#desperate is such an interesting word choice..........yeah...

The lecture hall empties out slowly, people chatting as they pack up laptops and shove notebooks into bags. You linger near your seat longer than usual, pretending to organise your stuff while you watch Satoru from the corner of your eye.

He’s still at the front table, leaning back in his chair like he owns the place, scrolling on his phone. A couple of people stop to ask him quick questions about the assignment that just got handed back; he answers without looking up, casual and confident, like it’s nothing. Of course it’s nothing to him.

Your stomach twists. You rehearse the words in your head for the tenth time: Hey, Satoru, do you still tutor? I kind of need help with bio. Simple. Direct. Not desperate.

Emi’s already gone—she had another class across campus—so there’s no buffer, no excuse to drag her into this. It’s just you.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and force your feet to move. By the time you reach the front, the last stragglers have left. It’s just him now. He glances up when your shadow falls across the table. Blue eyes, sharp and perceptive behind thin frames, and that half-smirk that’s basically his default expression.

“Yo,” he says, pocketing his phone. “You’re… uh.. that girl who sits next to that Emi chick, right?” You nod, trying to keep your face neutral. Of course the only indication of your existence to him is because of your roommate.

 “Yeah. We sit together.”

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to place you better. “You were also in my group last week. The project.”

Oh. He should’ve started with that first. This guy seems like a total weirdo.

“That’s me.”

He waits, eyebrow raised, like he’s expecting you to say whatever you came to say. You shift your weight. “I heard you tutor bio.” A slow grin spreads across his face. Not surprised, more like amused. “I do. Word gets around.” You exhale through your nose. “I’m struggling. Like, really struggling. The diagrams, the cycles, all of it. I’m a humanities major and this class is killing me.”

He leans forward a little, elbows on the table. “So you want my help.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, delivered with just enough smugness to make you want to turn around and walk away. But you don’t.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

He studies you for a second, like he’s weighing something. “Cool. I charge two hundred an hour.” 

Your brain short-circuits. “Two hundred?”

“Cash up front, or Venmo. Your choice.”

You stare at him. “I work part-time at the campus bookstore. I make, like, minimum wage.” He shrugs, already reaching for his bag like the conversation’s over. “Then maybe stick to the textbook.” Panic flickers in your chest. You can’t afford that. You literally can’t. But you also can’t fail this class.

“Wait,” you say quickly. He pauses, looking back at you with mild interest. “Isn’t there… some kind of deal or something? Like some sort of discount because we attend the same university, anything of that sort?.”

His grin returns, sharper this time. “Discounts are for people who don’t wait until week six to ask.”

You grit your teeth. “Okay, fine. What would it take for a discount?” He leans back again, tapping his fingers on the table. His gaze flicks over you, thoughtful. “You’re close with Emi, right?” he asks. The shift in topic throws you. 

“Yeah. She’s my roommate.”

He nods slowly. “I’ve been trying to talk to her more. She’s cool. Hard to pin down, though.”

You blink. “Okay…”

He looks you dead in the eye. “Here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you for free. No charge.”

You wait for the catch. It comes immediately.

“If you help me get closer to Emi.”

You stare at him, eyebrows shooting up before you can stop them.

This guy can’t be for real. He’s sitting there like he just offered to split a pizza, not like he’s casually asking you to pimp out your roommate in exchange for study help. Who even thinks like this? Who says it out loud? You're just thanking whatever higher power there is that Emi's class is across the other side of campus and you didn't end up trying to drag her here with you.

“You’re serious,” you say, the words coming out drier than you meant.

“Dead serious,” he says, leaning back with that same lazy confidence. “You’re her roommate. You’ve got the inside track. I just need a little assist.”

“An assist,” you repeat, flat. “You want me to wingman for you. With my friend.”

He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Yeah. Put in a good word here and there. Tell me what she’s into. Maybe mention I’m not a complete asshole. Basic stuff.”

You blink once, twice, waiting for the punchline. It doesn’t come. He just looks at you, patient, amused, waiting for you to catch up.

Jesus Christ. He’s actually serious. 

authors note: well first of all, HELLO! happy 2026!!!!! i'm starting the new year off with some nerd gojo again (per popular demand) :3 anyways this fic is based off a request in my inbox (shoutout to you anon for blessing me with such an awesome idea). anyways i love you all and wow ive severely missed writing hahahahahasghds

alsoooo i lowkenuinely am taking an online summer subject so im already quite busy, AND i am going overseas on the 18th of january and to no ones surprise tumblr is BANNED there bro.. so anyhow, i'll be working on this fic at a snails pace. or not. i lowkey stress write my fics as a reprieve from work and school, so i genuinely can't predict when it'll come out but trust me it'll be so awesome sauce when the full thing is out ^_^ ok enough yap

it was your first night off after working ten shifts in a row, so you'd decided that you could finally schedule a date with that cute guy you'd met on tinder. you got yourself ready, styling your hair and putting on your favorite outfit that you hadn't been able to wear in a while. you did one last glance over in the mirror before heading out the door.

you unlock your car and step inside, suddenly feeling a bit jittery at the thought of finally getting yourself back out there. your coworkers back at ptmc all knew where you were headed on your night off, all of them teasing you about it while simultaneously being supportive. all except one, but he'd made damn sure that he wasn't making it obvious.

your attending, dr. jack abbot, who had gotten uncharacteristically quiet whenever anyone would bring up your upcoming date. to anyone else, it would have gone unnoticed. but you were too observant, detecting a shift in the energy within the department almost instantly. abbot knew you were like that too, so maybe he was hoping that you'd eventually notice. he would never admit it out loud, feeling ashamed of himself, that he really wanted your date to go poorly tonight.

meanwhile, back at your date, you have never felt more embarrassed in your life. this man, whom you thought was going to be easygoing and fun, was going on yet another tangent about himself and what he does for work. you were interested at the beginning, but that quickly disappeared when you realized he wasn't interested in learning anything about you in return.

next thing you know, he's rambling on about what he thinks women should really be doing instead of working. saying that same stupid shit about women are meant to be the homemakers and stay at home moms. it was like he was saying every wrong thing you could've imagined, and you'd finally had enough. you excuse yourself to the bathroom, muttering some lame excuse about a weak bladder. as soon as you're safely locked in a stall, you fish out your phone.

you were trying to think of who would even be available at this hour, since you knew most of your coworkers were mid-shift right now. that's when it dawned on you, your attending also had the night off. you let out a heavy sigh, knowing you had no other choice as you click on his contact and hit the call button. it rings twice before the other line is picked up.

"this can't mean anything good."

abbot's gruff voice comes over the line, unable to hide the chuckle in his voice. seems like his wishes came true, and he knew he'd have to make the most of it.

"i'm really sorry to be asking this, dr. abbot. but i actually don't think i can stay in this place any longer."

"it's jack, you know that. but yeah, just tell me where you are. i'll come get ya."

you tell him the address of the place, he tells you to stay in the bathroom until further notice. you let out the heaviest sigh of relief, your body finally able to relax now that you know help is on the way.

"stay on the line with me, okay? just ten minutes out."

you mutter a short 'okay' and slump against the door of the stall, feeling overwhelmed once again.

"hey, stay with me. what's going on?"

"i don't know- i should have never come here... it was stupid. i should have known better and-"

"breathe... you're gonna be out of there soon."

you nod, resting your head back against the cold metal door. you were grateful to have someone on the line that wouldn't let you spiral anymore than you already had. you just sit there, letting the sounds of jack's driving over the line soothe you. before long, he speaks up again.

"i'm outside- don't leave the bathroom until i get in."

you stand up, grabbing your purse and waiting by the bathroom door to leave. it's not until you hear the end call noise and a knock on the door that you almost feel like crying from relief. you open the door, and you're met with the concerned look of your attending.

"you hurt or anything?"

"not physically..."

you shrug and walk out the restaurant with him. you tried to ignore the way his hand ghosted your lower back as the two of you walked out. you quickly glanced over at your date, who was none the wiser, and already scrolling through tinder again on his phone. you quietly scoff as you finally step into the cool, night air.

"that was your date?"

jack looks at you incredulously. you roll your eyes and run your hands over your bare arms. jack notices and walks you over to your car, opening the door for you and everything.

"hey, um- i really don't want to bother you again, but-"

"yeah, i'll follow you home. no problem."

he nods, already limping over to his car and getting in. you start your own car and make your way back toward your place, feeling comforted by the bright headlights in your rearview. you finally make it your place, but no sooner than you park the car, do the floodgates open. tears are pouring from your eyes as you choke back sob after sob, face resting in your hands.

jack notices how you don't get out of your car right away, so he makes his way over to you. when he sees the way you're practically shaking with every sob, he opens the door. he doesn't say anything, but he does reach over and unbuckle your seatbelt. he pulls you to rest against him, running a hand over your hair.

"come on, let's get you inside."

he spoke calmly, gently grabbing your hands and helping you out of the car. he walks you inside, letting you unlock the door before following you in. he walks you over to your soft couch and allows you to sit. he stands there, awkwardly shifting and trying to ignore the ache of his prosthesis. he stands there until you can catch your breath and the tears begin to subside.

"just... call again, if you need anything."

you frown, watching him turn around and head back towards your front door.

"jack..."

your voice is quiet and broken, but it makes him pause.

