? What?”

“You! You! You!”

“Me, me, me, me! What?” He wrestled with your wrists but didn’t completely restrain you. Your pummeling weakened now but still a continuous onslaught so you started kicking. You were infuriating, atta girl! “What? What’s a matter? Run out of buzzwords finally, Miss Ma’am!”

“...You! …Yo-u!” A hiccup. Small but clear, you sniffled. Tears welled your eyes. Whatever was caught in your throat, was brimming your entire soul. Punches weakened and weakened, until your hands clung to his shirt, wrists still encased in his own hands. Eventually you slumped against him. Clutched him, scared he might disappear.

Enjin’s tone lost its bite, his eyes softened. He bowed his head and whispered against the top of your crown. “... What?”

“... you… you came?” A sob, shoulders trembled beneath him.

Enjin rubbed your wrists. He slid one of his hands up. He covered and pressed a clinging fist to his chest. With his other palm, he snaked his arm around you and cradled the back of your head.

“... you called.” 

Enjin let you shiver against him for a moment and he couldn’t help but lighten the tension once more before disaster struck.

“Your Highness,” he could feel a weak smile against his chest.

“Scoundrel,” you tilted your head up and graced him with your smile.

“Scoundrel? Scoundrel?” Enjin echoed in feigned offense. His voice low, he let himself taste the word on his tongue. He rasped it and let you feel it rumble in his chest. “I think I like the sound of that.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his teasing. “Of course you would.”

“I think you like the sound of it too.” He brought your fist up and kissed the back of your hand. “Otherwise you wouldn’t say it so much. I think you like scoundrels, Your Highness.”

“Why would I–” You were cut off by those fucking dimples.

“I think you do. I think you like all kinds of–what were some of those other things? I think you just might be into ruffians and mooncalves, recidivists and vulgarians.” Alluring, mischievous golden eyes that melted seamlessly with the world all around you. He crooned, low and husky despite all the wildness and danger that still surrounded you.

“But I think you like scoundrels most of all, Your Highness. I don’t believe there were nearly enough of them in your life.”

“I happen to like good and respectable men, thank you.”

“Scoundrels can be pretty decent and respectable.” He tilted closer, the air between you quickly shrinking.

“You’re not respectable,” You breathed against his mouth. Completely overlooking the part where you failed to deny that you thought him a good man but Enjin didn’t.

“You’re right about that, mama…” The words danced out of his mouth like his cigarette smoke. He sealed the path to any more conversation, letting you and your words sink into his embrace.

You hummed. Enjin left no room for air, let alone arguments. Ever the scholar, you took note of your new self-discoveries. First, you liked the color gold very much actually. Second, you liked good men, not gentlemen. Third and final, good men knew when not to be gentle.

He cleared the path to speak and parted from you. He smirked, watching you follow his smile like you were lassoed to it. “Adventure’s not over yet. We gotta go, Your Highness.”

Sense returned and so did your pout. “I knew that, you're the one who was being such a tease, you scoundrel.”

A beat passed and he took off down the stairs, helping you down them with your hand in his. 

“Awe, that was so sweet.” A voice intruded and the world twisted upside down. Your laugh morphed into a shriek, the golden air swirled with blue from a foreign source. 

A churning portal opened below your feet just as you had stepped and swallowed your dive. Enjin’s grip ironclad, he did not hesitate and pitched forward to follow. You emerged, spat out the other end, the wind howled all around. Exposed to the elements and the light of the fireworks above.

Enjin, not initially invited for this little trip, had a rougher landing and his head spun. When everything finally became rightside-up again for his center of gravity he leapt to his feet and scanned his surroundings.

The world burst into a kaleidoscope of colors. His suit coat whipped around him from the unobstructed wind. Open air, open sky, open stretches between the precarious beams that were the only walkways and footholds, all the way up here at the top of the infrastructure. Where the summits of all the stages' arching frames spiderwebbed together.

At that same moment several of his allies and friends had made it up here. Follo, Bro and Tomme entered the scene. Each from a differing cardinal direction. 

Mammoth chunks of debris launched by. The teleporting raider girl stood beside Zodyl, lying in wait for his command. Zodyl stood face to face with what he hunted, eyes void of expression. He calmly watched the prey take the bait.

At the top of this metal canopy was a stand off. Enjin looked into the eyes of a soulless, ungrateful Prick. At the top of the grounder world stood a Sphereite man. His method of arrival, unknown and coveted by all down here in the Abyss.

“Now, now, haven’t you caused enough of a fiasco.” A Man in Finery, the slimiest person Enjin has ever seen, scolded and tutted at you. It was almost like the trash storm spilling from the passing Sphere in the distance was at his beck and call. 

You had been grappled in Zodyl’s arms, resisted and kicked the whole way, before he had finally released you halfway up the gangway. Left you stuck like a tightrope walker over open air between himself and your Fiancee. 

Forced to spend all your attention and energy on fighting against the wind that threatened to send you plummeting. You were vulnerable to any advances. The Sphereite Man leaned forward from his secured landing and when your arms spun and waved to regain the balance that teetered he snatched you by the arm.

“Enjin!”

“Hush! That’s enough now!” All your screaming was quieted once again by the chill of cool metal that pressed against you. Before was a blade, now a pistol hovered over your shoulder. 

The world roiled in chaos but all who stood up here froze in anticipation. Enemies lied in wait for a moment to strike. Allies in fear of causing the trigger to be pulled.

“I thank you for her safe return. Now, here’s what will transpire. All of you will return down below where you belong, first. Once done we can make our quiet exit.” He snarled the word quiet against your temple. “Am I understood?”

“Of course,” There was a smile on Zodyl’s face as he beckoned his raider. “We will be right out of your hair.”

They stepped through the portal and vanished. Everyone but your Fiancee knew damn well he wasn’t truly gone and that he would strike. 

“While unreasonable to expect all of you to have sense I do recommend following in the footsteps of your friend there.”

All the members of his team had their hands raised. Enjin spoke and opened the negotiations. Hearts pounded wildly in chests and adrenaline coursed through everyone's veins.

“Why don’t we talk about this? You alright, mama?” Enjin checked in on you, mid-hostage situation, unabashedly.

“Fresh, I see. A bit intimate don’t you think, my dear?” Your Fiancee hissed in your ear.

“What does it matter to you? I was gone!” Rage seethed to your surface from deep below.

“You know I was not always so irascible of a man until you.” Your Fiancee growled and then snapped his head to Enjin again. “It is only predictable that she would garner degenerates for associates. However, to sully yourself with so roguish a rake is repugnant. Have you truly no shame for your endless debauchery?”

“Only she’s allowed to call me fancy mean names.” Enjin spoke first to your Betrothed and then shifted to address you next. “It's weird when your Cuck tries to join in our dirty talk.”

Gun to your head, a trash storm roiled all around and open air beneath, Enjin found a way to break any sense of worry and made you laugh. Your Fiancee spluttered and blushed. He snarled, frustrated, at your giggling at his expense.

“My word! You see where your concupiscence–”

“Con-what now? What the fuck does that mean?” Follo didn’t even let him finish the rest of his pretentious sentence.

“Ugh!” Your Fiancee ever the professor stopped to educate but the thing was, he was never a good teacher. Too absorbed with his own preening. “It means… how else to say it? Licentiousness.”

You could not help but roll your eyes to the back of your head. How else to say it? Really? He had to be kidding. There were so many other ways to say it! What a tool. Follo, Bro and Tomme rotated in their bullying.

“Do you mean like licorice? That sounds nice right about now actually!”

“No, it's not candy. Concupiscence as in lasciviousness, for example.”

“He’s gotta be fucking with us at this point!”

“That’s what I’m saying! He’s just making things up now so he can yank our chain.”

“Ugh, how else can I explain it! Stop laughing! Concupiscence like nymphomania or–or salaciousness!”

Your shoulders began trembling only now it was not in fear. You tried your absolute hardest and were failing to contain your laughter. You couldn’t help it, it was all too funny. Both the man holding you at gunpoint along with the absurdity and sheer cheekiness of the worst danger you had ever been in.

“Dude, this is actually starting to get sad.”

“You almost married this guy?”

“Oh damn, is it some kinky shit? Why is he blushing about it?”

After another moment of laughing at his expense you finally pulled yourself somewhat together again. “Horniness! Promiscuity! Lust! He’s saying this whole mess is my fault because I'm a slut!”

“Ohhhh! Why didn’t he just say that? Rude, by the way!”

“You see it's not as cool when he does it.”

“Yeah, when you do it, you sound so elegant and well spoken.”

“When he does it, he sounds like such a try-hard.”

“Excuse me! What is that supposed to mean?”

The cherry on top was the reversal of now your Fiancee needing a translation. You laughed in his face. “They’re critiquing your vernacular as sesquipedalian and you as verbose for it.”

“Excuse me!”

“Now you see, that’s more like it!”

“That’s what I'm talking about! Now what did you say? What does that mean?”

“I told him, ‘you wordy, you the thesaurus.’”

Another fit of cackles.

He had to keep himself from chuckling. Enjin knew somewhere out here in the night, Zanka was so damn proud of you.

Enjin raised a hand to his collar, waiting. Follo, Bro and Tomme took the center stage of this stand off, taking all attention off of him. Enjin practically faded from sight, but leonine eyes stood watch, prowling from the shadows.

“Enjin,” the voice of his friend radioed in. “The venue is clear. Everyone is evacuated.”

“Thanks, Gris.”

“Enjin,” one of his team piped in, “we’re here.”

“Alright, team, it's show time.” He lowered his hand and re-entered the stage. “Hey, Fuck-Face!”

“Well, that was vulgar.” Your Fiancee whipped around. Enjin and you tagteamed him with the same joke.

“Actually, he’s a leo.”

“Actually, I’m a leo.”

Frustrated and at his wit's end your Cuck lifted the firearm and aimed at Enjin. “I have had enough of this impudence! What is it?”

“Made you look,” You and Enjin purred in unison.

Everything happened all at once. Glowing light permeated off of you but it wasn’t you exactly. Your vital instrument activated. Coming to life, your earrings grew and snaked around the arm wielding the gun, you wrenched it skyward. You definitely broke his elbow.

Children taught you, just as much as you taught them.

Rudo made it his personal mission to help you awaken it. It wasn’t much as of yet. Still only training to master it, but you could use it. It took a lot of energy and almost all your focus for even this but with practise and training stamina would come along the way. Besides right now, you just needed a moment.

The shot went wide and missed hitting anyone. Your Fiancee cried out in pain. Now vulnerable and left wide open, churning color returned beside you and Zodyl’s hand reached out.

Fingers outstretched, desperate to grab and zip away with the Sphereite that knew how to return to the heavens. Those grasping hands were left empty, Rudo launched from below and bit. Zanka and Riyo flew in to catch and keep him from being dragged through when Zodyl instinctively jerked his hand back.

There was a split second when Enjin was face to face with your pansy ass, piece of shit, over his dead body would he let him be, Almost-Husband. Enjin opened Umbreaker, the shing of the blades sung high notes into the air. 

“Enjin, a word…”

“Yeah, boss? Whatcha need” Enjin lingered behind in the office at Corvus’ request.

“While the focus of this mission is a rescue for us, it will not be for the Raiders. You cannot allow them to get their hands on her Betrothed nor can you allow him to escape.”

“Are you giving me the go ahead for…” Enjin trailed off with a growing grin.

“I need you to kill him. While we are all hunting for a way up to the Sphere, we cannot let Zodyl and his faction have him. Zodyl has shown himself to be crafty and resourceful. As such, with an entire music festival and one of our own on the line, I have no doubt he will have plenty of ammunition and endless opportunities to catch a moment of weakness. We can dodge Zodyl that night a thousand times, but his plans of capture need only succeed once to spirit him away.”

“Understood, bossman.” Enjin nodded.

“You have my approval and my expressed instruction to kill this man.” It was then Enjin decided he would make it a point to never remember the Chicken-Fucker’s name. Neither one of you would need to use it again.

A split second was all it took. Enjin flew forward the same instant your Spiteful Ex shoved you over the edge. You fell over first. Blood splattered across Umbreaker and then his head fell over second.

“Enjin!” Rudo screamed.

“I got it!” Enjin dove after you. “Keep to your tasks!”

You free-fell through the air. A hauntingly familiar sensation in the worst way possible.

This time, however, there were no still perfectly good pillows or food scraps to cushion the landing. Below you now was only the cold, hard concrete of the amphitheatre. 

The first time you fell from the sky, you survived through pure, dumb luck. Your life had the odds that were infinity to one. The second time you fell through the sky, the odds were–

Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! 

However, that was a miscalculation.

Enjin was never going to let you live this down. He racked his brain for something cool to say and came up blank. He was so pissed he couldn’t think of anything cause this was priceless!

Enjin dove through the air. A familiar and almost second nature sensation for him. He bobbed and weaved expertly through the debris. 

Focus.

The acceleration of gravity caused any object’s downward velocity to increase by 9.81 magnitude per time interval which meant he and you would accelerate at exactly the same rate. You, unfortunately, had a headstart on him therefore you would hit the ground before he could reach you. 

The force of gravity is stronger on heavier objects than lighter ones. Enjin’s colossal ass, as you so graciously put it, was heavier. He would fall faster if you two had been in a vacuum but thanks to your now dead Chicken-Cucking Ex and the trash storm he brought along with him you were not in a vacuum.

Okay, so he couldn’t use that! Seriously, fuck that guy. He wished he could kill him twice. Enjin was taller than you. Mass has no effect on acceleration though, so him being taller wouldn’t do much in this kind of scenario. 

Oh!

However, there was this fun little thing called air resistance. The force that worked against an object’s motion as it moved through the air. By changing the shape of an object as it fell through the air you could differ how the air resistance affected it. Objects with wider surface areas had more drag and he was… taller. Fuck!

You swandived because of fucking course you did, princess. So the next thing he could have possibly tried out was to–oh fuck, you swandived! He could work with that! Enjin tilted.

If he changed his angle of attack, the angle that was between the reference line on a body (Him) , the vector (Straight downward fall because gravity) and the fluid (The open fucking sky) that he moved through, he could control his body’s relation to the oncoming flow.

In other words, using angles he could ‘change’ the shape of his mass to have less surface area for the air resistance to work against. By alleviating the friction of resistance on himself alone while you didn’t, then the force of gravity would do her motherfucking thing and take care of the rest.

Enjin nosedived, his hand outstretched. He took off like a shot, the distance shrinking between you. He aimed Umbreaker directly downward as he did. Eyes aglow with anima, the blade at the tip of his instrument almost visibly pierced through the wind, helping himself cut through the air resistance beyond normal means.

In layman’s terms:

It didn’t matter that you fell first. Because Enjin fell harder.