"please don't leave. i r-really don't want to be alone."

his resolve softens, turning back around to face you. he sees the vulnerable look in your eyes, like you just want to be held and comforted. he couldn't just leave you there, could he? not show you how a real man is supposed to treat you and cherish you? he lets out a quiet sigh, locking your front door before joining you on the couch.

you lean against him, and his arm is wrapped around your shoulder. you're curling in on yourself, tucking your knees up to your chest. he suddenly feels a bit guilty for wishing your date wouldn't go well, not realizing it would have affected you quite so strongly. he lets out a soft groan as he removes his prosthetic leg and rests back against the couch cushions.

"how bad was it?"

he turns to look at you, waiting for an explanation.

"i'm just- so embarrassed that i even went out with a guy like that. let him talk to me that way- like i was nothing."

"what did he say?"

his voice was low, carrying a hint of danger with it.

"whatever disrespectful thing you can think of... he probably said it."

if it weren't for the overwhelming need to take care of you in this moment, jack would be finding a really good excuse to exercise some his military combat training. he just pulls you closer, rubbing his hand up and down your upper arm.

"as long as you don't take any of his bullshit to heart."

"what if he was-"

"no."

the single word was sharp and clear cut as jack sat up straight. he held your chin firmly in his hand.

"you do not get to say that about yourself. not when you're one of the most amazing, capable, beautiful women i have ever met."

your jaw goes slack at his words, but not for long when your lips tilt up in a smirk instead.

"are you trying to romance me, dr. abbot?"

"why do i bother..."

he rolls his eyes at your teasing, causing you to pout when his hand falls from your chin. he quickly makes up for it when that same hand comes to rest on your cheek as he pulls your lips to his. you were surprised, but melt into his embrace as your lips move against his. before long, he's helping you straddle his lap. his hands grip at your hips as you deepen the kiss, allowing your tongues to tangle with one another.

you sigh against his lips, allowing him to help you out of your clothes until you're in nothing but your bra and panties above him. he takes a second to let his eyes roam over your body. the one he could only daydream about as he fisted his leaking cock in his car after a long shift. if you only knew how much he thought about you when you weren't around. how often he longed to have your soft, warm body in his arms.

he always reassured himself that he wasn't that perverted when he got off to you, because he had pure thoughts about you, too. wanting to know what it felt like to get ready together for a shift, maybe even spend a couple hours in the on call room together just talking about random things. normally, he'd tell himself that it would never happen. but now, that he's got you right here with him, the future looks bright.

you chuckle at him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"you know, usually you do the daydreaming when i'm not around. not when i'm right here on top of you."

he can't even hold back the chuckle as you catch him red-handed. you were witty, and that was something that made his cock strain tighter against his pants. he has definitely never thought about you getting smart with him while he's deep inside you. especially not to the point where he has to smack your ass to get you be quiet... never ever thought about that before. ever.

"you're doing it again, jack."

he shakes his head, glancing back up at you. he lifts his own shirt over his head, smirking himself as he watches you drool over his softened muscles.

"now who's daydreaming?"

he's wearing a smug grin, one that had your panties growing more damp by the second. he frowns as he watches you climb off his lap, walking off somewhere else in the house.

"need i remind you, doc. blue balls are a serious medical condition for old guys like me."

he hears your genuine laugh echo down the hallway, it sounded like you were getting into a closet of some sort. it warms his chest, but not as much as what you were about to do next would. you appear from the hallway, with... crutches... in your hands. you wordlessly hand them to him.

"bed's a lot more comfy. i think it's more practical to help with your um- serious medical condition."

you smirk down at him. he can't even fathom a response as he takes the crutches, looking down and seeing that they're already adjusted to his height. he lifts himself onto them, looking at you for a long moment.

"anyone else would find this really creepy."

you playfully swat at his shoulder.

"these have been here for years, asshole. i didn't buy them for you."

he smirks, following you to the bedroom.

"damn, here i was thinking you'd been waiting a long time to get this geezer in your bed."

"i never said i hadn't been..."

he pauses at your words, looking at you once again.

"then stop going on dates with useless tools and flirt with me some more at the nurse's station next time."

you don't even wait, as soon as he's sat down on the bed, you're climbing on top of him.

"fuck, you're pretty when you're eager, baby."

he smirks up at you, hands finding their place on your hips again. you lean down, kissing him passionately as you start to roll your hips against him. he groans softly into your mouth, pulling you closer until your chests were flush together. one of his hands slides between you and begins to rub at your covered clit. you whine against him, hips bucking slightly against his hand.

"this wet for me, pretty girl?"

you nod bashfully, resting your forehead against his. it was almost embarrassing how close you already were to cumming just from his hand. he could tell, watching the way your body was taut with effort.

"'s alright... you can cum for me."

"but jack-"

"we've got all night and all day tomorrow. i'll be right here with you, baby."

you feel like melting in his arms when you realize that he wanted to stay. spend more time with you outside of sex. fuck, he was right. you really did need to flirt with him more at the nurse's station. with that, you let yourself feel again and jack renews his efforts, rubbing your sensitive clit.

"just do me one favor..."

he pants against you, reaching for your hand. you nod and let him continue.

"help me out and stroke my cock for me?"

how did he make such lewd words sound so casual sometimes? it was beyond you... regardless, you nod and let your hand drift down beneath his boxers. as you start to stroke his thick, leaking cock, you can feel him twitching slightly beneath you. he lets out a low moan, rolling his hips up against your hand.

"oh fuck-"

you whine, feeling yourself getting closer and closer as his fingers don't slow in the slightest.

"i'm with you, baby. cum with me."

he spoke against the shell of your ear, pressing a soft kiss to it. you both cum with shaky breaths and mingled moans. you collapse on top of him and he pulls you close. he leans in, kissing you softly as he runs his hand over your hair.

"thank you for staying."

you mumbled against his lips, running your hand over his muscular back.

"don't thank me. i've been waiting for this, too."

he spoke gently, pressing another kiss to your forehead as he pulls you even closer.

"anyone else would find that really creepy."

you both chuckle as you repeat his own words back to him. eventually, the two of you get cleaned up and go back to cuddling on the couch. as promised, you did really have the rest of the night and all morning with him. what you two did during that time was only your stories to tell.

a/n: SORRY IF THIS WASN'T SMUTTY ENOUGH BUT I REALLY NEEDED THIS FLUFFY MOMENT!! also, i did write like the last quarter of this on my phone, so it might look weird or have a lot of typos. but i really wanted to get the ball rolling for my writing challenge :3 THANK YOU FOR READING, HUGS AND KISSES MWAH <333

"Fuck, babygirl," Joel grunted, his hand firmly squeezing your tit that bounced so wonderfully with each of his thrusts.

"Mhm – hm," was all you could mumble in response as his palm was still covering your mouth; a little less firmly now but with the same effect: to keep you silent. Not quiet, not calm, but silent.

You had intensely found out about the nuances earlier when Joel had brutally inserted his fingers into your mouth, nearly making you gag on his digits just so that you would stop talking. Not even whispering was appropriate in his mind. Just bleak, boring silence.

"Yeah, you little slut," Joel growled, the hand on your chest travelling up to wrap around your neck instead. Gosh, you wanted to cry out at how good everything felt, but you assumed that wasn't in Joel's interest either.

"You're so desperate, so pathetic and dumb, babygirl. Fuckin' useless."

Pain shot through your veins a moment before you realized what it had caused. Yes, his hand had returned to your breast as if he hadn't found your throat quite as attracting as he had assumed he would and was now pinching your nipple between two fingers.

"Look at you. Lying on your side and moanin' for me like a fuckin' bitch in heat. S'pathetic."

He slapped your tit forcefully, giving you no choice but to jolt in his grasp, thighs trembling. Even if you had wanted to stop yourself from reacting to him, you wouldn't have been able to change it.

"D-Daddy," you managed to breathe against his palm, feeling relatively proud to get the words out so clearly.

"Daddy?" Joel repeated, laughing, though you couldn't figure out whether he was laughing at you or with you.

"Yeah, you need your daddy. Not your dad, he's down there thinkin' I'm here to give his sweet little princess some tutoring. What does it feel like, mhm? What does it feel like to be a greedy whore getting railed by a man twice 'er age? Does it make you feel dirty?"

There was no way you could reply with Joel's hand applying steady pressure on your mouth and pulling you back so that your head was pressed against his shoulder. You were glad about it, though, because each time after he said something you could keep the words inside your brain for two seconds, maybe three, before they disappeared and all that was left of your brain was an empty dark void.

"Tell me what you are, sweetheart."

His grip around your mouth loosened, making space for air to flood your lungs and for you to speak up.

"I – I'm yours, daddy," you whimpered, eyes rolling in the back of your head as he buried himself all the way inside you, so deeply that his tip nudged against your cervix. And it didn't feel like he attempted to move any time soon.

Joel laughed at your words, shamelessly running his hand from your lower belly up to your breasts. He hadn't even taken the time to properly undress you, claiming that he only had half an hour to fuck you before you two had to go downstairs again and ensure that your father didn't have any suspicions.

"Yeah you are, babydoll. But that ain't what I wanted to hear. You're a 'lil slut. Say it."

"I'm a – a slut, daddy."

As if to reward you for finally using your voice, Joel stroked your hair to the side, kissing your bare neck.

"Good girl… And now you're gonna be a good girl and take daddy's cum. You know you shouldn't, right?"

His cock suddenly drove out of you at a rapid pace only for Joel to slam it back inside with so much force, you whined, causing him to move his palm over your mouth once more.

"Don't get all dumb on me now, sweetheart. You stay with me. You know I'm here 'cause I'm supposed to tutor you… If I already don't do that, I at least shouldn't make you even dumber…"

You moaned gently, reaching behind you to grab his thigh.

"Even though that's not true… I teach you how to be a good girl. How to please your daddy. Now tell me. You think it's a good idea for me to cum inside your slutty tight hole?"

For a split second, you weren't sure what he wanted to hear from you, which was why you tried to turn your head and catch a glimpse of his expression. Of course, Joel didn't allow that.

"Tell me, babygirl. What do you think your dad would say, mhm?"

His palm hovered inches above your mouth, ready to clamp down if another one of those squeals would escape your throat.

"Not good," you pressed.

"Yeah, that's right. Your dad would be really mad if he knew that his best friend's fillin' his little girl up with his cum… That I'm about to get ya all swollen and sticky with it. But you want it still, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, daddy, please," you frantically nodded with your head, eyes wide and blown with so much pleasure, you felt like you were about to pass out.

"And that makes you a slut, babygirl. You should know better than that. I should punish you for being so fuckin' irresponsible by not giving it to you at all…"

"N-No," it shot out of you at once, your little hands pawing at his thighs as if it would have any effect on what was going to happen of this evening.

"Please. Please, daddy. I want it inside, please."

You weren't sure whether Joel was poking fun at you and you were an idiot for believing that he might actually deny you the enjoyment of him imbuing you with his cum, but you didn't want to risk it.

Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, Joel pulled out of you, making your heart cramp with fear for a heartbeat. Had he actually stopped right now when it felt so good, your eyes welled with tears? Was he going to leave you just to make you even more addicted to the way he fucked you, to how thick and heavy his cock felt when he slided it in and out of you, slow at times and other times so forcefully, Joel's hands had to keep you pressed against him because you would have been pushed away from him otherwise?

No, fortunately none of that happened. Joel just manhandled you on your back, spreading your legs so widely, you knew you should feel embarrassed. You did, to some extent.

He was right after all, you being on such perfect display for a man twice your age, a man your father trusted was wrong on so many levels. Your father wasn't the strictest parent, but he was when it came to meeting boys. Well, he didn't know that the boys your age that you met in college weren't really where the danger came from.

But how was he supposed to guess that the real threat was his best friend of ten years, a man who was handsome enough to assume that he was well-liked among the ladies but old enough for your dad to believe that there was no reason for you to see anything other than a fatherly person in him.

"You look so fuckin' pretty like that, princess. So hungry for me… God, I wish I could just fill ya up with my cum all day 'n' night. Your 'lil pussy, your mouth, that pretty ass… Until you're drunk on me, just beggin' me to keep it inside ya all the time."

He worked his cock back inside you, precisely observing your features to see how they drew with pleasure the more of you he filled with his large manhood.

"Daddy," you weakly whispered, wanting to reach for his chest, but Joel roughly pinned your hands above your head, grinning when he was fully sheathed inside you.

"Do you like that? Do you like bein' my fuck toy? Do you like it when I talk to you that way?"

His pelvis was pressed against your core, your breathing rapid and uneven while Joel gripped your chin tightly.

"Yes. Yes, daddy."

"Jesus… so fuckin' tight. No matter how many times I drag you up 'ere, railing your 'lil cunt, you still grip me like a vice." Joel leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning over your lips. "You do that on purpose, don't ya? You're clenchin' down so hard on me so that I come back to you. So that I bring you up 'ere and fuck your brains out again."

To emphasize his words, he thrust in deeper, even though there was physically no more room to seize. Still, the faint gesture made your jaw clench, your lips unable to hold back a whimper.

"S'too much, d-daddy. Fuck, I – too much."

"No, sweetheart…" Joel chuckled, gliding his fingers past your lips. "S'never enough with daddy. You can take it. You can take it all 'cause it comes from me…"

"You're so – deep, daddy. You're – " You didn't end the sentence, the words stolen from you by the way his hips rolled into yours.

"I'm what? You wanna use your words or you're just gonna lay here like a dumb doll, looking up at me all doe-eyed."

It was true, your expression emitted a mixture of gratitude and startlement, nothing more. You didn't even react to his mockery and just silently allowed the tears gathering on your waterline to fall.

"Ohh, baby… My 'lil slut's gonna cry for me? What did I do to deserve that?"

His grasp around your face turned more tender, his fingers tilting your head as though to assess the state of your skin. Or to show you the kind of power he yielded over you. You weren't sure.

"Let 'em fall, babygirl. Let it all out. Daddy likes to see you fall apart. How beautiful you react to me."

You sniffled and blinked a few times, which caused him to crudely squeeze your breast.

"I said let 'em fall. You're not gonna hide anythin' from me, baby. I own all of you, not just the smiles and laughter."

But the moment you stopped trying to blink the tears away so that they were streaming down your face instead, Joel gathered some spit in his mouth and trickled it onto your cheeks where it created a slippery mess together with your body fluids.

"Daddy," you whined, your hands wriggling under his grasp.

"No. You stop it or I'm gonna tie ya down. You look pretty like that, you know? You look like you belong to me. And you look fuckin' pathetic."

It had taken you a while to understand that his insults didn't actually mean that he despised you and hated to spend time with you, but carried his appreciation in some twisted way. Sure, you did feel small and insignificant when he called you such things, but in addition to the arousal and pleasure you felt shooting through your system, you also knew that Joel liked seeing you like that. That calling you pathetic didn't mean that he resented you at that moment but was proud of turning you into a mess.

"I need – " you started, eyes hectically scurrying over his hand which was wandering from your breasts down to your stomach, then up to your throat.

"You need what?"

"My clit, daddy… Please."

"What about it?" he cruelly smirked, applying light pressure on your airways.

"Please. Need you to – to touch it, daddy."

"Oh yeah?" he snickered sharply, a rush of excitement going through your body at the way he choked you.

"I don't care. I don't think you deserve to cum today. After flashin' me your fuckin' panties the second we step inside your room. Bendin' over to pick up a pen… You got any pride left in you? Or have I fucked it all out of you?"

"Please, daddy," you immediately whimpered, levitating above the edge of thinking that he might actually do such cruelty to you and trusting that he let you cum almost every single time.

"Besides…" he continued like he didn't hear you. "I need you to stay quiet. And I know how you get when you orgasm. You're gonna whimper and squirm… And I need to keep you under my control if I wanna stay friends with your dad. If I want an excuse to come to his house every weekend and fuck that tight cunt o'yours."

Although you always enjoyed hearing him express his joy at getting to have you every weekend, the beginning of his monologue made you anxious.

"I will. I will be quiet, I'll be good, I promise. I won't say a thing."

"Shut up," Joel belted, delivering a sharp thrust into your pussy that made your toes curl. "Shut up or I'm gonna fuck your pussy so hard, you won't be able to say anythin'. Maybe I should just fuck you 'til you pass out and then have my way with you… Goddamnit. You just can't stop talkin', can ya? You should be glad I even touch that filthy, slutty cunt."

You would have liked to tell him that your pussy couldn't be so slutty considering you had only slept with one man before Joel had touched you for the first time, but you figured that it wasn't the right time for that. So you remained silent, lips hanging open like a greedy dog waiting for a treat. And it came. With Joel spitting into it once more, this time aiming for your tongue.

"Swallow it. Swallow it like it's my cum."

The image seemed to give the older man a few more ideas since he traced the curve of your lip with his thumb.

"Maybe I should bring a toy with me next time… S'gonna go right into your mouth while I fuck you so I don't have to listen to your complaints. You're just a mouthy, greedy whore, aren't you? But don't worry, daddy's gonna turn you into a good girl. A tame 'lil pet for me. You'll still be a whore but just for me alone. How does that sound, mhm?"

Your body felt electrified at his obscene words, lower lip trembling as all you could do was nod and pray that perhaps his talking would be enough to send you over the edge.

Of course, it wasn't. Three minutes after Joel had picked up his pace a little, one hand at your throat, the other gripping both your wrists, his breathing became even more ragged, indicating that he was close whereas you felt that you still had a long way to go.

"Oh fuck, baby… What a good thing your father trusts me to be alone with his 'lil girl. He's really protective of his princess, did you know that? But he knows his best friend won't do anything bad with you up 'ere… S'what makes it so easy. Too fuckin' easy."

His hand on your neck loosened to give you a moment to breathe and talk to him. Instead, he used it to grope your breasts, circling your nipples and trailing along the swell of your tits almost reverently.

"Joel… it's so – much, I – I don't know if I – " You were short of breath and that was despite his hand freeing your neck. He felt a hint of pity flaring in his abdomen, thinking how all of this was just too much for your little brain. But what weighed much stronger was his desire to break you even more until you were a sore, obedient muddle trapped underneath him.

"You can. You can take it, babygirl. Just gotta have a bit more patience. Now keep your voice down or m'gonna make ya gag on my fingers until you got far worse problems that my cock inside your cunt."

At least Joel left your neck alone now, perhaps figuring that in spite of all his dirty talk, he didn't actually want you to pass out on him. Which might happen if he pushed you further like that, bruising up your poor pussy and simultaneously causing your lungs to miss that much-needed fresh air.

"Ah fuck, sweetheart… Yeah, open your mouth like that. Show me that you're a greedy whore. Show me, baby."

His teeth ground as if he were angry with you. His eyes flashed so darkly, you couldn't make out his pupils, but you assumed that they were dilated and coated with pleasure. Joel railed you so rapidly now, instead of the rhyhmic, steady wet smacks you only perceived one constant noise that was created by his skin slapping against yours and his cock breaking through the slick mess inside your pussy.