And that’s on aerodynamics, bitches!

“Hey, Your Highness!”

The most obnoxious, aggravating, wonderful voice cut through all the noise, like it always did, from above you. It took all your strength but you turned to fall with your back to the earth so you could face skywards. Below was the sight of slate gray concrete. Above was a whole world of color. It felt like falling through stained glass.

Enjin was grinning as he shot after you, his hand outstretched. You reached back. When he was only a few feet away, the little tears you shed floated upwards, popping across his cheeks. He clasped your hand.

“You know, we really should stop meeting like this.”

You were smiling and laughed at his dumb joke. Lips wobbled, like a little kid trying so hard not to cry and failed. He pulled you in.

“I got you, ma.” His heavy, sturdy hand fanned your waist. His grip was secure. When Enjin held you, he had you. “See what I tell ya? Works every time.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Okay, fine. You’re right, your counter-ambush idea does make ambushes your bitch.”

“Damn straight and don’t you forget it.”

He was never going to let you live this down. Zero was a miscalculation because you forgot in all your panic, which was fair, you were not alone this time. All your friends in the Cleaners and Enjin were now a variable in your life. 

He opened Umbreaker, the sudden swell and shift was jarring but now the descent was no longer a free-fall. Hand around your waist he flew you out of harm to the ground.

The trash storm was almost upon you. The second your feet touched the ground you and Enjin ran to whatever vehicle was closest. Everyone had split into different directions, escaping through whichever route was possible for them. Some in groups, some solo but all of them checked in via collars.

Enjin drove the absolute worst he had ever driven. He also did make it to a cavern to safely wait out the storm so all things considered he was doing pretty well. It had started well, went quickly sideways but he had steered it back–in a right answer with the wrong formula sort of way but you got there in the end.

You burst into a fit of hysterical giggles. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, a face splitting grin to match. Anytime you opened your mouth to say anything, giggling sobs bubbled up to the surface instead. The sort of near-death hysteria of coming out the other side from staring down the barrel of a gun.

He took off his seatbelt and unclicked yours. Leaning over the center console he held your face in his hands.

“Talk to me, mama.”

There was the nail. Your whole life when you were upset, angry, frustrated, heart broken, hurt, anything that caused a scene, you heard the words, ‘don’t make such a fuss,’ or ‘keep your voice down.’ Scared you were sentenced to an eternity of ‘this is a bit much,’ and ‘people are looking,’ and ‘don’t start.’

You openly started sobbing into his hands. Through the shakes you felt a tender kiss placed on the top of your head. With his mouth still pressed against your crown, he mumbled and wrapped his arms around you.

“Come here,” he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him. Strong arms lifted you over the center console and sat you in his lap. Enjin held you tight and let you cry.

You trembled in his arms for what felt like an age and a half. He didn’t release you, he didn’t say anything. The world faded away. The trash storm softened to a distant hum. The edges of reality became the walls of that car. Like you were the only people left. After some immeasurable time, all the overwhelming emotions were released, the shaking subsided and you regained your voice.

At last with no panic or imminent danger or threats, you both now possessed the space to breathe uninterrupted that night. You raised your face and caught eyes with one another. There was silence. Nothing said, everything said. No insanity or humor to distract. He looked at you with such open, unfiltered eyes you were convinced this is what it must feel like to swim in candlelight.

The truth of your feelings simmered between you. Almost dying demonstrated and spotlighted what you both already knew together. A voiceless conversation, a silent understanding of the souls. You looked at each other and agreed. Life was too damn short.

The air shifted, charged, the same charge before a pounce. Enjin smiled, shattering that silence first. Motion returned to you both. The serious things that needed to be understood were understood. Humor returned and now you could just be.

Enjin brought you in and kissed you like you were the only air left in this world. You might have melted. A rugged hand slid up and cradled the back of your head, pressing you into him. Like any amount of space keeping you from him was absurd, offensive, unacceptable. He swallowed any questions, any doubts left between you. He drew your breath from you along with uncertainties or fears.

He almost lost you. He was sorry. Enjin was not wasting any more time. He began his work making it right for keeping you waiting for so long. 

You hummed into him and he tilted his head in the opposite direction, like shifting into a different gear. Enjin kissed you stupid. Purged you of any remnant unrequited longings. Bled you clean of any pining. The kiss was anything but chaste. Intimate, churning, thorough. He made you damn near lose your mind when he started sucking on your tongue. You sighed into him and he deepened his work.

The pressure between you two caused him to dip you but due to the cramped space instead pinned you between him and the interior of the car door. The cool glass of the window somewhat grounded you. Reminded you this was real. Not the books you read or the fantasies you had alone. You clung, scared this would slip away. You were ravenous.

He caressed and stroked your waist, your body heat warming his side. Pliant, doughy love handles rested beneath his palm and Enjin clamped with an iron grip and helped himself to a generous fistful. He was going to devour you.

He smiled against you and you realized he was fucking evil. Enjin with one more, slow sensual work of his mouth tried to pull away, tried to say something. When he managed to unlatch, you whimpered after him. Like a puppy that thought he disappeared when he left the room, the kind that made him want to apologize for tormenting you like that.

You sat up and resealed your mouth to his, causing him to slide back against the driver’s seat. 

‘Damn, I’m sorry.’ He went right back to kissing you. How selfish of him.

When he really could not stand having this coat, or clothes for that matter, on any further he showed some momentary tough love. You’ll be happier, he promised.

He sat up. His hand slid from the back of your head and parked itself along your jaw and the underside of your chin, your head cradled in his elbow. He took hold of you, practically had to tear you off. He held you there whining. 'Please come back, please.'

Enjin chuckled and it sounded like whiskey. He shushed your cries. You finally opened your eyes to pout but then got hypnotized by the string of saliva keeping you connected. You licked your bottom lip, trying to taste it. Fuck.

And because Enjin was a scoundrel he leaned in just to be a tease. He watched you gulp at the air trying to reach him, and he spoke just out of reach. You could feel his breath against your skin. “Get in the back.”

You didn’t understand at first. “Huh?”

His hand nursing the underside of your jaw squeezed. Forced you to listen. “Go to the back seat, woman.”

All at once everything came back to focus. Enjin watched your pupils dilate, registering what he said. 

It was real. It was all real. Excitement, passion, good-good kissing, taut hands. He stopped squeezing and his fingers caressed, dancing across the skin. You smiled and launched yourself over the center console.

Enjin ripped off his coat, kicked off his dress shoes and smacked your ass as it disappeared between the seats. He could get so used to that squeal. He twisted around and because he wasn’t a fucking animal, he threw his giant coat back before lumbering after you. 

You barely gave his lofty headed ass any space, kissing him as soon as his head reappeared in the back between the front seats. For fuck’s sake, girl.

“There’s–kiss–not enou–smooch-room, I nee–” He groaned. Enjin placed a firm hand around your throat and ripped you off his face. With the sternest whisper, “Sit. Back. I need to get back there first, lay my coat down so we don’t ruin this car and I can finally, finally, finally fuck you.”

There’s something about the way he said fuck that slipped into your wiring. 'Oh so he ran a strict program around here?'

“Okay.” You slid as far back into your seat in the corner as you could, took your shoes off as you waited.

Enjin finished clambering back there, laid out his coat and patted your thigh when he needed you to lift yourself. It covered the entire length of the backseat and hung off draping the floor. When he sat down in the center, he started loosening his tie. “C’mere baby,”

There was something about the words he used that scratched an itch and made your brain burr. Woman… I can fuck you… Baby… Old Lady…

It was so familiar. The Sphere liked familiarity but it was never this kind.  The Sphere was familiar. Routine, expected, predictable, orderly, formal. Enjin felt familiar. Informal, intimate, close, personal. Yours, his, affectionate.

Nothing prim, or polite. Nothing ornamental or fashionable to show off over smalltalk. Nothing ceremonious or mannerly. It was raw, private, genuine. It felt warm, naked, real. He spoke to you like you were his friend, his lover, and not like a salesman or a business partner.

You slid over and straddled him. Nothing was fast enough. Stark hands palmed and kneaded your hips, your sides and he groaned into your mouth. Your palms, rubbing his chest, felt the rumble below. Like thunder announcing a storm.

You took off his tie and started kissing his neck at the same time he started sliding the straps down on your dress.

“You clean up really well,” The suit was criminal, actually. Lethal even, you could have died. Then what would he have done?

“I was hoping you would say something. I wanted to show off for you.”

“Awe, you wanted to get all pretty for me?”

“Shut up,” He gave you a sudden, hefty warning spank. You yelped and started undoing his buttons faster.

“I like it, I really like it,” you pushed his waistcoat back. Enjin helped you with his dress shirt.

“Buuuut?”

“Why do you have so many layers on?”

Finally you reached your goal. He shrugged off his waistcoat and dress shirt, leaving him in a plain black undershirt. Rugged tattoo sleeves blended with his black t-shirt. You admired him. Traced the swirls of his tattoos. “There we go that feels more like you.”

“Alright, babygirl, I’m here.” He purred darkly, returning his hands to your waist and buried his face into your cleavage.

“I like when you call me that,” You sighed and it sharpened into a gasp. He sank his teeth into you.

“I’ve called you a lot of things tonight, which one?”

“All of them,” You mused dreamily into his ear.

He let out a pained laugh. How he managed to maneuver such a delicate little back zipper and your bra clasps so deftly with such massive paws you had no idea. That was a lie. Yes, you did. He’s a whore. 

He pinched down hard on your nipple, using the rough callous of his fingers to give you a nice burn. He sucked up the other in a violent, loud, pornagraphic slurp to coax her out.

“C’mon girls, I know you aint shy.” He spoke by keeping the second one between his teeth.

Enjin was right too. Almost like they were done playing coy and bashful, the teasing little things sprouted into his touch, like little gems surfacing from below the earth. “Welcome to the party, ladies. Glad you could make it.”

He gave them both a parting flick. You laughed and grinded down on him.

“Aha, about that actually.” He gripped your hips. He straightened against the seat and pulled you flush to his chest with him. “We need to talk about that, doll.”

“Hm?” You tried to undo his belt but he confiscated both of your hands with only one of his. Oh that was criminal.

“Don’t worry, mama, we are definitely going to get to that.” He pulled your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties and earrings. “For your first time, you’re going to get the Enjin Special.”

“But I’m not a vir–” You were struck silent. He held your face in his hand, so you could understand the sheer scope of them for yourself. They were bigger than your face.

“Your first time cumming is gonna be right in the palm of my hand.” He palmed your pussy. His hand covered more than your panties did. Just resting in his palm made you purr, seeing the promise of something twice the length of your cunt against it. He could feel the heartbeat of your core on him.

You ground down experimentally, soft, clothed pussy lips rubbed against hard callous. You swooned. Long, thick fingers. Tattooed rings marking depths. Solid, sturdy knuckles. Rough, coarse skin.

“You ready for me to break you in, ma?”

On the Sphere, everything was new, stiff, uncomfortable. It wasn’t until you hit the ground that you got to experience shoes that didn’t pinch, homey clothes, belts that were supple. Creased paperbacks that didn’t scream when you opened them, belongings that remembered you. It was this moment when you’re heart trilled and you realize how truly touch starved you were.

Like porcelain that stared longingly outside of the glass cabinet, envious of the plastic on the dinner table.

Your eyes followed up his arms. Dark tattoos stood in contrast against your skin. Cotton tshirt, not silk or chiffon or anything delicate. His Adam's apple bobbed. And that unfairly handsome, wicked, cocky, Apollonian face. You never stood a chance. You released a shaky sigh.

“Oh god, please.” You whined into the hand that cradled your face, dipping your mouth to kiss the curve created between his thumb and forefinger.

He didn’t even have anything smart to say. Time to nut up or shut up. “I got you,”

He slid the insignificant scrap of fabric to the side, a pathetic barrier, and carded through your folds. He handled you expertly, like the decks he shuffled at poker and just like poker, he was a shameless cheat. Generous fingers threaded along your dewy core, blunt fingertips tapped and teased your entrance. He coated his finger in your sap before sliding in the first digit. You sang in his palm.

“There we go, hun. Open up for me.” He encouraged as he worked his finger up and up, deeper and deeper until he reached his first tattooed ring. “That’s a good girl.”

He leaned in and swallowed your cute little pout into a kiss. You fussed when he nipped. Enjin grinned and pulled back, keeping your bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged and watched you follow.

He bathed in and scraped your gooey heat, appreciated the feel of soft tender flesh caressing his own rough and harshened skin. He was almost to his base knuckle now.

“Ya gotta ease your way in and…” He dug down to his knuckle. “Voila!”

He made sure to give a few testing pumps and once he got a good slide going he ground the bottom of his palm against your clit. You mewled.

“Its a fucking crime,” he began introducing the next finger, “this poor little lady not been stretched out good enough, gorgeous?”

You clutched at his wrists pathetically. A weak attempt of keeping his hands on you. 

“Heh,” He smirked, re-angled his wrist and… Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!

“There you go!”

Seriously, though, if he didn’t watch himself right now it would piss him off. This gorgeous, pillowy, chubby pussy was top shelf and they weren’t even loving her right? He scissored his fingers inside you, stretching you for the next one. You mewled in his other palm.

“Now that I think about it, warm these up for me too, beautiful.” He tapped your lips with two of his fingers.

You smiled like he just gave you a gift and kissed the fingers against your lips before opening. You slid your mouth onto them, hollowing out your cheeks. You moaned and showed some extra love to the spots that had been toughened by life. You suckled around the callous. Swirled your tongue as you bobbed. You clung weakly to both wrists.

Enjin groaned watching you worship his hands. He could feel the vibrations of your moans in your mouth and the pulse of your heartbeat in your cunt. How you used his fingers to ease open your throat for him. Kissed his fingertips a few times when you bobbed out. 

Drool started dribbling out the corners of your lips. Loud, shameless suction sounds rang out from you, a byproduct from your eagerness. 

He saw desperate longing in those eyes. Enjin was right. Sick of propriety and sick of what was considered saucy from your old life. Underneath the lady that blushed when picturing cads ravishing her was a hungry, starving, aching beautiful woman.

One who’s breath hitched when he repositioned his hand to hold you, possessively, by the jaw with his remaining fingers. One that has never had a decent partner who made her cum during sex in her life. One that has never been railed like she deserved. 

He kissed along your jaw and with an evil grin started whispering filth in your ear. Biting on your earlobe. He playfully caught your earrings between his teeth and tugged. You were beyond owed everything you wanted. It wasn’t right. Enjin would fix that.

“You had to take care of this all by yourself, didn’t you?” He kept your pathetic little face in place and pressed his forehead against yours. Breathed the same air.

“Mhm,” You nodded and clutched at his wrist as tightly as you could.