"Joel," you suddenly breathed, large eyes settling on the crease between his brows. "He-He's gonna hear. We gotta – "

With a low, gruff groan Joel suddenly flipped you onto your stomach and slid his dick back inside you, doing all of it so casually and effortlessly, it seemed like it hadn't cost him any effort at all.

"If you don't want 'im to hear ya, you better stay silent. Can you do that, or you need me to spell it out for your dumb 'lil brain?"

His whole weight laid upon you now, forceful pounds pushing you deeper into the mattress which sighed and creaked under his movement.

"Joel… Joel, you – it's so deep, fuck."

"S'not my name right now, is it?" he pressed between his teeth, wrapping an arm around your hips to lift you slightly and prevent you from making any motion at all. He wanted you still and lifeless, doing nothing at all apart from keeping your legs open, producing your sweet juices for him and occasionally shredding one or two tears for him. Was that too much to ask for?

"Daddy," you corrected yourself, forming a fist around the bedsheets.

"That's right. Now cry for your daddy. For a man twice your age who lived a whole life before you were born, kitten. Show me how good it is. How deep I am, babygirl. Show me."

He fucked you so intensely, you couldn't even precisely pinpoint when he burst inside your tight walls. All you knew was that at some point, his pounds were starting to slow down the slightest, though he still paid attention to nudge your cervix with every snap of his hips. No, in fact, it seemed like Joel wanted even more than just to kiss that part of you and searched for something far away, more sacred than just your internals. At least that was what you believed when he pumped you full of his cum, each thrust deeper than the previous one.

"Fucking hell…" Joel rumbled, snatching the back of your nape and pressing you deeper into the pillow with the entire force of his body. "You're such a 'lil cumslut for your daddy. Takin' it all, all the fuckin' time… You just give me those doe eyes and I ain't got no choice but to pump you full of it. Gonna fuck a baby in you one day, I swear to god. Your tight pussy would take it gladly, wouldn't it, mhm?"

Inaudible whimpering soared through the air, your head heaving as you wanted to sit up, but Joel wasn't done with you yet.

"You did well for me, babygirl. You obey well… So I know your father raised you right. Taught you to listen when it matters."

He lightly spanked your backside, watching your flesh wriggle before soothing the skin he had hit.

"Now get up."

Joel pulled out of you, then crawled off you so suddenly, you felt exposed and cold feeling his weight leave you. Then, disappointment, grief even, flooded you and you peered over your shoulder.

"Joel… I thought – "

"You thought what?" he barked as he tucked himself in, eyes shimmering like you had just personally offended him.

"I wanna cum too."

Your voice was so quiet and feeble, you weren't even sure whether he had heard you. But then he cupped your chin, his hand looking massive compared to your face, and you became aware of it once more.

Everything about him was so big, so broad, which felt intimidating in the best way possible.

"And I don't care about that, kitten. You're a slut that's meant to be used by me. That's what you here for. To take my cum well and satisfy me."

Softly howling, your lids twitched, eyes skimming over his veiny forearm.

"Shh…" Joel mumbled, picking up the rest of his clothes with his left hand while his right was keeping you still.

"You just gotta understand that there're different types of girls, baby. And you're the one that's made to be fucked and claimed. What do you expect, mhm? You expect me to bring you flowers for all this? A girl who spreads her legs for her father's best friend? You chose your path, sweetheart, the second you decided to flash your panties at me earlier."

Although you still couldn't figure out how all of this tied to your orgasm, you said nothing as you were busy thinking about how you could fix your issue. Perhaps you could sneak off to the bathroom after Joel had left and take care of it yourself. If only you wouldn't like his thumb on your clit that much…

"I really need it, daddy," you murmured absent-mindedly, staring into space.

"Then you can touch yourself later, baby. But only if you promise to send me a pic." Joel chuckled softly. "But first we're gonna go downstairs and pretend you're not full of my cum… That I haven't just fucked your brains out in your pretty bedroom. You're gonna have to do a good job at disguising what a stupid pet I turned you into. 'Cause if your dad finds out there's not gonna be any more cum for you. No more fingers in your mouth. Is that clear?"

"No," you quickly spat, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from leaving your bed. All Joel did was laugh at your ridiculous attempt yet remained on the bed. To give you what you craved or to ridicule you, you weren't exactly sure.

"No what? You're not gonna be good for me an' behave?"

"I just – I need you," you wailed with fresh tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

"Well, you just had me inside your fuckin' cunt, babygirl. Was that not enough? You said that it was too much. That you can't take it. And now you're tellin' me that you need me? You can't choose, can ya?"

You lacked the strength to explain to him the difference, which was mostly rooted in your neglected clit. Still, you doubted that Joel even needed your illustrations. Taunting you by twisting your words and not understanding your needs on purpose was so very typical of him.

"Please, daddy," you whimpered, digging your claws deeper in his flesh and glaring up at him through your lashes, presenting yourself as your most pathetic and needy version.

"Please, I just wanna cum. Please, I'll be good. I promise."

"Open your legs." His voice was a low snarl, vibrating with something that you couldn't quite place.

Still, you moved in the desired position with no hesistance and parted your thighs. Anticipation swamped your senses as you waited for his next action. Was he going to touch you? You would even be satisfied with him taking care of you quickly and with no gentle care, you just needed to cum. That was all.

But Joel took all the time in the world as he sat on the bed, his upper body turned toward you.

"Let's take a look at that, mhm?" he growled, leaning down so you could only see the back of his head.

"You're tellin' me you need it, babygirl?"

Your head nodding rapidly, you shuddered at the way Joel trailed along your pussy lips, playfully spreading them. You enjoyed to finally receive more attention from his fingers, although you needed him to travel a little further up your cunt, just an inch higher – Oh.

You gasped loudly feeling two of his fingers pushing his seed back inside.

"Joel," you whimpered, earning you a light slap on your face and then his palm over your mouth.

"Shut up, I'm not gonna say it again."

You didn't know which was worse, your itchy, stiff clit that was so desperate for any friction, you would be grateful for anything at this point, even just his hand cupping your pussy, or your overstimulated, sore walls. Your ex boyfried had never fucked you as intensely as Joel did, so these feelings were entirely new territory for you.

Obviously, he didn't make you cum. It would have been too good, wouldn't it? He had fucked you so well, put all his strength and running emotions in his heavy thrusts, had both degraded and praised you while touching you like you were the best thing he had ever put his hands upon. An additional orgasm would have been… too good to believe.

Joel just thrust his digits in your sloppy cunt a few more times, ensuring that his cum was deep inside you and then cleaned his fingers on your bedsheets.

"I want my cum inside ya, babydoll. If I made you cum now, you'd flood it all out with your juices. You understand that, don't ya?"

Nodding slowly, you couldn't conceal the disappointment etched into your features, especially your puckering lips. It provoked Joel to cradle your face in his much larger palm, which always made you feel like he was swallowing you.

"Besides… It's gonna make you come back for more, baby. Which I want. 'Cause I'm not done yet with your pretty body. I don't know if I'll ever be."

His eyes roamed your body from your shoulders down to your kneecaps.

"Pretty slut."

He smacked your thigh one last time before straightening up and pointing to the door with new determination that made you think that this time, you couldn't force him to stay with your begging.

"Get dressed. And splash some cold water in your face, goddamnit. And remember what I told ya… If you touch yourself, you're gonna send me photos. Can't have ya treatin' that pussy bad. The only one who knows what your 'lil clit needs is me, so you're gonna need me."

With that, Joel approached the door, making sure his clothes were well-adjusted, and stepped outside. You needed another beat to catch your breath.

Then, you looked down your own body, catching sight of your swollen clit as well as your raw opening.

God… All of this really wasn't just bad for your mental state but your physical too. At least when it came to feeling unsatisfied and jittery after you should have been content.

But at the same time, you knew that Joel was right.

You would come back for more.

Yeah, sure. Not attracted to other guys at all!

Dex looked far too pleased about it.

You loved that about Dex. He never looked surprised when he got what he wanted. He looked like he had already calculated the exact second Bucky would snap and finally kissed him back already!

“You’re so fucking smug,” Bucky muttered.

Dex’s eyes slid to you. “She likes watching us.”

Bucky looked at you, too.

You were flushed, breathless, trying very hard not to smile.

“I do,” you admitted.

Bucky’s jaw clicked. Then he kissed Dex like he was a bit annoyed at him for being right.

It was rough, open-mouthed, and mean in that competitive, stupid, beautiful way men got when neither one of them wanted to admit they were enjoying themselves. Bucky made this low sound into Dex’s  mouth, and Dex’s hand tightened in his shirt.

See, you liked being watched. That was your thing. But apparently, you liked watching too. Which was why you invited them over to your place on a rare off-day. You had been casually sleeping with them separately for a while now, and you knew that both of them were aware of the other guy, so you thought eh, why not? Might be fun. Might be interesting. They might try killing each other, but maybe you’d be into that, too, in your own fucked up way.

Interesting turned out to be the right choice of word, because seeing Bucky’s mouth on Dex, seeing Dex lean into it like he had been starving, made heat curl low in your stomach so fast you actually whimpered.

Both of them heard it.

Dex broke the kiss first, breathing hard, eyes dark as he turned back to you.“You want him to make you feel good, baby?”

Bucky’s stomach flipped. You tilted your head.

Huh. That's new. 

Dex’s voice was low, like he was giving you a gift. Like he was reminding Bucky to understand that you were still the centre of this. Still the one they were both trying to please. Competitive bastard. 

But this was out of character, because Dex was usually the more submissive when he was with you. 