“You couldn’t reach this deep yourself though, could you?” He mimicked your little whine, mocking you. Enjin smiled satisfied when he was down to his bottom rings on three fingers. Your pussy greedily slurped him in. You let out a beggarly moan before letting out a sound of protest. He had purposefully stuttered his rhythm momentarily in warning. “I asked a question.”

“No-oh!” 

“Look at me when you talk.”

Your heart stuttered. You had to force your eyes back open. He was unrelenting with his ministrations. You spoke with your mouth full. “Noh, I couwdn’t.”

“All this time waiting, mama?” He removed himself from your mouth against your wishes. Sat there for a second and admired the long string of saliva that followed his fingers before inevitably popping. Enjin wound his arm around you, scooping you to readjust your legs a bit. “I’ve got you now, daddy’s here.”

With a guided grip on your hip he instructed you to start rocking into his rhythm. “Ride my hand, gorgeous.”

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and rolled your hips with him. Once you built up and had a nice–it was so fucking nice–cadence going, Enjin gave you a hearty, congratulatory spank. It was sharp, loud and honestly startling. You gasped in both fear and excitement, completely caught off guard.

Needing to anchor yourself, you nestled into the crook of his neck. “P-please do-o that again.”

“What?” He tested you by landing another. Smack! “This?”

“Ye-es!”

“Have you never been spanked before, baby?”

You shook your head. You were sucking on his neck and Enjin’s eyes rolled back. You could feel a dark, ambered chuckle rise up his throat beneath your lips. 

He looked down, watched you bounce and enthusiastically ride his hand. The noises coming from your lonely cunt were obscene. Sap trickled down, pooled into his palm before spilling down his wrist. He groaned into your crown. 

He could feel your sweet nipples pressing against him through his shirt. They brushed north and south as you bounced. As he fucked you with his fingers. As you fucked yourself on his hand. 

“There you go, take as much as you need, pretty girl.” He brought down another loud, heavy spank that made you hiss and fisted the jiggles. The beginnings of his handprint started to bloom on your ass. 

“Look at you.” He slid his hand up and returned it to your neck. Forced your focus back to him. What he said made you melt, what you saw made you quiver.

“No more waiting, no more hiding. No more prim and proper. Your Highness just wants to get railed, right? Like the desperate, pretty little whore you are? I am going to wreck this sweet, starving, slutty pussy.”

Draconic eyes that swore draconian treatment. Your breath was pitchy, your core was tightening. You clung to him. You pleaded. “But most of all, I am going to make you cum again and again. But not just for tonight, for the rest of your days, Your Highness.”

You keened and the wire inside you snapped.

“Atta girl, don’t get lost, eyes on me.”

“En-jin!” You shivered, fisting the back of his shirt, desperate to find purchase.

Enjin knew you would lose your faculties, this was your first orgasm with a partner and would be overwhelmed. He kept you upright in his grip around your neck through his motions, riding out your waves with you. He unsheathed his hand from your depths and was met with an immediate whine for his troubles. Already mourning the loss of him inside.

“You’re clinging, baby. I aint going anywhere.” He bundled you up in his arms and put you where he wanted. Enjin laid you out between the seats, splayed across the center console. 

You let out a yip at the sudden movement. When you looked down, Enjin hooked your thighs over his shoulders. You were about to speak but the sight of his mighty paws fanned across your thighs, which were not the smallest, took any voice from you. Knelt between your legs he trailed his hands up and down, appreciating the soft give of your plush.

What was it about men’s hands? The way the knuckles were more prominent, their shape boxier, the blunt fingers or the veins along the backs.

Enjin had every reason to be proud. The way he embellished and decorated them enhanced all those little details. Black swirls at his wrists, decorative dots at his borders. Rings marking altering depths accentuated his long fingers. Painted nails that brought it all together and gave him a wild look. Stylized attention to features.

All those captivating details coming to a head this moment as they spread out across the expanse of your own sizable thighs, bringing back up the reality of their scope. He made you feel just right for him. He trailed sloppy, bitey kisses down your belly to your mound.

He caught the shy look on your face when you registered the implication through your hazed mind.

“You don’t ha–”

“You never been eaten out, gorgeous?”

“O-o-once, not for long. He said his jaw got tired.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, well on the ground we finish the plate and lick it clean.”

He didn’t even give you time to laugh. With two fingers, he spread you open and admired you. No corner of your succulent, weeping pussy was hidden from him. He watched her clench around nothing, in search of a phantom hand. Exposed and vulnerable. Swollen clit that twitched when he circled his fat, painted thumb. She already missed him.

He swirled his tongue in his mouth and pursed his lips. Enjin made sure to make eye contact with you. He made sure you watched him as he wickedly and fiendishly spat on your pussy.

When you gasped at the disrespectful gesture, he grinned. Enjin buried his mouth into your core. This poor, sloppy shivering pussy was weeping with so much love to give and eager to share. Enjin gave you loud, vulgar slurps that hollowed his cheeks and dug out his dimples. When he felt you, overwhelmed by all the newness, try to wiggle he locked his arms around your lower half and pinned you in place.

Wet muscle swiped inside and Enjin made out with your cunt. He could not get enough of you in his mouth. His face sunk into the softness of your lips and his nose pressed against the clit. He gulped her shivers, swallowed her tears and ravaged her halls.

His eyes were hazed while he ate you like a man possessed. Before he finally brought himself back to reality remembering what he set out to do. He came off you with a pop but only for a moment before diving back in, like a swimmer that breached the surface for air alone.

He sucked on the tender clit before kissing and tracing his tongue all along the archway framing your entrance. His arm still locked in place, he slid his hand to teasingly tap on your keystone above your entryway before returning his mouth to its rightful place. He slid two fingers into you and explored. He watched how your cunt sucked his fingers inside as he scouted out your fathoms. 

Squelch! Slurp! Squelch! Slurp! Squelch! Slurp! 

He groaned.

“Shit, this pussy is fall off the bone!” He began with a dry laugh.

“Straight tenderism!” You finished the joke in unison and giggled childishly together.

Enjin dragged thick fingers in and out of you. Savoring the feel of rich, gooey inner linings until he found the prize. A spongy little spot that made you sing, cutting off your laughter. Enjin smiled with a clit between his teeth.

“Bingo.” He returned his lips to resume slurping and chuckled into you. The vibrations traveling through your mound. Your fingers laced through his hair and he grinned like a villain.

He groaned into a laugh when you gave a particularly firm and sturdy pull on his hair. Your fingernails scratched and admired the soft buzz of his undercut. Traced and admired the scar on this side of his face. He was latched on so firmly, he hit depths so expertly, it was like he was a part of you now. You had sealed your thighs around his head on instinct to lock him in place. 

Despite you fisting and tugging on his hair, you pressed down to bury him deeper into you. You never wanted this to end. Until a strange feeling began.

Enjin could feel desperate little clutches trying to communicate. Weak, broken whimpers that couldn’t say anything.

“Enjin, something–ahh! Enjin, I think I'm going to–mmmph!”

“What baby, what are you gonna mmmm,” He hummed into you like when you taste something delicious. Warm, tender, protruding, sloppy clit supple in his mouth.

“Enjin, I’m sca-a-red, it feels like I'm going to–nggh! I think I need t-to pee.”

He pursed his lips harder and gave a hard pull with his tongue, suctioning up your clit before releasing with a pop and smirked. “It's okay, I promise. Don’t hide from it, don’t run, just let it happen.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Trust me,” He slid his free hand into his hair and returned it to rest on your belly only now with your fingers laced into his. He compressed his grip leading your joined hands into a fist, reassuring that it would be okay. The pressure and power of his grip made you swoon.

You were nervous but you trusted him. Once on the other side, you were glad you did. It all came to a summit. Rough, brutalized fingers filled and scraped and massaged you. Fat tips stroking a sensitive, pulpy spot just so and that devilish, sinful mouth that was relentless on your poor, abused clit.

“Enjin!”

Slurp! Squelch! Slurp! Squelch! Slurp! Squelch! 

Like the small fountain in your favorite corridor back at university, sweet nectar released onto him and you almost cried. Fear, panic, pleasure all fused into a beautiful concoction through you. Your shameless body sang so sweetly and primally for him; your cunt marked him like he was territory.

You tried to buck, uselessly, but Enjin’s arms had you firmly pinned. He buried his head and dug his fingers into you like he struck oil. You splashed onto him and sobbed.

“That’s my girl,” He rode out this new high before finally releasing you. With your essence still dribbling down his chin and down his wrist, he rested his head on your belly.

“Open up and help me clean.” He tapped your cheek with a soaked fingertip.

You listened. Enjin watched you suckle on his fingers, tears welling. He could see a trace of that curious inquisitive nature asking with your eyes. Nerd. A mocking, caring voice soothed you. He caressed your cheek with his thumb while you sucked on his fingers and licked down his palm.

“It's called squirting, Your Highness. And I’m so sorry you’ve never heard of it.” You cooed against his hand. Once cleaned to his liking, he playfully took a bite into your plush and shed you of your panties.

“C’mere, sit up.” He helped you back to a right angle. Face to face again he kissed you. “Clean the rest.”

You nodded. He held your face to his and let you lick his chin clean. Dutifully, you finished the plate and licked him clean. He sighed against your soft kitten licks and smiled when you smooched his dimples. He rewarded the adoration with your hand over his groin and kept it there, letting you feel him grow harder and harder as you worked.  Once done you waited for your next instruction. You didn’t have to wait long.

“Take off my belt.” His voice was a low purr that made you shiver. It sounded golden, like the rest of him, but toasted. Whiskey, amber, stained wood, tiger’s eye.

You bit your lip, embarrassed, by the smile that grew on your face in response to that order. The hands of a scholar unbuckled his belt. Enjin pulled his black shirt off and tossed it aside. You could finally see his tattoos on full display. Uninterrupted canvas covered in swirling ink. He wrapped arms, coiled with black and red, around you and grinned.

“Like what you see?”

You nodded, spellbound, a mouse and a trap. Your hands never stopped working and he was freed from his trousers. He was easily the largest man you had ever been with and that went for everything. Wandering hands traced all along him. Solid muscle corded his arms. The full breadth of his exposed shoulders, a living work of art.

His cock bobbed in the space between you. Tanner than the rest of him and the same bold veins that streamed the back of his hands. Head round and dripping. A honey blonde happy trail tapered between the valley of his V-line up to the circular tattoo at his belly. You drank of his comeliness. 

While you admired him he shimmied the rest of his clothes off. Enjin scooped you like you were nothing, returned to his seat and brought you with him onto his lap.

“Here’s what's gonna happen. You’re going to hop on, show me how much you can handle. When I see what we’re working with I’m going to take care of all the rest. Understood?”

You nodded. 

“Use your words.” He gave you an instructive, firm tap across the face, not to strike but the sternness of it caught you off guard. “Look at me, don’t look away. Understood?”

“Understood.” You smiled at the manhandling.

“Should be nice and open now, sweetheart. Take as much as you like.”

You grasped him, he was weighty in your palm. Little streamlets of pre dribbled from his tip. You gave a few steadying pumps, thumb gliding over the split of his head. You traced his weeping tip up and down your folds, painting yourself with him before finally positioning him.

You sunk down in slow, testing increments. Soft little gasps and sighs filled the air. There was a slow expansion at your entry that made you even more eager for the rest. Once his tip was secured past that initial ring of resistance, you took a second to relish. Even with all that preparation nothing could warn you how nice the stretch would be. 

He watched you gyrate your hips to encourage your walls to accommodate him. Enjin knew what you were trying to go for. His little overachiever and he knew for sure you could do it. He sat and watched your face as you felt Enjin’s cock fill you for the first time. Your tipsy smile appeared and your eyes glittered at the idea that this was your new standard.

Dark and mesmerized, his firelight eyes watched chubby lips gulp him down. He rubbed smooth, encouraging circles on your hips. Your pliant, silken cunt swallowed him up. Just like you she was hungry, ambitious, wouldn’t let anything stop her or keep him from her. Until at last, you were fully seated.

You let out the most unladylike, depraved moan. Your insides shifted around him. Gummy walls, while pliant, at such depths were unused to protrusion. Your body had almost settled in what it thought would be permanent placement. 

He dragged so beautifully and his curve hit that spongy spot from before along the way. You pulsed around him. You felt full and complete like he was the sweetest, snuggest puzzle piece. The one you had been missing your whole life.

Once you finally got a good slide built up, you did a few test bounces on him. Slow, heavy, loud and lewd slaps of skin from your descents rang through the air. You were smiling like you had just gotten a gold star.

“All the way… like this, please.” There wasn’t a thought behind those eyes. You had merely bottomed out and already cockdrunk. 

“You sure, gorgeous?” He teased.

“Please…” You couldn’t find the words. “Please… dont… be gentle.”

You leaned into him and had this desperate look in your eyes. You wanted to say something but for the first time you couldn’t find the words. Heartbreaking little pout, head swimming, your eyes trembled at not being able to say it.

Enjin knew what you wanted and had a million ways to say it in his world. You, however, from on high couldn’t find the words to tell him because it didn’t exist in your dialect. Don’t be gentle was all you could come up with. So he gave you the words. 

“Your greed sickens me.” He crooned low in your ear. “I know what you want. Little Miss Perfect just wants me to fuck you like my filthy little slut.”

He felt you shiver.

“Yes, please.”

“Bend over.” He didn’t even give you time to do it yourself. He just manhandled and tossed you onto the seat. With stern hands he guided you on all fours, to arch your back, to stay put and take it. Enjin tormented you, he slapped his cockhead against your entrance and listened to you whimper.

“Enjin, please!”

“That’s not very ladylike,”

“You’re so mean!” You bobbed back, hoping to catch him.

“Yeah, I am. Please what?”

“P-please…”

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it. I want you to hear you say it.”

“Please… I wan–I need…” You hiccuped.

“You’re almost there. Say it and it's all yours. What do you want me to do?”

“P-please–mph…” You looked over your shoulder at him. “Please… ruin me!” 

Enjin plunged deep. From behind he had a much easier give in this angle. Buried himself till his hips were flush against yours. There was only a split second before he began obliging his lovely lady and ruined you.

He started off with firm thrusts, letting you see for yourself first before revving up. Enjin snapped his hips and it was like you lost all sense. You needed to cling to something. Your hands flew everywhere and you wiggled, overcome with so much good and your body didn’t know what to do with it.

“I need you to hold still, baby.”

But you couldn’t. You were a thrashing mess, overwhelmed. How he slammed, his bruising grip on your hips, it was all too good. You couldn’t–or more accurately didn’t know how yet, to have it now that it was here. 

“Hold. Still.”

“I’m tryinnng.”

He gave a warning spank but he was by no means upset or frustrated. As a matter of fact he was grinning. “I need you to stay put.”

“I-I I don’t–I don’t kno–ow how yet.”

“Say less.” He moaned in excitement and began grappling. You squealed.

Enjin used his towering frame to pin you in place and leaned over you. He wrestled your hands together in one hand. With his other he reached over you and stretched out the seatbelt of the car. Enjin quickly and roughly tangled the lengths of strap around your wrists. Once your hands were bound and secured, he abruptly yanked down on the seatbelt till taut and released. The seatbelt’s automatic locking retractors kicked in and snapped back. Your fastened hands were seized, the spring forcing them to follow. This resulted in dragging your lassoed hands across the seat and your arms to be stretched out in front of you, now locked in place.

Just to be absolutely disrespectful, Enjin balled up your discarded, soaked panties.

“Open up.” He squeezed your cheeks and your lips naturally puckered. You dropped your jaw with eager obedience. Enjin gagged you with your own wet panties.

He raised your hips and started up again. He slid a hand down the length of your spine leading your back to curve instinctively. Back deeply arched and hands restrained you were now forced to lean your weight and center of gravity forward onto your elbows, anchoring you to be ass up-face down. Greedy, leaking cunt fully spread and exposed. He gripped your hips, sultry nectar seeped from your core.

“Hold still and take it.”

He slammed into you and you buried your face into his coat. Enjin chased the ripples he created. He narrated every little thing your body did. Hypnotized, he admired the recoil as his V-line impacted your plump cheeks. He landed a punishing, loud spank onto the globes of your ass and squeezed the jiggle. Nails dug and left behind little crescents. “Fuck, look at this ass,”

Now fully anchored you could enjoy and just take it. Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! 

Eyes rolled to the back of your head. Face buried in his coat below. The window of the car door had fogged. Pheromones perfumed the air. Hot humid pants between you. Two souls desperate for one another. Souls that waited so long and thought they would never find this.

Images of you half dressed and left unsatisfied flashed through his mind. Left frustrated and disappointed. Who in their right mind could see this and not be addicted? 

His jaw fixed itself. Flashes of you having to finish yourself, alone in the dark. Redressing yourself and no one to hold you. Now with all your glory in his hands Enjin settled the thought that those ungrateful chicken fuckers could not, in fact, handle all this.

He groaned and swiveled his hips into you. He worshipped how your ass wobbled when he did. The way you crashed back onto his happy trail. He savored the feel of soft plush against all his hard lines. Smooth skin against his brutal and scarred flesh. 

Gagged whimpers danced in the air around him. The doe-eyed look on your face as he fucked you simple. He could catch glimpses when he hung over you. Nothing else behind those eyes other than just wanting to be good for him. So on top of everything your whole life. One of the smartest people he knew. Constantly needing your guard up everywhere you went.

You were wound tighter than a screw. He bullied your poor cunt and jostled all the rest of you for it. He fucked out your stress, worries, the crick in your neck. Leaving him with a pliant, puddle of a person. Enjin drilled into your divine cunt. Molten heat that molded around him. That sucked him back in greedily upon entries, and constricted stubbornly at his exits. “It's like she never wants to let me go!”

Soft cushion everywhere he squeezed that absorbed his force and withstood his bruising pace. Just to prove his own point he rained down harsh, bruising spanks in quick succession. The slaps of skin earned another song. You moaned like a whore, muffled by the soiled panties in your mouth.

Where he gripped delicate skin spilled between the gaps of his fingers. He grabbed fistfuls wherever he could just to admire the way your body quilted under his grasp.

“Shit, look at you, babygirl.” Downright disgraceful strings of your syrup practically drizzled out and slickened everything. His balls, his thighs, your thighs, his coat below.

You looked depraved. There was no one around for miles but if someone did look through the fogged windows you would not have cared. You were at this point shameless. Split wide open on the best cock you have ever had, mewling like a tramp, bruised up and blushing about it. Soiled panties gagging your mouth. Hazed eyes that admired the seatbelt restraining your wrists. Covered in cum, both yours and his.

“Elegant lady in front of everyone, innocent looking bookworm, nerdy professor… with the sluttiest, greediest cunt hidden under all those layers.” Enjin got so absolutely lost in your sauce he ended up drilling you through your orgasm and did not let up through his. Your connection to each other slathered with a mixture of your creams. So put together all the time but now you looked so damn sloppy. 

Debauched slaps of skin on skin echoed. Demeaning state of undress, completely exposed. Defiled skin, stung from bruising handprints. Degrading scent of sex, tobacco and him wafted through the air, threaded throughout the splayed coat. Depraved taste of your own arousal gagged on your tongue.

He smirked and tsk’d. “Now, now, this is most unbecoming of a lady.”

Some cross between a sweet moan and laughing was insulated by your gag. “What would–fuck, your great aunt Petunia, ah–or whoever say if she saw you like this?”

Jingling laughter shook you, he could see it in your shoulders that trembled. It caused you to unconsciously clench around him in little stuttered pulses. Enjin softly massaged the bruised skin, reverently. You shivered and fluttered around him. SMACK!

“I bet you pictured me ripping off all those layers?” His voice lowered. Enticing, predatory and vicious. Nevermind the wadded up undergarments in your mouth. Between your face buried in his coat and being fucked plain dumb you couldn’t reply even if you wanted to. So straitlaced and top buttoned.

“I bet whenever we fight if I reached beneath those panties, she’s crying for me isn’t she?” He gave a deep and dirty grind. “You can have as much as you want–whenever you want. When my pussy needs to get dicked down, you let me know.”

Commanding grip squeezed into your pillowed hips as he pulled you back onto him. Enjin smiled hypnotized as his thumbs dug into the fat of your cheeks and gave you your own matching pair of dimples.

“All you have to do is look me in the eye and tell me. Tell me my lady needs me.”

Enjin leaned over, sliding a hand up the length of you, and gripped your face. He pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him and he could see your sorry state. Drool dribbled down your chin. You panted like a bitch in heat. You smiled when you saw his face towering over you. He was sort of upside down or parallel to you now. He was getting lower. He started rubbing his nose against yours, a mockingly sweet nuzzle.

“Tell me, Your Highness, when you want to be my pretty, little whore.” Enjin stopped abruptly when an idea struck him. “You know what I just realized?”

“Hm?” You hummed.

“Fair’s only fair. You marked your territory, would you like me to mark mine?” His voice was rasped and dangerous. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, nuzzling your nose against his in the process. Doting and docile. 

“Such a polite girl,” Enjin kissed you upside down, gagged with your own panties. You melted into him. Enjin withdrew from your kiss and, like a magician, he pulled your wet panties out in a long stream between his teeth. “Ta-da,”

He released your giggling face and unsheathed himself from your cunt. The world twirled as he flipped you flat on your back, your hands remained secured and stretched out. Enjin cradled your head in his hands as he straddled your shoulders. Rested atop your face was his cock. Monstrous and ambrosial, you felt his pulse on your skin. You smooched and suckled while he spoke.

“I’m going to tag you like a mural, baby.” He glided his tip over your lips before tapping. A person should always knock first before entering. You dropped your jaw instinctively.

His cock slid in. Enjin, attentive and caring, let you adjust, mindful not to gag you. His fingers earlier cleared and prepared the passage ahead. You eagerly hollowed your cheeks. Once he felt you weakly trying to bob against his grip, he went to Canvas Town.

Enjin, fully holstered down your throat, fucked your mouth like you were a toy. Mascara darkened tears trickled down your cheeks. Sweet, pouted lips wrapped around his instrument. Big, wet, doe eyes magnetized to your own drenched knickers dangling from Enjin’s teeth, framed cheekily between his dimples. He winked down at you.

You moaned as he dug into your mouth and the vibrations resonated into him. Enjin’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he groaned into a pained laugh.

You wanted to be ruined and he’d deliver. He had been right, you were bored of the cads in your novels now. Just like how the ground's liquor made the alcohol on the Sphere feel like water. Enjin made those dull rakes that ravished ladies, who ‘were not like other girls’, and all their heaving bosoms feel so tame.

He cradled your head, holding you in place, with hands so firm but safe. All while his snapping hips brutalized your throat. 

Schlick! Schlick! Schlick! Schlick! 

Your hot, loving, swirling, breathtaking mouth made him lose his damn mind. He had to relinquish the hold one of his hands had on you. With Enjin being as tall as he was, the car’s ceiling being shorter than him and this position’s angle, he had to steady himself grabbing the ‘Oh Shit’ handle above the door to support his weight. It also just really fucking helped that it gave him something to crush right now too.

Enjin knew what you wanted, to cut loose and do everything that would have made you clutch your pearls the first day you two had met. Because you know what? The world didn’t end when you got drunk and listened to loud music. You didn’t magically stop being smart, nice, or worthy of respect just because you wanted to get piledrived into the mattress. You didn’t have to be put together, dignified and on your guard even when trying to make love. You didn’t have to be perfect.

When he felt himself about to burst, it took all his will to pull out. He took himself in his hand and worked his wrist furiously. After a few desperate, panting, moaning–he moaned so prettily. Why don’t men vocalize like this all the time? Number one perk of falling for the world’s most annoying, incessant yapper.

“Eyes closed, hon.” He whispered. “Mouth ope–ah ah!”

Enjin spilled in his hand and painted you. He thought there would be less considering this not being his first orgasm of the night but he was happily surprised. He breathed heavy, watched the ropes paint your face, leaving a taste on your tongue. He slapped his heavy length across that pretty mouth and smeared his cum.

You sighed. He could see years of pent up tension release. He rested back on his haunches and you both panted together. He looked down and caught you gulping whatever cum had landed in your mouth. Your pretty tongue came out and licked around your lips. Swiped up and savored the taste of what you could reach. You were going to be the death of him.

“You havin’ fun, ma?” He wiped a teary rivulet on your cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, please don’t stop.” Your voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. Only natural after the workout he had put your throat through. You were beaming, such a joyful and sweet expression contrasting to such a vulgar and lewd visual.

“As you wish, milady.” Such a tender exchange in regards to such disgraceful behavior. 

He repositioned himself back at your hips, widened his stance and turned you on your side, your wrists still bound and arms still out stretched in front of you. Lifting your leg, Enjin draped your ankle over his shoulder. He turned his head, planted a tender kiss against your ankle beside his ear before hanging your panties off it. Enjin bottomed out at a delicious new angle. Seeing the confused and curious daze in your eyes, he knew you already had questions you couldn’t vocalize.

“It's called the praying mantis position, sweet girl.” A tattooed arm wrapped around your leg, his hand squeezed your thigh. He held onto you and began snapping his hips again. “And it's really nice for…”

He trailed off. Deeply penetrative, you began keening as the angle allowed him to hit that sweet spot inside from earlier purposefully.

“En-jhin!”

“There she is!” You were his now. His beautiful nag, his sexy genius, his permanent poker partner. His best friend, his better half, his old lady. He was entranced, watching you move.

You just wanted passion, love, drive. What was so wrong about wanting friends, a home, a dream? A lover that liked all of you, fucked you how you liked. His eyes trailed down to your weak fist. The hand that used to wear a ring. Desperate, small and punctured pants escaped you as Enjin unconsciously did quick consecutive hammers. His mind, broken, could only think in short bursts and half thoughts.

You’re alive. You jumped. You jumped right into his arms. He caught you. He’ll always catch you. Endless praise and compliments poured from Enjin’s mouth like a stream.

“Shit, right there,”

“So… fuckin’... pretty!”

“Take it, you can do another. This slutty pussy deserves another.”

“One more–you deserve one more…”

“Fuck, Your Highness… I… I…”

A vulgar, creamy ring had formed around his base. A cocktail of your syrup and his cum drooled through the edges of your opening from overflow. Splashed and popped against his blonde happy trail.

The only thing that could possibly break him from this spell was the look in your eye. You turned your head, a weak attempt to look up at him over your shoulder. Eyes filled with adoration as you watched him take care of you like you always wanted. Enjin could practically see little hearts in your eyes and his own chest stuttered.

“Fuuuck, those eyes baby.” He let out a pained laugh.

It was the conundrum of his dreams. Having a girl whose body was built for backshots but her face was made for missionary. His cup truly runneth over. Whatever shall he do? He gave a final, hearty slam before finding the will to pause. You whimpered and unsuccessfully tried to wiggle against him.

“I know, I know, shush.” He hushed, his mouth murmured into your leg that he was loving on, before leaning in closer. 

He unwrapped the binding around your wrists. Gracelessly, he just let go as soon as you were unbound, letting the seatbelt fully retract against the door. It clattered loudly above your head but he didn’t pay any mind. Enjin rubbed the indent marks left on your skin. Free now, he patted you on the hip and turned you over. You were boneless in his arms, fully on your back. He whispered everything he said, raspy and rumbling, into your ear. 

“Lift your hips for me, Your Highness.” You complied with all his instructions. Inclined more towards hums and coos than actual words, fucked plain simple. There was nothing behind those eyes but him. You eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Let me see those eyes, pretty girl.” Enjin purposefully braced his forearms on either side of your head. Boxed in by solid, flexed inked. You cooed and threw your arms around him.

There was so much of him. All around you was just so much him. He kissed you and started sinking his hips into you again with deep rolls. In your past life you used to be so bored of lying on your back like this. But now, it was so nice because he was so handsome and so good.

It was usually so annoying how good he was but your inhibitions and pride were long gone. You drank him in. Strong jaw and high cheekbones. Sunrise eyes. His hairgel had disintegrated by this point, golden hair draped across his forehead. Did he get a haircut? His undercut was fresh and clean. Pierced ears that made him look so fine.

His broad, painted shoulders flexed, muscles visibly shifted below the surface. Giant hands resting on either side of your head. Massive body that blanketed you. Shoulder blades that looked and felt like they deserved wings. The deep rumble you felt beneath them when he groaned low in your ear. Tobacco and distant, faded cologne that comforted and soothed.

His smile. His smile. His smile. His smile. Dimples. Dimples. Dimples. Dimples.

He was so handsome. Foreheads pressed together. “Don’t stop looking at me, pretty girl.”

You drowned in molten sunlight. Nodding, you clawed down his back and along his corded arms. If he hadn’t told you to focus most likely you would have started mindlessly sucking on his shoulder, absorbed by his tattoos. Everything was so intimate in this position. All you could do was babble his name.

Enjin learned something then and there that he couldn’t have learned with anyone else in the world. Missionary raw after almost dying and in love slapped so much harder. He caught the word in his head as he rolled his hips. Searched your adoring eyes and knew.

He lifted his hands and unwound yours from around his body. Enjin laced his fingers through your own and held your hands pinned above your head as he rocked rhythmically into you. He watched your earrings tremble with each slam.