Apparently, Bucky being there flipped some jealous, vicious little switch in him. Suddenly he needed to prove he could fuck you just as stupid as a super soldier could. And he could.

Bucky, meanwhile, went the opposite way. Usually, he was much more dominant. Usually he was the one pinning you down and taking control.

But with Dex there, he got pleasantly quieter. More obedient, more desperate to be useful. Like he wanted to prove he could be good for you, too, mouth on you, hands where you told him, watching Dex fuck you while waiting for your next order.

So really, you were spoiled for choice.

Dex was trying to beat Bucky in his own game. Bucky was trying to prove that he could follow orders, too!

Unfortunately, you were greedy and wanted both. 

You looked at Bucky, and how he reacted to Dex’s words. 

Bucky looked at you like he was trying very hard not to crawl.

“Yes,” you said.

Dex’s smile widened. “Then tell him.”

“Please, Bucky,” you pouted, “Please make me feel good.”

Bucky was on his knees between your thighs before you could even tease him for how fast he moved.

And that was when it got from great to whatever the fuck the seventh circle of heaven was.

Bucky was hungry. He kissed the inside of your thigh like he hated the fact that Dex was watching and loved it at the same time. His hands gripped your hips, metal and flesh, holding you open while his eyes flicked up to your face.

Dex moved behind you, one hand at your throat, not squeezing, just keeping you upright. Keeping your head tilted. Keeping you watching.

“Look at him,” Dex murmured against your ear. “Since you want him so bad.”

You did.

You watched Bucky drag his mouth deeper and his eyes darken when your breath caught.

You watched him notice exactly what made your muscles tight and then do it again, harder, because Bucky Barnes had never lost a competition in his life without making it everyone’s problem.

Dex noticed too. That’s when his grip at your jaw tightened.

Bucky smiled against your skin. “She likes when I—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dex snapped, voice rough. “I noticed.”

You nearly came from that alone.

You loved the jealousy and the attention. The fact that they were both so focused on you it felt impossible to breathe. Dex behind you, controlled and possessive. Bucky between your legs, looking up like he was daring Dex to do better.

Dex praised you when your pleasure rippled through.

Bucky groaned when you pulled his hair.

Dex told you, “That’s it. Let her hear you.”

You hummed like the sound was a reward.

Fuck, who were these people and what have they done to your boys? They were so different with their roles reversed.

Different, but good different. It was nice to see them both out of their comfort zones for you, pushing your buttons in opposite ways. 

Still, what mattered most was that they worked especially well together.

Bucky knew how to make you feel adored and devoured at the same time. Dex knew how to hold you still without making it feel like a cage. Bucky knew being watched made you desperate. Dex knew praise made you pliant. Bucky knew exactly when to be patient. Dex knew exactly when not to be.

So when Dex finally pulled you flush against him, his body pressed behind yours, Bucky stayed in front of you with wet lips, bright blue eyes, and both vibranium and flesh hands on your thighs.

Dex’s hand slid down your stomach, teasing and mean.

Bucky watched.

Then instead of reaching for your core like you had expected him to, Dex leaned forward, grabbed a fistful of Bucky’s hair, and pulled him up from between your legs until he was sitting beside you instead.

Oh.

Bucky gave a lewd moan, eyes blown wide.

You turned your head, breathless, lips brushing Dex’s cheek.

“You liked that,” you teased Bucky.

Dex’s smile went wicked.

“Touch him again,” you whispered, not as demanding as you usually was with him. “Please, Dex”

Bucky murmured your name like a warning, but he did not pull away when Dex’s fingers trailed up his metal arm, before he caught Bucky by the chin and forced the former Winter Soldier to look at him.

Bucky made a whine that sounded obscene.

You smiled. Oh. This was different from usual, dominant Bucky. This was way different. Not that you were complaining.

“You two are so cute,” you said, and had the audacity to giggle. 

Bucky gave a rough, breathless laugh.

Dex bit your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to shut you up.

It didn’t work. Because now you knew. Now you had both of them.

And because they were both insane, because both of them wanted to be your favourite, because neither of them could stand the idea of the other pleasing you better, they became unbearable.

Dex pushed into you from behind, slow at first, his mouth pressed to your neck, groaning every time you clenched around him.

And Bucky took a leap of faith and kissed him again while he did it.

It was messy, hungry, and competitive, sharing your sweet taste with him. 

He did it like he hated how much he wanted it. Like he hated even more that Dex was good at this.

Then Bucky turned and kissed you too with Dex’s spit still trailing from his mouth, stealing every sound Dex dragged out of you like he wanted to claim those, too.

It was filthy.

It was perfect.

Dex behind you, inside you, trying and failing to keep control. Bucky beside you, metal hand slipping between your legs while his other hand worked himself, his mouth moving between yours and Dex’s like he couldn’t decide who he wanted to ruin more.

And you were spoiled rotten.

You were held open. Watched. Kissed. Praised. Teased. Split apart between two men who had spent the entire night pretending they hated each other when really they hated how badly they wanted the same thing.

You.

And maybe, a little bit, each other.

You came first, because of course you did. They were both too competitive not to make that happen. Dex fucked you through it with his face buried in your throat, voice breaking around your name, and Bucky’s hand wasn’t much better. He didn’t even slow down as he watched you fall apart like it was the prettiest little thing he had ever seen in his century-old tenure on life.

Dex followed after, buried deep, shaking behind you.

Then Bucky came around his own fist. Still breathing hard, he grabbed Dex to kiss him again.

Though he wasn’t angry this time. He was still rough and possessive. But not angry.

Dex melted into it, pleased with himself.

Afterward, none of you moved much

Dex stayed behind you, arm locked around your waist like he had no intention of letting either of you escape. Bucky had his head in your lap, fingers tracing lazy circles over your tummy, eyes half-lidded and far too pleased with himself.

Then Dex murmured, “I think I’m her favourite.”

Bucky’s head lifted immediately.“You’re delusional.”

You laughed.

Obviously, they were going to deny it.

Bucky would call it adrenaline. Dex would call it curiosity. Both of them would insist it had mostly been about you.

And sure, maybe it had been. For now.

But you had felt Dex shiver when Bucky touched him. You had seen Bucky lose his composure when Dex kissed him.

They liked each other. Probably almost as much as they liked you.

They liked fighting. They liked watching. They liked being watched. They liked competing to please you so badly that the competition had turned into wanting each other too.

They just hadn’t figured it out yet.

Which was fine. You had plenty of time.

And next time, you had every intention of making them do much more than make out while you watched.

—

Note: I’m always so pleased that so many of us have the same taste in emotionally volatile men. This will be my last blurb of the night! Keep em coming and I will try my best to write them 🫶

His fingers work deftly at his belt, unbuckling it with a swift tug. In an instant, he's wrapped the leather strap around your wrists, cinching it tight until the edges dig into your skin. Tight enough to remind you, sharply, that you don't belong to anyone but him.

He hauls you to your feet using the belt until your back slams against the wall, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat in a perfect helpless noise.

His fingers trail down your quivering stomach, tracing the dip of your navel until they reach soaked heat. You flinch at his touch, legs instinctively trying to close, but he grips your throat reminding you who's in control here. Not you.

"Open, Y/N" he whispers hotly against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. The command is clear, even if the words are few. He's not interested in your mouth.

When your thighs part for him, he wastes no time sliding two long fingers knuckle deep inside you. Tight. Hot. Wet.

"You were in the N109 zone for soooo long I thought you'd forgotten about me. Did you have fun with...what was his name? Oh," his fingers curl deeper, striking a bumpy spot that makes you arch. "Sylus, yeah?" the name falls from his lips like a curse.

Your thighs tremble and your eyes flutter closed as you instinctively start to grind against his hand, chasing that perfect friction, that exquisite curl of his fingers. But he denies you that control. With a sharp tug he unties your hands and drags you towards the bed, flipping you onto your stomach and yanking your hips up.

He spits and you whimper as the thick, obscene slide of his saliva drips down your already wet pussy. The sound of his zipper lowering is your only warning before he's thrusting inside you, stretching you open around his thick cock. The breath is knocked clean out of your lungs as he hilts inside you, filling you to the brim.

His rhythm feels brutal, each thrust steady and merciless, pounding into you with a force that makes your toes curl. You try to close your legs again, but he keeps them spread wide, gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.

"Raf!" you cry out, voice breaking on a sob. But he just chuckles.

"Say it"

You try to hold back, to deny him the words he wants to hear. But he fucks them out of you anyway.

"Please, s-Sir..." you barely whisper.

He hears it. Owns it. And he uses it, to fuck you even harder, deeper, until your body tightens, so close and desperate.

Without warning or mercy he stops and tears start to stream down your face.

"Oh, my sweet miss bodyguard," his fingers trail up the curve of your spine, a mocking caress that makes you shiver. "Did you really think that was the end? That I was done with you?" His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes "Shhh, don't cry, baby"

The tension is unbearable, like a knife's edge pressed against your skin, your sanity. You're leaking with the need to break but he refuses to let you fall.

"Poor thing," he pouts, voice dripping with false sympathy as he starts to move again. His thrusts now slow, deliberate, each one a precise, measured slide of his perfect cock dragging against your gummy walls.

Before you can even think to arch your hips to meet his thrusts, his hands are on you. Fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, holding you still. A sharp click of his tongue fills the air, a sound of disapproval.

"Was it this good, cutie? Does he fuck you just as good as I do?" His voice is edged with something that sounds like jealousy. But that can't be right. He owns you, body and soul. He has no need for jealousy.