Makeup melted completely off, watery mascara and cum smeared all over, drool dribbling down your chin from kissbitten lips. Neck already blooming in hickeys, bitemarks littered everywhere. You looked like a wreck. You looked like a wild mess. You looked like… like…

A swell of calm washed over him and his eyes softened to reflect that. You looked like so many things. You looked like a grounder, the love of his life, his person. You looked beautiful. 

Above all, you looked like yourself.

By this point your walls fused around him and you would be easily convinced that you had melted together. Honestly you were already pretty sure you had. Your body was exhausted but so over the moon. All these sensations that had started to feel like myth after a certain point were now overflowing and you didn’t want to stop. Your mind half gone and sense completely checked out. 

“C’mon baby, last one I promise.” You lost count of how many last ones you were up to but he said he promised. Mind you, he promised all those other times as well, but you nodded anyway. Believing him anyhow.

‘I don’t argue with men that have dimples. Whatever you say, handsome.’

The rich, raspy bourbon laugh rumbled in your ear. Completely unaware that you said that last part outloud. Nerves alight and singing, another swell started rising. The ghosts of tremors from previous crashes hadn’t even finished fading yet. He could feel them in his strokes.

If you looked thoroughly fucked out, then your cunt was in shambles. Flooded with cum, both yours and his. If he swiveled his hips he could feel it stir inside. Thighs bathed in cream. Despite all that, your walls eagerly milked him. Bullied, brutalized and plowed, your cunt still cried for him. Sucked him into you, loud slurping and clapping sounds shamelessly rang out like the heavy bass from the club speakers.

Open and eager for him. Such a sloppy, shivering, good girl. Pussy completely surrendered. Finally having been treated right and taken care of. This sweet, chubby, ripe cunt was split wide open and begging, pleading, praying to be devoured, exploited, worshipped. You spasmed around him, reaching your peak and it broke Enjin. He held your hands tighter through it. Felt your orgasm rack through your body, system overloaded. 

You gave one more cry of his name and he was a weak man. Heat surged, thrumming from deep within, and he kissed you. Enjin spilled over the edge and drowned you in the last ropes of his cum which you greedily accepted. Rivulets streamed out the sides and ran down both of one another’s thighs.

He thrummed even after there was nothing left spilling out. You rode your highs and tremors out, basked in the afterglow, still kissing. Eventually you two collapsed, muscles loosening. Without removing himself just yet, he rolled over to not crush you and pulled you with him. Locked in his embrace, surrounded by black and red clouds. Your pretty face rose and fell on his chest and Enjin held you tight. You stayed like that, allowing your heartbeats to settle and your breathing to even out. Like being held by the eye of a storm.

The trash storm was long gone, the roiling long over but neither of you had noticed. You laid there grounding one another, reality cementing in. You were both alive and right here.

Eventually, Enjin got up first and fished out a canteen from the back to share. He helped you drink water and made sure you ate some ration he had from his pack. Nowhere near as out of it as before but still a bit giggly, he took care of you.

You were quiet together in this little world you had carved out. Sturdy, stalwart hands rubbed and soothed where it stung. His mean mouth now kissed where he left bruises and bites. He watched you, he couldn’t not watch you. He smiled softly to himself in the dark. The first time he looked into your eyes they looked at him with raw terror. Now they looked at him like he was a bastion of safety.

At some point, he wadded up his ruined coat and helped you clean up as best he could, ruining his tie in the process of doing so. Exhaustion claimed you first. He caught your spare lighter on the floor amongst the clothes. Brushed his fingers over your temple, heart strings tugged in his chest as he picked it up.

He opened the window, cool night air entered. Enjin had the best cigarette of his life, a cool breeze across his face, your head rested in his lap as you slept. 

Headquarters was very lively the following days after your return. Immediately you and Enjin were swamped with paperwork and reports. You tried to be as dignified as possible but the giant elephant of any room you entered were all the lovemarks and evidence of your night together splattered across your skin.

The same animated energy between you returned and Enjin was insufferable about it. You tried so hard to be professional but there wasn’t a single thing you could say till it all faded. Over your dead body would you give him the satisfaction in front of everyone either.

Despite acting like you hated it he knew better. He was proven right a few nights later when he walked by your library. Hush, loud conversation pouring through the cracked open door from girl’s night inside. The joyful, tipsy voices of you, Tomme and Semiu asking all about your business.

“He did whaaat with the seatbelt?”

“And what were you like during all this?”

“Lemme tell you, my hands were tied but my pearls were clutched!”

“And after that was when he–”

“Girl, that boy had us there and we might as well had been boxing with my fucking uvula!”

With a grumble under his breath, he acquiesced. Cause fuck if the kid wasn’t right? He needed to teach them more irresponsibility honestly. He was never going to hear the end of it from Semiu, he just knew it. 

“Finish your sweep and the faster we can start heading back. Come on people, it's a long way back from here.”

And it was. You were silent almost the entire trip. It wasn’t until Enjin prodded you for some of your belongings to sell that you finally spoke. He explained they would need the money but that it was also a safety precaution for you. It was best to not be injured and dripping in high value items. Only one struggle was allowed.

You refused to part with your earrings, lovely, delicate, dangly little things.

“Shame, those earbobs would have made a killing too.”

There was a considerable silence and a pensive look on your face. You were many things but ungrateful or unreasonable were not any of them. Anyone could have found you and done anything with you. Your ankle was swollen and clearly a new unwanted complication to this landscape. They didn’t have to help. It would have made their own trip back home to safety easier. The least you could do was help where you could.

“Not my earrings but… here.” You unlooped your arm from the young teen boy that helped you hobble along.

Team Akuta watched you pull a beautiful ring off your left hand. Enjin studied you for a moment when you presented it to him. He cut through the tension with a jest.

“Ya sure, lady? This looks like some nice family heirloom or something?”

“It isn’t. I won’t be needing it anymore anyhow.”

You were weary of everything, the entire trip back and your whole first week on the ground. Dilated pupils and hitched breath with every new face that approached you. 

You warmed up to the kids first, then Semiu, then Eisha and August. But it wasn't until the boss, himself, came to speak with you a few days later in the infirmary that you finally seemed to settle. 

Arkha Corvus took his time, calmly and patiently, explained everything to you about the Cleaners and what they did. You had what felt like an endless stream of follow up questions.

Color Enjin fucking surprised when at the very end of you lengthy conversation with Corvus, you asked to sign up.

Corvus tried to comfort you with the possibility of returning home. He told you about some people’s pursuit of finding a way back to the Sphere and offered a likeness to bond over with Rudo.

Enjin’s jaw damn near dropped when you politely refused that avenue.

“I would like to sign up… but I do not want to go back.”

While you were not shy to voice your discomfort, one complaint you made sure to keep to yourself, was living on the Sphere. By no means did you ever want to come across like life was so much worse up there. Finally seeing first hand all the hardships on the ground, you knew you had it better. On the ground there was constant danger, from trash beasts, the landscape, the falling debris, even the air itself was poisonous.

On the Sphere, you never went hungry or thirsty. You always had the medicine you needed if you got sick, a roof over your head. But the Sphere…

People hated the Sphere for the way it treated everyone beneath it. How it tossed aside everything in excess, anything deemed unworthy. How a single tarnishment or undesirable quality was grounds to be culled and discarded. That philosophy didn’t stop with just things.

Perfection was mandatory. Perfection was survival. Everything was a competition. Every little thing you said, did, wore, ate, etc. was measured for weakness. The Sphere was like a pit of vipers. Constantly looking for a flaw to exploit, a misstep to crucify you with. Everyday was constant vigilance, a game of wits, a social gauntlet.

To be a social pariah for any reason on the Sphere was death or ruin. Even then, you could do everything correctly and still lose if you weren’t sharp enough.

You were a scholar, a life long academic with your sights set on bureaucracy. A list of initiatives and causes a mile long but none of them truly mattered at the end of the day. An ambitious fire tempered by the shallowness of the world around, while you had dreams most of them would leave you an outcast. Everything bored you about the Sphere. You were a driven soul stir crazy for purpose. 

Poised and perfect, head of your class, leader of your organizations and committees. In layman’s terms, an overachiever. With a hungry mind and restless heart you wanted to do something worthwhile. All the paths laid for you left you unsatisfied, you set your eyes on lofty goals. What if we could salvage the world? Instead of this comfortable stagnation that you proposed would be unsustainable. 

Everything on the Sphere was dull. Dating on the Sphere was a bore. You’d had your fair share of boyfriends. Eventually you met what your parents selected for you as the one.

An arrangement between your families, decided and planned on both your behalfs. He was actually kind of good looking, you attended school together, met again through work and had hit it off. Your parents decided during the first week you two would marry after the proper courting ritual.

You remembered being thrilled. You had gotten along well, great even. The best boyfriend you had ever had. So you two continued on behind closed doors. All the proper and appropriate courting in public but you were together in private. He said he liked your boldness. He liked your brilliance and working together with you. You partnered together on every campaign, project, initiative, movement, research study, so on and so forth.

You thought everything was going to go well. Until you made the mistake of forgetting where you were. 

The night you confided in him about deciding to pivot your goals in your career and pursue change was the night you saw you were also just an accessory. Your boldness was palatable as long as it suited his palate. 

He revealed the expectation that you were to retire after marriage. Everything on the Sphere was picture perfect. A wife and children were perfect additions to one’s image in society. Assets to bolster his candidacy for his pursuits. People liked propriety, constancy, and safety. You were a lifelong social climbing tactic of promising security, certitude, and above all, the status quo.

“This talk of the finiteness of our peace will scare people. Disrupt orderliness, incite terror.”

We should be afraid.

“But I am not archaic. I would not deny us both your brilliance. You are more than welcome to continue providing your facilitations and counsel to our pursuits in private. To refrain from utilizing your adroit efficacy would be foolish. Though you, of course, would need to cease your penchant for your… midnight proclivities.”

He spoke like he was negotiating a contract and not the rest of your life. You forgot, people were merely business partners, investments, competition. Silly you.

The cards were dealt and this was the role you were to conform to. Give up your convictions and spend the rest of your life working towards the antithesis of your beliefs while he reaped all the rewards and renown. Was he still talking?

“No.”

“... then, of course, I would presen–excuse you?”

It all quickly fell apart from there after. It was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Don’t make him look bad by stirring the pot. The engagement couldn’t be ended, you were already public. Breaking it would cause a stain to his reputation.

You didn’t comply. You wouldn’t be his accessory and you could not keep quiet so you couldn’t be his wife anymore. But he couldn't dissolve your betrothal without tarnishment which led to the only acceptable manner to disburden himself of you. 

No one could fault a widower. Would he even technically be a widower if you hadn’t married yet? It didn't matter. It was how you ended up here. Corvus accepted your offer to sign up on the spot. 

If you had told Enjin that a cute little thing like you ended up here because of having a hit out on you, Enjin would've believed it. However, he thought at the very least you would have been framed for something like Rudo. But your Fiancee just straight up tried to ice you in the dead of night. The Sphere just sounded worse and worse the more he learned about it. 

Enjin honestly expected you to struggle. To have squeaked and squawked at everything that displeased you. To throw yourself into despair at the first sign of trouble but you weirdly enough, acclimated. Dare he say, thrived?

Your pack was probably alphabetized. Whenever he needed to stop in or pass by your room in HQ, everything was orderly, neat and color coded. Despite your complaining you requested to attend every job you could. You asked countless questions and asked everyone to show you how to do things yourself. Honestly you were much better suited for office work with the bigwigs but you wanted to be on the field. 

With your social skills, brains, quick wit and sharp tongue you quickly became the go-to for recon, spy and intel assignments. But since you also signed up for every assignment under the sun that meant you and Enjin spent copious amounts of time together. 

An undeniable born and bred Sphereite but unlike Rudo, from high society.

The truest blue blood he’d ever seen. You were a classy lady and a total smokeshow. How you managed to look elegant in the same uniforms and materials as all the rest of them, Enjin had no idea. You possessed an ample figure and perfect posture, courtesy of your ritzy Sphererite upbringing, highlighted by your uniform. Seriously, how did you do that?

There was never a moment you didn’t look like royalty. Your uniform was somehow always void of stains or any kind of wrinkles. Your casual wear on off days was put together and classy. While you moaned daily about the loss of your boudoir you took meticulous care with what you had.

Always done up like a fancy woman. Pretty lipstick fixed into a permanent disapproving pout whenever Enjin was around. Perfectly manicured and painted nails that never chipped that, at least once a day, pointed directly between his eyes during a lecture. Your pair of dangly earrings you refused to part with, bobbed delicately when you spoke. It became a habit whenever he was tuning you out to catch himself looking at them instead. They naturally drew the eye down to the column of your neck.

A delicate smile usually hidden behind your pretty painted nails. Elegant features highlighted by your stern expressions that made you downright unapproachable.

He caught between blinks, quiet moments, and imperceptible sighs, the interest to connect and make friends but were not sure how to. Maybe scared people didn’t like you. Or that they assumed you wouldn’t like them.

He began instigating just to get a reaction out of you. You always rose to the occasion. It just so happened to help people see that you were human too. And besides, he found bothering you was fun.

When he flicked your earrings, you swatted away his hand. Whenever you bent over and he got to check out the high slit in your skirt or a peek of your thigh high boots he whistled. To which you promptly told him to go to hell.

“Hold up, hold everything,” Enjin teased you whenever you touched up your makeup on the field. “Better now, milady?”

Using whatever reflective surface that was handy you checked for any smudges, or repositioned the clasp of your necklace to the back of your neck. One time you used the metal blades on Umbreaker as a mirror.

“Yes, actually. Proceed.” You smacked and popped your lips at yourself. You looked over the blades to the wielder, unamused at his sarcasm.

Enjin almost never referred to you with your actual name. Evidently, he much preferred an endless stream of mocking titles and superlatives. Kindled further when you always retorted with snobby, smarty pants comebacks as he liked to put it.

“Snob.”

“Lowbrow.”

“Bookworm.” 

“Franion.”

“Prude.”

“Reprobate.”

“Blue blood.”

“Recidivist.”

“Now you’re just making up words!”

“I’m really not, that’s the sad part.”

“Your Highness,” Enjin grinned in anticipation, dimples flashing. Your Highness was his particular favorite on the roster. Entirely because you always lanced back with his favorite response.

“Scoundrel,” You sneered. There it was. That no nonsense bite in your voice came smoothly out, that barked haughty orders, instructions, decrees. The way you managed to look down your nose at a grown man taller than you. Pretty eyes that glared daggers at him whenever he provoked you.

Enjin’s traitorous ass kids all took a liking to you. For all your intimidating, high class demeanor, you were great with kids and teens. Being a professor refined your skills on bonding with the young. “Children teach you just as much as you teach them.”

First was, inevitably, Rudo. Enjin had to pretend to not be hurt by that. It's always the youngest ones that break your heart. Rudo followed you around like a duckling.

You were kind and worse still, inquisitive. Practically designed for Rudo to get attached. You asked him about all his projects with such nerdy, sincere interest and worst of all, the killer finishing move, you had follow up questions. OH FUCK OFF!

Two peas in a pod, two trueblooded What If-ers, your eyes lit up with curiosity the same way too. You went to Rudo to teach you all about Vital Instruments and how anima worked. Rudo made it his personal mission to help you find yours.

Riyo and Zanka, while not as completely fervent as Rudo, also grew some fondness for you.

You asked Riyo about cultural ground life questions the most. She helped you acclimate to how all the little daily things worked in this new life. But what really got the ball rolling between you was style. You talked about hair and clothes. It was so much more expressive down here. On the Sphere, while lovely, all the clothing and haircuts were uniform-like. A world surrounded by fuck ass bobs tugged at Riyo’s heart strings like you were the truest sufferer. 

Zanka was the most unexpected conundrum. While most alike in demeanor, you could barely understand him at first. It was very clear slang was not much of a thing for you but you could figure most of it out with body language and context clues. Zanka’s incredibly informal manner of speaking and rhythm sounded like another language.

You were glued to him, determined to learn. Once you had gotten adjusted to his accent you asked Zanka what any slang you didn’t understand meant. Zanka, charmed and flattered, that someone so bright needed tutelage and went to him instantly caused him to warm up. 

“‘Murc’ means kill as in to-kill or get-killed, but ‘Slay’ is a compliment of something you are doing well?”

“Yes!”

“Calling someone ‘Unc’ and saying ‘Grown Man By The Way’ are both slight jabs at someone’s age but ‘Old Lady’ can be affectionate? It sounds mean.”

“Correct! ‘Old Lady’ can be mean if you’re just calling her that but if you’re calling her someone’s old lady, then that’s affectionate. Cause you're not really talkin’ about her age.”

“Hold on, let me write this down.”

Pfft, nerd. For all his jabs at you being pretentious just when Enjin thought he understood you another contradiction revealed itself. 

You had a hidden curious and adventurous streak. Competitive and driven, you wanted to learn how to do things yourself. You would squeak, sometimes even wave your hands in fear, or shudder in disgust. However it was only ever a moment. Without fail, after a second of collecting yourself, you followed through. It was as if you were… eager to get your hands dirty.

Maybe overwhelmed initially, when faced with the reality before you, but then you committed. There was that same spark of determination that drove you through academia. While so many things made you gasp, so many other things excited you.

“Show me how to drive,” 

You had asked Gris to teach you after the first time you rode in a motor vehicle. This is where Enjin saw first hand being a life long academic demonstrating itself. You quietly observed and then replicated. You analyzed and logged with meticulous study. You repeated everything until you were satisfied with your own results. Gris gave you his blessing and the clearance to drive on missions shortly after.

On your very next outing without Gris, you turned to Enjin. “Now show me how to drive like you.”

He quirked a brow, stupid smirk on his face. “Word?”

You simply nodded. A hint of mischief hidden behind stern eyes.

“Bet.”

You learned how to do things properly, you completed tasks properly. But once everything was accounted for and secured, once all the twenty steps on your imaginary clipboard were followed and you spotted an opening, you acted out.

Now on the ground you could explore. You experimented every impulsive thought you buried deep down on the Sphere. When you first heard grounder music, it intrigued you. Enjin expected you to turn your nose but you stared in–was that fascination? Excitement? You gawked at the clothes people wore to go out, he expected you to blush and turn a prude eye. But you watched and admired all the colors women wore.

You had asked Semiu to show you grounder nightlife except only that wasn’t what you called it at first. “Can you take me to a grounder cotillion?”

“Co-what now? 

“Um, a gathering to listen to music and dance?”

“You want to go dancing? I mean, sure, but it's not going to be like any of those fancy galas you know.”

“Do you promise?”

The next time Semiu and Tomme had a night on the town you joined. What you saw titillated you. Pounding music that made your heart race. Informality abound that was raw and wild. Even though the place was dirty and dingy, everything was so much more vibrant. Electric. Alive.

Flashing lights, scantily clad grinding bodies and crackling speakers blaring heavy bass that resonated in your bones. This was everything you wished the after festivities behind closed doors back home were. Above all what ensnared you most was how animalistic the dancing was.

Promiscuity hung thick in the air, amplified by an endless variety of alcohol. So much stronger than the wines you had on the Sphere. It burned the back of your throat and caused you to cough the first time around. Semiu and Tomme encouraged and helped pace you. You knew well how to take a shot but the liquor, if you could even consider it that now, on the Sphere was water compared to this. Your nerves tingled, you giggled and hiccuped, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. 

The truth was you were pristine with a sterling reputation, at least, in public. You mastered concealing what you got up to behind closed doors and the cover of midnight. All because you wanted everything.

Organized and thorough even down to your rebelling. You took pride in your work, passions as well as impulsive desires and dedicated as much precision to them. You attended all the hidden socials, drank contraband spirits, read sultry novels and fornicated.

It was maddening how stale everything was. How shameful it was to want to feel excitement. So you didn’t let them stop you. You searched for it every night off you could. Otherwise be driven to cabin fever by the doldrums and ennui of societal life. Except the cabin was a floating rock for which there was no escape save death.

You slept with men and were disappointed. Eager to learn and experience everything you read about and kept hidden in your thoughts. In your younger years, you believed yourself the issue. As the years passed and you got older, you saw that you could enjoy your raunchy novels fine and had made yourself orgasm plenty of times. Inevitably you shedded that view. Unsatisfied, you kept having boyfriends and sex. You kept searching.

You searched for pleasure. You searched for thrills. You searched for purpose. You searched for more fulfilling goals. You searched for substance. You searched for life. Any sign of it. And now you danced. You danced and danced and danced for hours.

Imagine Enjin’s surprise when he saw you out that night. He did not approach at first and watched from a distance.

Elegant going out attire that was no doubt your definition of scandalous. A low neckline and the most leg you’d ever been permitted to show in your entire life. Your clothes hugged your figure and revealed your curves. Your midriff was exposed, soft belly pouch and love handles spilling through the opening between your cropped top and skirt. And those sexy ass earrings that drew his eyes downward now to find generous cleavage.

Well I’ll be damned.

You were shy at the start of the evening but then quickly took part. You drank and turned down men left and right like you were that girl. Which you kind of were tonight. You laughed and danced. He wondered if this must be what watching a flower bloom might feel like.

You crossed paths with others from HQ but he let you be for the most part. Only stepping in when some guys couldn’t take a hint. Hours passed before inevitably the crowd spilled into the street and began splitting up. 

Some chose to head home and others chose to go bar hopping. It was clear you were done, Semiu and Tomme telling you to take it easy for your first night out. Clearly they wanted to keep going but were being good friends. Enjin offered to take you back. He was done for the night himself.

“You sure, man?”

“Yeah, I was going to head back anyway. I’ll make sure she gets back to HQ in one piece.”

You thanked them for letting you join them tonight and parted ways. You clung to Enjin’s arm to avoid stumbling in the street.

You walked in relative silence but it was amusing being your designated walker. You were weirdly responsible, even whilst inebriated. Having reached flat out drunk earlier in the evening, you made sure to drink water and eat. Ever mindful, you had nursed yourself back to tipsy. Tipsy, for you, meant a giggly, smiling, pretty little thing that couldn’t walk in a straight line if your life depended on it. 

A quick rain burst sent you squealing underneath an awning even though Enjin clearly had Umbreaker in his hand. He followed, it looked like you needed a minute to sit anyway. He crouched down beside you on the stoop and lit a cigarette.

“Didn’t peg you for the club type, Your Highness.”

“I di-d,” You hiccuped.

“I thought you’d miss your fancy soirees or whatever the fuck you guys got going on up there? Not exactly diamond hors d'oeuvres and harps.”

“Hm, I know,” You cheesed.

“So what gives? Why did you hound Semiu about this all week?”

You hummed, pleasantly buzzed and bit your glossed lip. “... We didn’t have this on the Sphere.”

“What, clubs? Like you guys don't got music, booze or dancing up there? Probably a thousand times better than us groundfolk. No need to act like you don’t miss it I’m sure.”

You shook your head at him, sending your earrings flying. He cocked an eyebrow curiously, watched how they smacked your cheeks. “I miss a lot of things,”

“But somehow you don’t want to go back?”

“No, I don’t.” Your head swayed. “But I miss the things I had. I miss the food, and the clean water, and the buildings with no leaks. I miss my bed and I miss my perfumes and oils…”

“But?”

“But not this… not music. There’s nothing to miss. Tonight was the best music I’ve ever heard. You, here on the ground, have real music.”

Enjin smiled, scratched the corner of his smirk with his thumb and decided to correct your grammar. “We.”

You smiled. “We, here on the ground, have real music.”

You never gave details about the Sphere or why you didn’t want to go back so he never pried. None of them at HQ did. This was the first peek you gave.

“Music on the Sphere is so sterile. I’ve never heard anything like this. I didn’t know music can make you feel… so alive.”

“Well, glad to have your approval, milady.” He paused and considered. “You know, there’s a music festival coming up that might be right up your alley.”

“Is it like the music from tonight?”

“Nah, tonight was all club beats. This is more grounder rock.”

“Like the stuff Riyo listens to?” You chirped excitedly.

Damn it, you were actually pretty fucking cute. Tipsy or sober, your eyes practically glittered with giddiness when something interested you. He had to admit as far as initial impressions went, he had you all wrong.

“Yeah, it's a bunch of different bands and acts that all group up and have concerts all in the same place. It's called the Trash Talk Tour,” Enjin reached into his pocket and pulled out a creased, old flyer he had pulled off a board the other day and handed it to you. “People get dressed up in costumes and there’s usually a fireworks show too.”

You took it gleefully and struggled to read it over. You opted instead for merely admiring the picture and the long list of performers. You turned back and had your lip caught between your teeth, like a little kid debating whether or not to tell a secret.

“You know I told myself I’d never tell you this cause I’m sure you’d never let me live it down,” You giggled and then hiccuped.

A brow rose, intrigued. He watched your head sway and your earrings followed.

“But on the Sphere… I was the bad girl.”

Enjin grinned like the cat that caught the canary. Shut. Up.

He leaned in slyly. “Go on.”

And you did. You went on at length of your clandestine search for vices. Partying behind closed doors and obscured beneath responsibly completed daily schedules. Oh you were completely right.

He absolutely, positively was never going to let you live this down. He would be insufferable. Never about any of your cravings or lust for life though. This was the most human you had ever felt. But he’d bet his last smoke, if you remembered this conversation in the morning, that you’d hate that you opened up to Enjin about it. When you finished he put out his cigarette.

“C’mon… rain stopped.”

You immediately started whining. “Hmmm, I caaan’t! I can’t take another step. My feet are killing me! And I can’t walk barefoot in the street like a ruffian.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you dance wearing shoes like that for hours.” He tried not to roll his eyes. Ruffian? At this rate you two would never get back to HQ. “Come here.”

“Wha–ah!” You let out a small shriek of panic as gravity abruptly shifted beneath you. Enjin draped your arms around his shoulders and piggy backed you up off the ground. “You don’t ha–”

“It's fine. Let’s go, already! Your noble steed would like to go to fucking bed some time tonight.”

You didn’t protest anymore. Tightening your arms around his shoulders, you buried your face into his shirt, chasing that lingering cologne. Softly, you mumbled. “Thank you, Enjin.”

That was the first time you thanked him for anything. It was strange, after that night you still went at it like cats and dogs. He still may or may not have enjoyed ruffling your feathers and pulling on your proverbial pigtails. But he started paying attention to that bold side a little more.

You groaned the next morning. Not from any hangover, honestly that might have been preferable, but from Enjin’s incessant jabbering about your vulnerability the night before. Worst of all you hated how you caught yourself with flushed cheeks remembering last night.

How he walked you back home, which was sort of gentlemanly you supposed. Okay, maybe not gentlemanly but at the very least a decent man. Surprised to discover how solid his arm was underneath those long sleeves. How your heart raced when he bundled you up effortlessly and carried you home. While he complained about it, he went out of his way so you didn’t take another step on aching feet. His scent of tobacco and fading spiced cologne lingered still. 

He noticed when you were having trouble trying to talk and get to know people. Despite never saying anything, despite being trained to hide behind a stoneface your whole life, Enjin noticed. You knew what he was doing, getting under your skin all day, and appreciated it. You gave credit where it was due, he was a good team leader.

Loathed to admit it, feelings had begun to sow in you. You lashed out twice as much now in hope Enjin would not notice. But Enjin did catch it, long before you did. He never brought it up. He might be a prick but he tried not to be an asshole as much as he could help it. He thought it cute, though predictable. Waved it off as nothing serious.

Just an uptown girl face to face with something new and exciting. Something he would normally entertain. However you were a fish out of water down here, fresh from a tragic engagement and way in over your head. Once the novelty wore off, you’d move on. And he wasn’t going to capitalize on your ignorance or romanticizations. 

So he played with you. He fought with you. Once in a blue moon he sprinkled in an insinuating comeback just to watch you get flustered. You’d tell him to go to hell.

It wouldn’t last forever. Eventually you would get your bearings. You would acclimate and see the reality of your new world. When you did, a knockout like you, could have anyone of your choosing down here. An ambitious, sophisticated lady probably knew exactly what she would be into and what she was looking for. And it wouldn’t be Enjin. 

Stubborn beyond belief. It was like pulling teeth to offer any help. It was clear whatever your life was back on the Sphere, it drilled this insatiable need to be perfect. A complete teacher’s pet that studied and wrote notes about everything. Enjin would be lying if he claimed he didn’t find you impressive though.

You always had a back up plan for the back up plans, just in case. There was no T left uncrossed and no I left undotted on your watch. Methodical, militant, all your P’s and Q’s were minded.

Little Miss Perfect through and through. Of course his first natural assumption was you to have been a goody two shoes that never misbehaved a day in your life. The kind that would have sooner broken a bone before breaking a rule. Until your drunken confession showed him otherwise.

It was fun getting under your skin and watching Your High-And-Mightiness reveal your manicured claws. It didn’t matter what smart ass comment Enjin made, your parry was always at the ready. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it sexy as hell. You could take just as well as you could dish.

“See, what I tell ya?”

An almost cinematic explosion of hunting hound-like trash beasts erupted from the carcass of a giant slayed trash beast. Poured out of cracks, the open jaws and weak points in the structure, the swarm flooded the roads. Once regrouped, what looked like a leader spotted you both. The leader wrenched back its head and let out a haunting howl. In the distance you could hear the faint reply of distant swarms answering the call.