You shake your head and try to form the words to assure him, to tell him that no one could ever make you feel the way he does, but he's moving faster now. Your body spasms, back arching as a loud moan tears from your throat.

He stops again and a curse falls from your lips "Hush now," his fingers sink into your mouth, filling it. "You're not here just for pleasure."

He thrusts again and you clench so tightly around him that it hurts you both. He uses that pain and your desperation until you're sobbing around his fingers. Tears leaking from your eyes, drool leaking from your mouth.

Your cunt flutters desperately, as if trying to steal his permission to cum. He removes his fingers from your mouth and pulls back, admiring the sight of your pussy gripping his cock, strings of your arousal connecting you both. Shamelessly he reaches down and spreads your ass cheeks, putting your needy hole on lewd display.

"You want to cum?" One hand moves to your lower belly, feeling the shape of his cock as it throbs inside your. Demanding. Insistent.

"Y-yesfuckfuckyesplease," you babble, too far gone to form coherent words.

"Then fucking earn it," he growls, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your stomach. "Beg for it"

His hand moves lower, finding your clit to rub the puffy nub in slow, grinding circles, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you scream.

"Please, Sir..."

"Good girl, now cum for me" An order. Hes not looking for your release, but for your obedience.

With one last swipe of his finger against your clit, you shatter. Your body seizes, jerking and locking up, before collapsing into the mattress. Spent. Broken.

He stays buried inside you, hands gripping yours tightly behind your back, holding you in place and using them as reins. Even when your pussy spasms and clenches hard around him, he doesn't stop. He thrusts once again, riding out your climax, using it to drive himself to his own end.

When your bodies are nothing but trembling wrecks, he leans in, lips brushing your temple, breath hot and ragged. Whispering. "Now you know what you are,"

He licks away a fresh tear as it spills down your cheek, tasting salt and surrender. Then, in a voice that leaves no room for doubt, he speaks the truth.

"Mine."

The escape room was themed "Haunted Library," which should have been your first warning. You stood in the lobby with your team while an overly enthusiastic employee explained the rules.

"You have sixty minutes to solve the puzzles and escape the room! Work together, think creatively, and most importantly—have fun!" The employee smiled brightly. "Oh, and there might be a few jump scares. Nothing too intense! Just to keep things spooky!"

"Jump scares?" Malleus asked, looking genuinely curious. "What is the purpose of frightening the participants?"

"It's, uh, for atmosphere?" the employee said, looking uncertain about how to explain entertainment to someone who apparently didn't understand the concept.

"Fascinating," Malleus said, in the same tone someone might use to observe an interesting scientific phenomenon.

"THIS WILL BE SIMPLE," Sebek announced loudly, making the employee jump. "WE ARE HIGHLY TRAINED ESPERS! A SIMPLE PUZZLE ROOM WILL BE NO MATCH FOR OUR COMBINED INTELLECT AND—"

"Sebek," Lilia said gently. "Inside voice."

"THIS IS MY INSIDE VOICE."

"Your inside voice is making that poor employee reconsider their life choices."

The employee nodded frantically.

You were ushered into the room, which was decorated to look like an old library complete with dusty bookshelves, cobwebs, and dramatic lighting that was probably meant to be spooky but mostly just made it hard to see. There was a grandfather clock in the corner, some portraits on the walls, and a desk covered in papers and strange objects.

The door clicked shut behind you.

"ALRIGHT TEAM!" Sebek immediately took charge, because of course he did. "WE NEED TO SEARCH SYSTEMATICALLY! I'LL TAKE THIS SECTION, YOU TAKE—WHY ARE YOU PULLING BOOKS AT RANDOM?!"

"Looking for secrets," you said, yanking books off the shelf to see if any of them triggered hidden compartments.

"THAT'S NOT SYSTEMATIC!"

"It's working though." You pulled a red book and heard a click. A drawer popped open in the desk across the room. "See?"

Sebek looked like he wanted to argue but couldn't because you'd literally just found something.

Silver had immediately found a comfortable chair in the corner and sat down. "I'll keep watch," he mumbled, and was asleep within thirty seconds.

"SILVER! SILVER, WAKE UP! THIS IS A TEAM ACTIVITY!"

Silver did not wake up.

Malleus was examining everything with the intense fascination of someone who'd never seen a staged haunted library before, which, to be fair, he probably hadn't. He picked up a skull from the desk—probably plastic, hopefully plastic—and studied it with deep interest. "The craftsmanship on this is quite good. Very detailed."

"Young Master, that's a prop, we need to look for clues!" Sebek said desperately.

"This could be a clue," Malleus said reasonably.

Lilia was having the time of his life. You could tell because he kept picking up completely random objects and presenting them to you with great seriousness. "What about this candlestick? Very suspicious."

"That's a red herring," you said.

"How can you tell?"

"Because you're grinning like a maniac and I know you're messing with me."

"Am I?" He set down the candlestick and picked up a book. "What about this book titled 'DEFINITELY NOT A CLUE'?"

"Lilia."

"It could be reverse psychology!"

You found a code on the back of a portrait that corresponded to numbers on the clock. You started turning the clock hands while Sebek yelled instructions that contradicted what you were already doing.

Malleus asked thoughtful questions about why humans enjoyed trapping themselves in rooms for fun. Silver briefly woke up, solved a puzzle by pointing out that the Latin phrase on the wall was an anagram, and then immediately fell back asleep in his chair.

"How did he—" you started.

"SILVER! SILVER, WE NEED YOU AWAKE!"

"Let him rest," Malleus said. "He's clearly tired."

"THIS IS AN ESCAPE ROOM, NOT A BEDROOM!"

You found a locked box that required a four-letter code. There were clues scattered around the room—something about "the answer lies in the yeet," which you assumed was supposed to say "sheet" but the theming was trying too hard to be hip with the youths.

"What's a yeet?" Malleus asked seriously.

"It's—" You tried to figure out how to explain modern slang to someone who was probably several centuries old. "It's when you throw something? Really hard? With enthusiasm?"

"Why would the answer involve throwing things?"

"It doesn't, it's a typo, they meant sheet—"

"PERHAPS IF EVERYONE STOPPED TALKING ABOUT YEETING AND FOCUSED—"

Lilia found another clue that was definitely not a clue and presented it to Sebek just to watch him have an aneurysm about time management.

You were trying to solve a puzzle involving matching symbols when the first jump scare happened. A bookshelf panel slid open and a figure in a ghost costume popped out with a recorded scream.

You didn't react. You'd seen actual monsters. Fought them. This was a person in a bed sheet.

Malleus didn't react. He just observed the ghost with polite interest. "Hello," he said to it.

Sebek didn't react because he was too busy yelling about the puzzle solutions to notice.

Silver didn't react because he was asleep.

Lilia, however, very theatrically gasped and looped his arms around your neck from behind, pressing against your back. "Oh no," he said in a completely unconvincing frightened voice. "I'm so scared. Protect me."

Your brain immediately short-circuited.

He was touching you. His arms were around your neck. You could feel his breath near your ear. He was warm and solid and RIGHT THERE and your heart was doing gymnastics in your chest.

You tried to act casual. You are cool and unbothered.

"It's just a person in a costume," you said, and your voice only cracked a little bit.

"But such a convincing costume," Lilia said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. He knew exactly what he was doing. "I feel much safer with you here."

You were doing cartwheels in your head. Backflips. Your internal monologue was just screaming. This was fine. Everything was fine. He was just being playful. This was normal friend behavior. Friends hugged each other from behind in escape rooms all the time. This was totally normal and not at all making you want to combust.

"We should, uh, keep solving puzzles," you managed.

"Mm, probably," Lilia agreed, but he didn't let go immediately. He stayed there for another few seconds—the longest few seconds of your life—before finally releasing you and going back to examining random objects with that insufferable knowing smile.

You stood there, frozen, trying to remember how to be a person.

"ARE YOU GOING TO HELP OR JUST STAND THERE?!" Sebek shouted.

"Right. Yes. Puzzles. I'm helping." You stumbled toward the nearest puzzle, your brain still offline.

You escaped with two minutes to spare, which Sebek took as a personal victory and immediately started lecturing everyone about what they could have done better. Silver woke up long enough to say "good job team" and then dozed off again while standing. Malleus said he found the experience "educational" and asked if all human entertainment involved being locked in rooms, because he had several questions about that as a concept.

Lilia was grinning at you like he'd won something.

You walked out of the escape room feeling like you'd failed your initial mission but also kind of like you'd succeeded at something else you hadn't planned for.

"That was fun!" Lilia said cheerfully. "We should do more team activities like this."

"Yeah," you said weakly. "Fun."

"Same time next week?"

"Sure. Or—" You took a breath. You could do this. You could ask properly this time. "Or maybe just the two of us could do something? Like, specifically just us? As in, a date? I'm asking you on a date. This is me asking you on a date. Just to be completely clear."

Lilia's grin widened. "Was that what today was supposed to be?"

"...Yes."

"And I invited everyone."

"Yes."

"Oh dear." He didn't look sorry at all. He looked delighted. "Well, then I suppose I owe you an actual date. Just the two of us. No surprise team members."

"You knew?!"

"I had my suspicions when you started panicking about activities." He patted your arm. "Next time, just say 'I want to take you on a date.' It's clearer."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

He was right. You didn't.

Sebek appeared behind you. "WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT?"

"Nothing!" you said quickly.

"MASTER LILIA, THEY'RE BEING SUSPICIOUS AGAIN!"

"Let them be suspicious, Sebek. It's character building."