“Ahaha…”

You, somehow, glared daggers at him through your full face. Well, at least your arms were akimbo instead of crossed. So there was that.

“Oh look, the bridge you said we’d cross! Now that we got here, oh fearless leader, by all means enlighten me?”

“You know girl, your negativity is a real character flaw of yours.”

“Heeeeey, gorgeous!” Enjin sweet-talked you over the communications collars constantly. Always initiated by purposely lowering his voice to whisper in your ear.

“... No.”

“Damn, I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You didn’t have to.”

“What do you mean it's gone?”

You were glaring at him but this time it was the serious-issue he definitely did fuck up this time type of glare. He patted down his pockets, his coat, his hidden compartments within. This delivery mission’s doohicky was nowhere on him.

“Well you see–”

“When was the last time you had it?”

He rested his chin in his hand and tried to retrace his steps. The last time he felt its weight against his hand, buried in his coat was… Shit. He opened his eyes and your arms were crossed, foot tapping expectantly.

“Well?”

“Aha, that would be when I tried to shoot my shot with those bar ladies…”

“Unbelieva–”

“Hey, hey, hey ya know, I’m sure if we retraced our steps the fucking whatchamacallit–”

“Do you not even know what it's called?”

“Of course!” He brought a dramatic hand to his chest and feigned being appalled.

“What’s it called?”

“I am wounded! It's called… the… the… Woof, Zanka help me out here?” Unable to keep up the bit Enjin lowered his voice to a clearly still audible stage whisper and turned to Zanka.

“Tra–”

“Zanka, don’t help him!”

“Damn, your majesty, fine! It's called the trans… amabob-inator?”

You began spluttering. Why did you have to get paired with the most asinine ignoramus? What did you do in a past life to deserve this?

“You–y–you,” Your hands were hooked into claws, clearly trying not to throttle him.

“Me, me, me, me.”

“Don’t! You–you you l-l-l,” 

Enjin didn’t have anything smart to say because he was the one holding onto the thingamajig. The fact that he couldn’t even remember the macguffin’s name might have been the straw that caused you to short circuit. Normally so quick-witted with a smart girl clapback, here you were struggling not to kill him.

Oh damn, he really was in trouble if you were so angry you couldn’t even get the words out. 

“Lllllll-oser? No, that’s not it? Lazy! No? L-ost? L-ow iron?” Enjin tried to help you sound out whatever you were trying to call him but couldn’t think of many mean things to say that started with L. You started pounding on his chest, trying your best not to smile, even more frustrated with his assistance in your roasting of his character. “L-eft handed? It better not be lanky?”

“Uggggh!”

Already offended, he grabbed you by the wrists, restricted your swats and began arguing back about the hypothetical jab at his physique. He was grinning while he bickered, seeing you clearly trying not to laugh. The sheer ridiculousness of the moment finally broke you from your spell.

“Yooooou le-l-l… you lecherous mooncalf!” You shouted in the middle of the street. People were already stopping to stare but now it was amusing.

“Huuuuuh? What did you just call me?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Yeah, actually ya did!”

“Good! Then that means you heard me twice!”

“All in a day’s work. I made that ambush my bitch, right milady?" Enjin grinned, winking at you. He held up Umbreaker and what looked like a muffler that was also wielded in the vanquishing of foes. Grinning at you through the side of his face, Umbreaker and the Counter-Ambush-Muffler rested against his shoulders.

“I’m not going to call you a good boy, Enjin. You almost let Rudo get snatched by organ movers.”

“You’re so mean, doll!”

“Diva.”

“Louse.”

“Crybaby.”

“Vulgarian.”

“Actually, I’m a leo.” He winked. You must have lost your mind because you let out a faint snort. “Did you just laugh?”

“No!”

“You did!”

“As if! 

“I should call the boss!” He mimed activating his collar while you snipped at him. Now when you jabbed at each other there was a tinge of, dare Enjin say it, friendliness. Two people that got along because they were both assholes.

He did not fail to notice the tinge of a blush on your cheeks when you bickered or when he stood too close. Damn, he must be funny if someone smart like you had a crush on him.

Secret daredevil and moonlight wildchild you may have been, you were still a high class Sphereite. A detail that anyone could, and everyone did, clock a mile away. You were constantly getting threatened.

Attempted kidnappers and human traffickers that wanted to sell you for parts. Bandits and scavengers that wanted to rob you blind. Rudo attached to your hip any time you were on a mission together made it practically two for the price of one!

While beyond clueless about ground living or customs, which got yourself into trouble countless times, you seemed to have a knack for getting out of it too. You could bluff like a fucking champ. Spouting ancient nerdy knowledge that normally Enjin would tune out if anybody else recited to him. 

Once in the car, all possible routes blocked and the crew on their last fumes, you told everyone to look bored. Turning up the radio to full volume, you scrambled onto the roof of the car.

“What the shit is that gonna do, girl?”

“I wasn’t fucking asking. I am telling you! Look bored, you squawking buzzard!”

“Noooo, mom and dad are fighting. Please not in front of the kids.” Riyo deadpanned from the backseat. Enjin whirled on her, spluttering, while you laughed already climbing out your window.

“Excuse you?”

“Just listen to her, we’re going to die anyway, so might as well.”

When the enemies had reached you, they found a parked car playing music. Sphereite woman perched prettily out in the open, filing her nails, unbothered. You looked up at the opposing force and waved. The real kicker was when you pretended to check the time.

“Boss… that’s a fucking trap.”

“Now that I think about it, don’t cleaners usually have whole teams? I'm only seeing a guy, the Sphereite bitch and a bunch of kids.”

You huffed impatiently, making a show of looking like you were ready to wrap this up. You started lazily counting men with your nail file and kicking your little feet that dangled over the side.

Enjin could not believe it. You were not pulling a life or death bluff, were you? He was so angry. He was so proud. He was so going to teach you how to play poker if they managed to make it back to HQ alive. If he called dibs on you as a partner now–

“Yeah, let’s regroup with the rest before heading in. Would’ve worked too if that lady wasn’t such a bad liar.”

Holy fuck. In a few minutes the roads were cleared and Enjin had them shrinking in the rearview. The kids clapped on you from the backseat. When Enjin asked what the fuck that was you cited some smart girl bullshit about classic literature from the ancient world.

In the novel, a general had blundered and had his soldiers sent away somewhere else. The city was left completely defenseless. While the soldiers were all gone, the opposing army started marching in on them. The general had opened the gates wide, sat atop his open walls and started playing music. The opposing army bought his gammon of making the attack on the city look too easy. Believing it was a trap they retreated.

“Like Riyo said, we didn’t stand a chance of winning so I thought, might as well.”

“You know what, Miss Thing, hell yeah! Classic literature slaps!”

You used long words that sounded like poetry coming out your mouth. You read thick books that looked sexy in your hands. You analyzed maps and consulted strategies. You played chess and shit. You were killer at poker. Years of etiquette training, honing your prudence and decorum made you a natural.

Introducing you to Alice had made Enjin’s entire day. He worshipped the woman himself and knew you would too. Alice instantaneously became your new favorite person and you had practically inhaled her research. You were the newest member to the Alice fan club and vice president now. Bowing only to Enjin’s seniority in the position.

“You’re new to this, I’m true to this life.” As he had put it. You laughed.

As a professional Miss Busybody, there was never not a project going on. Either always in the middle of learning a new skill or heralding a new theory. Somewhere along the way you had volunteered to the big man about accumulating all the discoveries from the field and conducting research towards the cause. Even talked the brass into letting you man the new initiative of setting up and running a library at HQ.

You and Tomme had hit it off with flying colors. As the other resident nerd that recorded everything she practically lit up like a firework when you pitched to her the project. Thick as thieves from that point onward. 

Sometimes Enjin would walk by or stop in to check on your progress with the passion project. You looked so in place. Like this was your natural habitat. Smooth hands dotted with callous, the permanent writer’s bump on some fingers. Evidence of years in libraries and lecture halls. 

There was quite a bit of formal training and study that involved joining the Cleaners organization. The physiology of trash beasts, the study of anima, actual physics to better master their techniques, so on and so forth. Not to mention plenty of members that were children still in need of the basic courses. 

Naturally, Miss Thing, you finished in record timing. Though you tried your best to shade and hide your excitement. Enjin may or may not have been the only one to catch how your eyes glimmered if anyone asked for help on an assignment or question.

Enjin may or may not have mentioned your having been a professor or some kind of fancy teacher whatever-the-fuck back on the Sphere around the boss. How you connected with the youth on his team so naturally. He made damn sure to wander into the library when Corvus approached with his offer.

It was adorable the way you lit up, tried so hard not to tear up, when asked to be a teacher again for the Cleaners. How you tried not to jump at accepting and play it cool. When Corvus left it was just you and Enjin in the room.

“Thank you.” Your voice was thick and didn’t trust yourself to say much else.

“Who, me? What makes you think I had anything to do with this? Besides, it only makes sense to set you up with that gig.”

“Hm, of course you’re right. Apologies for my accusations.” You smiled, possibly the softest he’s ever seen you smile too.

“Have fun though, Teach.”

They lined the wall behind your desk with a salvaged chalkboard. You plotted out a course plan within a week. Between assignments you taught classes in your library several times a week. You taught everything; reading, science, mathematics and history. The classes were small and very hands-on.

Enjin watched you teach a few times. He saw firsthand how animated you were standing at your blackboard, an open book in one hand and chalk in the other. How you made sure everyone felt comfortable enough to ask for help and raise their hand when they needed it.

The lessons were pretty open and flexible, considering your classes consisted of a wide range of different ages, levels and needs. A few of the adults sat in during subjects they might have missed out on growing up once in a while. You made sure to make them feel welcome.

There were a few evenings when your girls nights were hosted in your library. It wasn’t often but it was hard to miss. It was actually kind of funny how you and your friends struggled to keep your voices down. You made sure it was always late into the evening and you called the shots in the library anyway.

This corner of the base began to feel like your domain. The same way the front desk belonged to Semiu. There were times Enjin would find his feet taking him there on autopilot before he realized what he was doing. You could be found hard at work researching well into the late hours of the evening.

He had discovered you asleep at your desk a few times. You’d wake up the morning after with his coat around your shoulders. He never moved you or woke you up. You looked happy. Regaining such a familiar part of your life that you clearly had missed more than you let on.

Falling asleep doing research was part of your fun, a mark of your craft. In a similar vein to athletes when drenched in sweat. Or artists covered in paint. For you, sleep lines on your cheek in the shapes of books and hands covered in chalk or ink. Dork.

Whenever he did stop in, you would tell him to be useful. Enjin was often ordered to either lift something heavy or handle high shelves for you. He pretended to avoid you like the plague, playing up the act of dodging work but he always managed to check in regularly. He always managed to let himself be caught by you. He listened when you bossed him around and had to hide how much he enjoyed watching you in your element.

More than once when Enjin relieved himself at night, images of dangly earrings accentuating a kissbitten neck, craned over some records flashed through his head. Snippets of you critiquing him played back in the dark. Clips of soft hands scribbling away at chalkboards became some of his favorite reruns past midnight.

He started more often leaning toward nerdy fantasies. Involving nerdy librarians, scholarly professors or desk papers swept off the surface in a frenzy. He waved it off as it was only natural. He was a healthy young guy and you were a stunner. There was nothing to feel weird about. It was nothing, he was certain.

You were smiling. Those small smiles people got when they were talking to someone they enjoyed talking to. You were nodding, lost in conversation, clearly agreeing with Corvus. Whatever it is you were talking about it seemed you two were eye to eye on the subject. 

Probably something sophisticated. Enjin’s jaw tightened. 

Enjin caught himself getting irritated when you spoke to Corvus about books. When he spotted you together walking down the halls, his chest got tight. He’d butt into those conversations when he could. Only then, most times, needing to mask how it peeved him that he couldn’t contribute or understand much of the conversation.

He picked up a perfectly good dictionary that was still in one piece the next time he went out. ‘It’s nothing.’ He insisted.

It fit perfectly in his pocket and it would help him keep up with your rapport. It would only become weird if he made it weird. Besides it would make for a good bit or a run on gag. He could whip it out the next time you said something professorly. It was just for a joke, just to make you laugh.

It had been some time now since meeting you. You had gotten your feet under you and you were pretty well settled into this new life in this new world. Nowhere near as impressionable as when you first started. You still found him funny and he liked to make you laugh.

At some point the bickering felt more like bantering. At some point the arguing became competitive. The constant back and forth, sometimes teasing and other times genuine, felt like a daily game of poker he got to enjoy. Eventually it reached the point where you two started tagteaming people you didn’t like together. 

It was obvious to others. That his smirks and wisecracks were not just playful. Were not just for fun alone or entirely meaningless. Others saw the smirks and teasing, yes, but they also saw everything unbeknownst to either one of you.

Semiu watched you two argue down the street. Bro caught the rain that slowly began to dot the pavement, announcing itself before openly pouring. Gris spied how mid-rebuttal, without stopping to pause his argument, Enjin held his hand up at the first drop of rain and opened Umbreaker. They noticed how he leaned Umbreaker closer to your side. How he shielded you more than himself.

Look, man. Don’t even get him started. Enjin tried so hard, and failed, to be respectful. He really, only sort of kind of, did.

Full hips and a plump ass that filled out your nerdy skirts. Kneadable plush spilling from underneath your going-out tops. A lifelong fan of rounder and curvier ladies, he thanked the powers that be for his giant oven mitts so that he could, in fact, handle all that.  Not that he was going to or anything.

Weeks rolled by and what started as occasionally cameoing in his late night fantasies evolved to star of the show every time. Humble beginnings as a guest star in his shower thoughts, now you were the leading lady. Enjin knew he was down pretty bad when he started losing interest in attention or propositions from anybody else. He had to come clean, at least to himself, that he took a liking to you. You were pretty as fuck, smarter than him and he was a weak man.

You might be covered up a lot of the time, but he could still enjoy and see everything without seeing anything. Silhouettes, imprints and ghosts of your shape pressed into your clothes. The impression of your belly button when you wore those slip skirts. The ravine that straps created on your shoulders.

Soft, heaving tits that rose and fell when you got worked up. He shamelessly enjoyed watching your chubby thighs expand when you sat down.

He managed to always find a way every assignment together to snake an arm around your waist and fly you out of harm’s way on Umbreaker. Or whenever you found yourselves in tight spaces, Enjin always passed behind you with a hand on your waist to guide your body when he needed to scooch by.

Pliant, doughy love handles rested underneath his palm. More than once Enjin had to practise self restraint to keep himself from squeezing. Practically rolled his eyes to the back of his head and groaned at himself for how fucking pathetic he was when you sat side by side and he could feel your body heat radiating onto his side.

He imagined warming his hands on you. Your thighs keeping his ears from getting cold. His hands gripping your hips from behind while his thumbs gave you your own matching pair of dimples on the curve of your ass.

He kept his little infatuation to himself, insisting that’s all it was. The last thing you needed was another hound-dog barking up your tree. Besides, a classy lady like you, wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Nevermind anymore that you were once Sphereite elite. If he was being honest with himself it really had nothing to do with that. It was more a self inflicted curse really. That’s the problem with his type, you were always too good for him. You always deserved better and you always knew it too. If you didn’t, well, you were smart so you’d always figure it out eventually.

He could be a passing fancy. A dashing, dimpled dalliance. A guilty pleasure and a curiosity. Happy to serve as a shot of excitement; to provide a taste for the rough and tumble and humble. A tall tattooed temptation but that was where the buck stopped.

He may not have been the most scholarly or cerebral of guys, but he was sharp enough to learn the hard way, as was how he learned everything. After some time around the block and his fair share of heart breaks he had to come to terms with the undeniable truth. He wasn’t his type’s cup of tea.

So he adapted. He learned to savor the chapter of teasing, flirting, and furtive glances. To bask in the moment of being the something-sweet you crave after well balanced meals. To sate himself with transient affection.

Cause that’s all it ever was. A chapter, but never the book. A moment, but never a life. A dessert, but you can’t live on sweets alone. Enjin was a fling, something casual, a sneaky link, no strings attached. He was the favorite eater on the roster. He was for rebounds. He was for making exes jealous. Enjin was for fun. He wasn’t anything serious.

He was a young man, and let’s call a spade a spade, a womanizer. His reputation was fairly earned. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy his role most of the time as an active participant in hook up culture.

However, truth be told, there were a few instances in his life when he didn’t. Only a small handful really. Particularly nowadays as he got older.

He usually minimized it to get through it. Told himself it was a bummer and kept it pushing cause, in the end, that’s all anyone really can do about it. He was not much for wallowing in sorrow or self pity. Not much for the woes-me routine either, himself. Enjin’s heartbreaks were reserved for closer friends or sharper eyes.

He’d have drinks with someone. Nothing sloppy or self destructive or loud. It was more quiet dive pubs and sitting in silence with a friend he didn’t need to say anything to because they already knew. He never denied or tried to bury it; he always let himself feel it. Enjin bled quietly.

So yeah… There were only a few, specifically with beautiful, smart, curvy women, that it really fucking sucked. But like with everything else on the ground, he made the most out of scraps.

Plump was a rarer, though not impossible, body type to find on the ground. It stood within reason that he constantly had to fight off creeps and losers. The worst part was how clueless you were to that kind of attention. For someone so fucking smart how could you be that oblivious. While you were by no means shy, it didn’t seem to compute when dudes tried flirting or shooting their shot with you.

He finally brought it up after one night at the club ended with Enjin in a pretty nasty fist fight. Sat beside him on the sidewalk, you nursed the shiner bubbling on his face with the ice from his drink.

The chill pressed against his face helped soothe the sting. The warmth pressed against his side however had the opposite of a cooling effect on him. Enjin’s entire body was alight and very aware of your side against him. The supple give of your form and how it yielded to the hard lines of his own. Where you were pressed against one another you molded to him. He was no better than a man… 

“How do you not notice the way dudes drool every time we party, dollface?”

“I guess I’m not used to that kind of attention so out in the open.” 

“Huuuh? Be so fucking for real.”

You explained that while you may have ran with all the cool kids (pfft, sure) and thrill seekers it ended within the confines of that circle. You had your fair share of secret boytoys for being one of the covert ‘fast’ girls that put out but that was about it. Empathy tugged at his heartstrings. You were a clandestine rollick under the shroud of night but in the light of day…

“On the Sphere, svelteness and being trim is desirable in women.” 

That might have set him off as much as the panting, pawing piece of shit he had to lay out flat earlier. What did you mean by the Sphere? Like the entire damn thing? Another cultural clash revealed itself.

Enjin really struggled to wrap his head around the concept of an entire population having a hivemind mentality on what’s pretty. That was such a personal, individual thing. The ground had no such discriminations for either side of the spectrum in a lady. They didn’t have a collective consensus of ‘requirements’ to begin with when it came to attraction. They all had actual problems to worry about down here. Why the fuck would they waste time inventing new, imaginary ones?

The grounder mentality was everybody was somebody’s cup of tea.

Down here people were starving, meanwhile up there people were purposefully driving young women to skimp meals. Maybe it was just the pangs of bad memories from his own upbringing, but the idea of little girls in houses full of food being scolded for looking at it made him fume.

You told him about all the other beauty requirements and he could feel his blood pressure rise. Hairlessness, no stretchmarks whatsoever, women should be shorter, which how the fuck do you control height? He couldn’t even understand what the fuck cellulite was no matter how many times you explained it.

“Full offense when I say this, but dudes on the Sphere sound like little bitches that wanna fuck plucked chickens.”

You snorted and echoed him, “Plucked chickens, I can’t!”

In your giggle fit you tried to list a few more but Enjin stopped you from sharing any other details with a raised hand. “Seriously, don’t piss me off.”

You collapsed onto his shoulder. Encouraged by making you double over, his sarcastic antics continued. You devolved into side splitting laughter. A laugh that sounded like crystals jingling, rare and earned. He smiled watching you.

Enjin knew you knew he knew. Having become thick as thieves after a while. Possibly going as far to start saying best friends at this point. You tried as hard as you could to hide those feelings but just like how he was the only one who noticed your want to get to know people, he caught this too.

He was a sweetheart about it and you appreciated how much grace he showed you. He was a decent guy–okay, a good guy. Who understood that all the more aggressive snipping in the beginning was out of fear.

You were a grown woman, with a fully developed frontal lobe and multiple degrees. So you understood that in high stress situations, after fight or flight, there were also the less spoken about reactions, freeze and fawn. Fawn was dangerous. 

Enjin became your leader when your whole life was turned inside out, not to mention he and his crew saved your life. Hardly the foundation for anything healthy. You were clear enough of mind to understand that you were at your most vulnerable and if the wrong person entered your life with ill intentions, they would be able to do some serious damage.

So you chose to fight to give yourself space and tried your hardest to grow past those feelings. Time went on and then with clarity and objectivity acquired you knew with concrete certainty. You did fall first but that you had been in no way the right place to do anything about it.

Over time you righted yourself up again. Sowed yourself into this new world and took root. Got to know others in the landscape. And yet... Over time, it didn’t go away, only strengthened. Over time you got to know him, you grew closer, you bonded, you trusted him. You learned and saw for yourself, Enjin was someone worth falling for.

Weeks had gone by and he let himself indulge. Slowly he let the bantering evolve by adding in some open teasing regularly now. Some platonic flirting wouldn’t hurt, right? 

Eventually the flirting became just as second place as the arguing. What began as abrasive, two forces at odds, settled into familiarity and playfulness. You drove each other insane regularly but somewhere along the way comfort took root. Two forces that found a sort of kinship in one another. Someone that did not balk away but embraced and delighted in the rapport and verbal sparring.

You could be bold with him. Then you saw you could be loud and mean and snarky. There were moments when you were scared that you had taken it too far. That was too snippy, too bitchy, too nasty. 

Your eyes went wide, apology at the ready, prepared to spiral for weeks and kick yourself for letting yourself slip like that.

Enjin would grin and exhale his cigarette smoke through his nose. An evil, playful glint in his golden eyes harbingered the promise of oncoming rascality. He looked entirely too much like a dragon tantalized by the morsel before him.

“Oh yeah, Your Highness?” He’d croon.

The lump in your throat went down. Nerves melted away only to ignite into electric charge. You were in danger, and you really, really liked it. More than once you caught yourself, eyes lingering, a pleasant feeling blossoming when he was near. Enjoyed in silence, enjoyed in loudness, it was nice to be known. No one knew you like he did. 

Call him crazy but he could catch the interest was still present. Although now it would be more along the lines of reciprocated chemistry. Half lidded, siren eyes that watched him move.

You stood together, deep in conversation, having drifted well within each other's personal space. Almost ritualistic nowadays, drawn in by the other’s gravitational pull without realizing until you had already been hovering in the other’s orbit.

You were smiling. Those small smiles people got when they’re talking to someone they enjoyed talking with.

Mid-conversation he pulled out a smoke and held it between his lips, speaking from the corner of his mouth. The tension of the act naturally hollowed out his dimples and brought them out in full view. His large hands dug into his pockets before patting down his person, hunting for his lighter. You hung on his every word, transfixed on his wandering hands that came up empty.

Enjin stopped talking when you pulled out the spare lighter you apparently started carrying around. You held it there lit between you.

He grinned. “Thanks, mama.”

He could have just plucked the cigarette from his mouth and held it to the flame but where would the fun in that be?

He slid his hand over yours so you both held the lighter together steady. His hand engulfed yours, cupping and shielding the flame from the breeze. Tilting his head down some, he brought your hand up to his mouth and lit his cigarette. Eyes on you, he winked. When smoke curled from his nose, he closed your hand and snapped your lighter shut.

Your throat bobbed. Cute.

He’d noticed for a minute now the way your eyes followed his hands when he smoked. He tried his best to smoke at least one cigarette around you now constantly. He’d noticed the way your breath hitched when he started sprinkling more intimate pet names. The kind that guys on the ground used with their significant others. They were now seamlessly added to his roster of superlatives for you. 

His smile was annoying. Smug and charming might just be the most insufferable combination in the world. He easily had the biggest hands you had ever seen, accentuated by tattooed rings and painted nails. His pierced ears, tattoos, undercut and, hell, even the buttons he decorated his coat with made him look rugged and wild. You may have been the bad girl back home, but standing next to Enjin revealed that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of punk or cool. But it was more than that, you liked how much pride he took in his appearance, how expressive it all was. The worst of his transgressions though were easily those damn dimples.

He listened intently when you spoke but when he caught you staring while he smoked, he’d smile wolfishly. His dimples, emerging between blinks, then dotted his face and caused you to stumble over your words more than once.

When he wasn’t talking, a rarity, you could nab a glimpse of them. They caught you off guard when you first noticed them. Little soft divots, served as punctuation marks, framing his smiles and expressions. They added a boyish charm back to him. 

On hot days or when he was working out, he began the habit of wiping sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. He leaned against doorframes when you two talked at HQ. When he stretched around you he’d let his shirt ride up so you could catch a glimpse of the waistband of his boxers or his happy trail.

Enjin was such… a man. Guys on the Sphere were never… like this. As a matter of fact, Enjin made all your Sphererite exes feel like boys. It was a daily occurrence to be captivated by his broad shoulders and dark tattoos, taunting you from underneath his clothes. When he caught you angling to see more of his ink, he began wearing shorter sleeves or rolled up his longer ones casually midconversation to tease you.

‘Is this what female birds feel like?’ You caught yourself thinking once.

It had slammed him like a truck when he saw it wasn’t just creeps and losers barking up your tree. A few of the friends you made signed up as volunteer assistants every once in a while to help with shelving and cataloging. They also loved their share of gossip.

It wiped the smirk off his face when your friends were not so subtly giggling, gossiping and eavesdropping about a scene in the stacks. He approached ready to make a lame joke about working hard or hardly working when they shushed him. Warned him not to disrupt or get them caught, completely oblivious that everyone could hear them. When he peeked around to see what they were on about, his stomach dropped.

Enjin saw pleasant, smiling, friendly conversation between yourself and Gris. You were talking through a gap in the shelf. Having moved some heavy books aside while shelving and there was Gris browsing on the other side. You had been chatting like that for twenty minutes according to your friends.

Gris wasn’t a creep or a loser. He was a good guy. Clean, responsible, handsome and in the same age range as you and Enjin. Enjin’s jaw ticked. It was hard to explain, it wasn’t jealousy or anger that filled him. More of a sourness or bitterness that made him turn away, tired of that story they were whispering about. Gris was a good man, the kind that was always something serious. 

Soon after, farewells were finally exchanged between you. You returned to work and slid down the aisle. Spotted your nosy friends and shooed them to get back to work. They scattered. He watched you, unnoticed yet through the shelf. How you mumbled categories to yourself, leaning on your rolling ladder. 

Until you abruptly slid some books aside right by Enjin’s head. You were startled for half a second before smiling at him through the gap.

“Hello, Enjin.”

“Milady, come here often?” He winked.

“Pfft,” You rolled your eyes. 

Enjin laid on the charm thick as you talked. You didn’t blush or get nervous anymore when he flirted or teased you. The grown woman's self confidence had returned to you. Now you rolled your eyes, played hard to get and were flippant with him. It all sounded suspiciously like saying, ‘eat your heart out.’ Now you smirked when he flirted with you platonically, that sounded suspiciously like, ‘do something about it.’

You stayed like that, talking through the opening between the shelves, for an hour. 

After some time of this long, elaborate mating dance he let himself indulge in a few more hypotheticals. He wondered if maybe down the hall at night you thought about him too. Maybe at the same time he thought of you?

When he took himself in his hand and worked himself up, did you hitch your breath while you flipped the page of your book. Any one of those smutty stories you had on your shelves; alphabetized, annotated and highlighted to hell and back. Fuck, you were cute.

Would it be possible that maybe the dorky rakes wearing poet shirts from your books began having blonde hair and tattoos? Did you always have a thing for troublemakers and badboys? Did your books begin starring rogues with large, rough hands and dimples? 

Did your own hand disappear beneath your blanket? Did you think of fingers with tattooed rings in their place that disappeared inside you? Did you have to bite your lip to keep quiet like he did? 

You confided in him once. One quiet evening spent in, while he taught you how to cheat at poker. Told him how none of your boytoys satisfied you like you did. What a complete waste that was.

Music up there was so bland until you came to the ground. Did those rakes maybe start to feel boring once you saw real troublemakers? When you finally let yourself stop being shy in the privacy of your own room, did you let yourself indulge like him?

Let yourself think of tall blondes that could finally rail you like you always wanted. Like you deserved. Blushed at fantasizing about being squeezed, bruised and tossed around. Let yourself entertain the notion of finally meeting a man that could make you cum like all the heroines in your stories seemed to always be able to find. Maybe even let yourself ask what if you finally already met him? Let yourself picture Enjin being that man for you.

Enjin could be that for you. He could be the lead in your story that treated you right. He could be the man whose name you cried out. That pounded you into the mattress and caressed you afterwards. That would never let you go unsatisfied again.

Enjin let himself hope. He could be your man and that, maybe, you hoped for that too. Fuck!