Next time, you'd ask him out properly.

(Next time, he'd probably say yes immediately instead of making you suffer through an escape room with your entire team, but where was the fun in that?)

The second date—technically first date, since the escape room disaster didn't count—was quite nice.

You'd learned from your mistakes. This time, you'd been direct. "Lilia, I want to take you on a date. Just us.." And he'd said yes with that knowing smile that suggested he'd been waiting for you to ask properly, which was both flattering and irritating in equal measure.

You went to a movie first—some action film with dubious physics that you both spent half the runtime quietly mocking. Lilia had opinions about the combat choreography, pointing out which moves would actually be effective in a Gate situation and which would get you killed immediately.

You'd never thought about how unrealistic movie fighting was until you'd spent months actually fighting monsters, and now you couldn't unsee it.

Then dinner at a small restaurant that didn't ask questions about why one of you had red eyes and the other kept nervously adjusting their napkin every thirty seconds. The food was good. The conversation was better.

Lilia told you about his previous experiences with Gates, back when he'd been an active Guide with other Espers. He talked about the early days of the Bureau, when nobody really knew what they were doing and Gates were new and terrifying.

He mentioned raids that had gone wrong, ones that had gone right, Espers he'd worked with who'd retired or transferred or, in some cases, burned out completely.

"It's gotten better," he said, swirling his wine in a way that suggested he'd done this many times before, probably over many decades. "The protocols, the training, the understanding of how Guiding actually works. Back then, we were just... making it up as we went along. Hoping for the best. A lot of people got hurt because we didn't know better."

"Sounds terrifying," you said, genuinely.

"It was." His expression went distant for a moment, remembering things you weren't there for. "But also exciting. There's something about being on the frontier of understanding, even if that frontier is 'how do we stop monsters from eating everyone.'"

"You've come far," Lilia said, and there was genuine pride in his voice. "When I found you in that alley, you were a mess."

"I'm still a mess. Just a more controlled mess."

The conversation flowed easily, comfortably, like you'd been doing this for years instead of months. You told him about your life before the Bureau—the convenience store job, the careful isolation, the fear of being discovered.

It was nice. Really nice. You felt warm and happy and like maybe this could actually work, whatever "this" was.

And then you ruined it by mentioning bonding.

It came up naturally in conversation. You'd been talking about other Esper-Guide pairs you'd seen at the Bureau, and you mentioned how some of them seemed almost telepathically connected. "Like that pair on Team Seven," you said. "They barely have to talk during raids. It's kind of romantic, honestly. That whole permanent bond thing, being connected to someone that deeply."

Lilia's expression dropped.

It was subtle—he was good at controlling his face—but you saw it. The way his smile became fixed. The way his eyes went distant. The way his hand tightened slightly around his glass.

"It's... not always romantic," he said carefully, and then changed the subject. "Speaking of Team Seven, did you hear about their last raid? Apparently they encountered a monster that could mimic human speech. Caused all sorts of confusion."

You let him change the subject, but your brain was working.

The second time bonding came up—you'd been talking about training, about how some Guides and Espers trained together to improve their resonance—his reaction was the same. Expression dropping, subject changed, a subtle tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

The third time, you weren't even the one who brought it up. A couple at the next table was talking loudly about their friend who'd just formed a permanent bond with their Guide, going on about how beautiful the ceremony was, how romantic, how lucky they were to find someone compatible.

Lilia went very still. His smile stayed in place, but it looked painted on. Fake.

You might act like a feral raccoon who made poor life choices and yelled about groceries when panicking, but you could put two and two together.

You'd heard about forced bonding. Everyone at the Bureau had. It was talked about in hushed voices, used as a cautionary tale during training. Really desperate Espers, ones who were burning out or losing control, sometimes tried to force a bond with a Guide. Thought that a permanent connection would stabilize them, fix them, make everything better.

It never did.

Forced bonding ended well for no one. For the Guide, it was like being set on fire from the inside out, your psyche being ripped open and invaded and permanently damaged. They usually lost their Guiding powers entirely afterward, if they survived at all. Some went catatonic. Some died. The ones who lived were never the same.

And the Esper responsible was usually imprisoned, if they were lucky. If they weren't lucky, well. The Bureau had ways of dealing with Espers who proved too dangerous to society.

Lilia had lost his Guide powers years ago. He'd said it was an injury. An incident.

You didn't need to be a genius to connect those dots.

The realization made something cold settle in your stomach. Made you want to find whoever had hurt him and introduce them to the business end of your fists, enhanced with every ounce of power you possessed.

But you didn't ask. You didn't want to make him talk about something that was clearly painful.

Instead, you looked out the restaurant window and spotted some guy trying to parallel park and failing spectacularly. He'd hit the curb three times and was now at an angle that shouldn't be physically possible.

"Oh my god, look at that guy," you said, pointing. You reached across the table and grabbed Lilia's hand, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing gently. "Is he okay? Is he having a medical emergency? Should we call someone?"

Lilia followed your gaze, and you felt the tension in his hand start to ease. "I think he's just a terrible driver."

"He's hit the curb four times now. Four. That's a skill issue."

"Perhaps we should offer to park it for him."

"I don't know how to drive."

"Neither does he, apparently."

The guy finally gave up and just left his car at a diagonal angle, taking up two spaces. You and Lilia watched him get out, look at his parking job, shrug, and walk away like this was fine.

"I respect the confidence," you said, squeezing Lilia's hand tighter. "Wrong, but confident."

Lilia laughed—a real laugh, not the forced politeness from earlier. His smile was genuine again, reaching his eyes. He squeezed your hand back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what? Making fun of terrible drivers? That's just good citizenship."

"For not asking."

You squeezed his hand again, tighter this time. "Nothing to ask about. We're watching a guy who can't park. That's the whole activity right now."

His smile went soft, something tender and grateful in his expression. He turned his hand over in yours, properly interlacing your fingers, and held on like he didn't want to let go.

You sat there, holding hands across the table, watching some stranger struggle with basic motor vehicle operation, and felt like you'd just dodged a landmine you hadn't known was there.

Whatever had happened to Lilia, whoever had hurt him, it wasn't your business unless he wanted to make it your business. You weren't going to push. Weren't going to demand explanations or tragic backstories or force him to relive trauma just to satisfy your curiosity.

You were just going to sit here, hold his hand, and make fun of people who couldn't park.

That seemed like the right thing to do.

"Want to get dessert?" Lilia asked after a moment.

"Only if we can sit by the window and continue our parking commentary."

"Deal."

You got dessert. You did continue the parking commentary—two more people attempted to park in that spot and both failed hilariously. Lilia's hand stayed in yours the entire time, warm and solid and real.

It was a good date.

Some things might never need to be said at all.

Lilia dropped you off at your apartment. The car ride back had been comfortable, filled with easy conversation and the occasional comfortable silence that came when you didn't feel the need to fill every moment with words. His hand had stayed in yours the entire drive, only letting go when he needed to shift gears, and even then he'd reach back to reclaim it immediately after.

You stood outside your apartment building, suddenly uncertain. How did dates end? You'd seen movies. You knew the theory. But theory and practice were very different things, and your brain was extremely unhelpful right now, suggesting terrible ideas like "shake his hand professionally" or "give him a high five" or "run away screaming."

Before you could do any of those things, you leaned in and kissed him.

Lilia kissed you back.

His hand came up to cup your face, gentle and warm, and for a moment everything else disappeared. The street, the city, the fact that you were standing outside your apartment building where your neighbors could definitely see. None of it mattered.

You pulled back, breathless, grinning like an idiot.

Lilia's expression was complicated. Soft and wanting, but also hesitant. Uncertain in a way you'd never seen him be uncertain about anything.

"Are you sure I'm the one you want?" he asked quietly, and there was something fragile in his tone that made your chest hurt.

You felt like screaming. Lilia, who was always full of whimsy and mischief and chaos, who approached everything with confidence and that insufferable knowing grin, being hesitant was wrong. It didn't belong in this world. It didn't belong on his face. The universe had made an error in allowing Lilia to doubt himself, and you were personally offended by it.

"Shut up," you said, and kissed him again.

This time he kissed back hard, like he'd been holding himself back before and had just gotten permission to stop. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and just melted into it.

When you finally broke apart—because breathing was unfortunately necessary—you were both slightly dazed.

"You're very persistent," Lilia said, and he was smiling now, that genuine soft smile that made your heart do acrobatics.

"I learned from the best," you shot back, slightly breathless. "Your persistence is what brought me here. You found me in an alley eating drywall—"

"You weren't eating it yet."

"—ALMOST eating drywall, and you didn't let me run away. You kept Guiding me even when I was a disaster." You tightened your arms around his neck. "So yeah, I'm persistent. I'm persistent because you taught me that persistence pays off."

Lilia laughed, bright and genuine, and something in his expression settled. The hesitance faded, replaced by that familiar mischief and something deeper. Warmer.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked, jerking your head toward your apartment building.

You watched him consider it. Saw the moment he made his decision.

"Yes," he said simply.

You grabbed his hand and dragged him inside, fumbling with your keys because your hands were shaking slightly—from nerves or excitement or the lingering adrenaline of actually kissing him, you weren't sure. You finally got the door open and pulled him into your apartment.

It was still the same apartment where you'd barbecued a spider. The scorch mark on the wall had been painted over but was still slightly visible if you knew where to look. Your furniture was mismatched and secondhand. There were dishes in the sink you'd been meaning to wash. It wasn't impressive or fancy or anything special.

You pulled him toward the couch. You both sat down, closer than strictly necessary, your sides pressed together. His arm went around your shoulders automatically, like it belonged there.

"So," you said.

"So," he echoed, grinning.

"This is happening."

"Apparently so."

"You're okay with this?" You needed to hear him say it. Needed to know that the hesitance was gone, that he actually wanted this as much as you did.

Lilia turned to face you properly, his red eyes serious despite his smile. "I'm more than okay with this. I just needed to make sure you knew what you were getting into."

"A relationship with my Guide who happens to be fae and has seen things I can't even imagine and makes terrible jokes?"

"That's a very accurate summary, yes."

"Sounds perfect," you said, and kissed him again because you could now.

He kissed you back, one hand tangling in your hair, the other pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. It was warm and comfortable and felt right in a way that made everything else—the Bureau, the Gates, the stress, the fear—fade into background noise.

You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his. "For the record, I don't care about your past."

Lilia's expression flickered with something complicated. "You don't know what happened."

"I don't need to. Not unless you want to tell me." You cupped his face with both hands, making him look at you. "I just need you to know that I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. And I'm very, very sure about this."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch like it was something precious. "You're going to be the death of me."

"That's dramatic. I'm going to be the best thing that ever happened to you."

He laughed, opening his eyes, and they were softer than you'd ever seen them. "I suppose you are."

You spent the rest of the evening on your couch, talking and kissing and existing in the same space without the pressure of Gates or training or professionalism. Lilia told you stories about his past—carefully edited ones, nothing about the incident that had taken his powers, but stories about other Espers, other Gates, moments that had stuck with him over the years.

You told him about your life before, about your dreams of being a marine biologist that had died when you'd sneezed a car into orbit.

"You could still study marine biology," Lilia pointed out. "As a hobby."

"Do I look like I have time for hobbies?"

"You're literally required to take a week off every month. You negotiated that into your contract."

"...Okay that's fair."

He stayed until late, until you were both tired and comfortable and reluctant to move. When he finally stood to leave, you walked him to the door, holding his hand the entire way.

"Same time next week?" he asked, and kissed you one more time before leaving.

You closed the door behind him and leaned against it, grinning like an absolute idiot.

You pulled out your phone and saw a text from Lilia already.

Lilia: Made it home. Thank you for tonight. You're wonderful, even if you can't park.

You: I DON'T EVEN HAVE A CAR

Lilia: Exactly my point.

You laughed and went to bed feeling lighter than you had in years.

The alarm went off at 3 AM, which was never a good sign.

You jolted awake to your phone screaming and a message from Bureau dispatch: EMERGENCY GATE - SS-RANK RESPONSE REQUIRED - REPORT IMMEDIATELY.

You were out the door in five minutes, still pulling on your uniform, your brain struggling to come online. The Bureau building was chaos when you arrived—people running, shouting, the emergency lights flashing red. You found Lilia immediately because he found you first, materializing at your side like he always did.

"Big one," he said, and his voice was tense in a way you'd never heard before. "S-rank Gate, possibly higher. It opened in a residential district."

"Where's Malleus? Sebek? Silver?"

"Already deployed to another Gate across the city. It opened at the same time." His jaw was tight. "You're going in without them."

You felt your stomach drop. You'd always had your team. Malleus who could level mountains, Sebek who was competent despite the yelling, Silver who solved problems in his sleep. Going into a high-level Gate without them felt wrong.

But you were SS-rank. This was literally what you'd signed up for.

The transport to the Gate site was fast and silent. You could see it from blocks away—the thing was massive, easily twice the size of any Gate you'd seen before, pulsing with sickly energy that made your teeth hurt even from a distance.

When you arrived, you saw the Guides waiting outside.

Some of them were crying.

You saw decimated Espers in their arms, bodies broken and bleeding, being desperately Guided back from the edge. Some were unconscious. Some were screaming. Some were too far gone, their eyes vacant and empty, minds already shattered beyond repair.

You watched a Guide sob over their Esper's body, trying to Guide someone who couldn't be Guided anymore, who'd burned out so completely there was nothing left to save.

You felt cold.

Lilia grabbed your arm, pulling your attention to him. For the first time since you'd met him, he looked genuinely worried. Scared, even.

"You have to come back," he said, and his voice was tight. "You understand? You have to come back because I still need to teach you how to park."

"I don't even have a car," you said automatically, the familiar joke feeling hollow.

"Then I'll buy you one just so I can teach you. So you have to come back." His hands were on your shoulders, gripping tight. "Promise me."

Instead of promising, you kissed him. For luck. For courage. For the possibility that this might be the last time.

He kissed you back hard, desperately, like he was trying to pour every ounce of protection he could into you through sheer force of will.

Then you turned and walked into the Gate.

It was a nightmare.

The space inside was wrong in ways that made your previous Gates look like pleasant vacation destinations. Reality bent and twisted. Gravity was a suggestion. The monsters were horrible—not just ugly, but wrong on a fundamental level, like they'd been designed by something that hated the concept of life itself.

There were other SS-rank Espers with you, people you'd seen around the Bureau but never worked with. You fought together because you had to, because the alternative was dying alone.

You took hits. A lot of hits. A claw raked across your side and you felt ribs crack. Something with too many teeth bit into your shoulder and you had to blast it off, taking some of your own flesh with it. Your power was surging and spiking and you were using too much, you knew you were using too much, but the alternative was letting these things win.

An Esper next to you went down, their scream cutting off abruptly as a monster crushed them into the crystallized ground. You couldn't help them. You could barely help yourself.

You lost track of time. Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like minutes. Everything was pain and power and the slowly growing certainty that you might not make it out of this one.

But you fought. You and the other surviving Espers pushed forward, cleared the Gate section by section, destroyed the boss monster with combined attacks that left you all gasping.

The Gate shimmered and began to collapse.

You stumbled out.

Everything was blurry. Your vision was going dark at the edges. Everything burned—your muscles, your skin, your brain most of all. The familiar screaming was back but worse, louder, suggesting things that were increasingly divorced from reality. Your power was still surging out of control, eating you from the inside.

You saw red rushing toward you.

Lilia.

You collapsed directly onto him, your legs giving out. He caught you smoothly, his arms wrapping around you as he sank to the ground, sitting right there on the concrete and pulling you into his lap.

"I've got you," he said, and his hands were already on your face, your neck, trying to Guide you. "I've got you, just hold on—"

The relief came but it wasn't enough. You were too far gone, burned out too badly. You could feel him trying, feel the Guiding energy flowing into you, but it was like trying to fill an ocean with a cup. You were drowning and he couldn't pull you out fast enough.

You were struggling to breathe, to think, to exist. Your power was tearing you apart.

Lilia was starting to panic. You could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. His hands were shaking.

He kissed you.

It helped. The connection between you flared, stronger than just Guiding, and for a moment you could breathe again. But then it faded and you were drowning again, gasping.

"Bond with me," Lilia said, and his voice was desperate. "Right now. We need to bond. It's the only way—"

"No," you managed to choke out. You were lucid enough for that, at least. Lucid enough to know what you were refusing. "I don't—I can't hurt you—"

"You're not going to hurt me—"

"Someone else did—" You were crying now, tears streaming down your face mixing with blood and dirt. "I can't—I won't—"

"I'll be fine!" He grabbed your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him. His red eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I'll be FINE, so just bond with me! I can't lose you! Do you understand? I can't—" His voice broke. "Please. Please just trust me. I can handle it. Just don't leave me."

You were dying. You could feel it. Your consciousness was slipping, the screaming getting louder, your power about to tear you apart completely.

You kissed him hard, desperately, and opened yourself up completely.

The bond snapped into place.

It felt like lightning, like your soul recognizing his and reaching out and connecting in a way that was permanent and fundamental and absolute. You felt him gasp against your mouth, felt the bond solidify between you, felt his presence suddenly THERE in your mind in a way that was intimate and terrifying and perfect.

And then he Guided you.

It was different now. Stronger. The energy flowed between you effortlessly, naturally, like your minds had been designed to work together. The drowning feeling receded. The screaming stopped. Your power settled back into something manageable, controlled, safe.

You could breathe again.

And then you started sobbing.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, clinging to him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to—I didn't mean to make you—"

"Shh, it's fine—"

"It's not fine!" You were ugly crying now, snot and tears and complete emotional breakdown. "You were hurt before and I just—I forced you to—I made you bond with me and what if it hurts you again? What if you lose your powers again? What if—"

Lilia kissed you to shut you up.

It worked.

When he pulled back, his expression was firm. "I'm fine. Look at me. I'm fine." He was Guiding you still, the energy flowing smoothly between you through the bond. "It's okay because it's you. Do you understand? It's okay because I chose this."

You tried to respond but your brain was short-circuiting from the kiss and the bond and the emotional whiplash and everything.

"I—you—but—"

He looped his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest, and pulled out his phone with his free hand. "Want to see baby Malleus?"

Your brain stuttered. "What?"

He showed you a picture.

It was an egg.

Just an egg. A large egg with some scales on it, sitting in what looked like a very fancy cushioned nest.

You stared at it. Looked at Lilia. Looked back at the egg.

"That's an egg," you said, your voice still hitching from crying.

"That's baby Malleus," Lilia said proudly. "I raised him from an egg. Isn't he cute?"

The sheer absurdity of it broke through your panic. You started laughing—half hysterical, half genuine—because you'd just nearly died and bonded with your Guide and he was showing you baby pictures of Malleus that were literally just photos of an egg.

"There you are," Lilia said softly, squeezing your cheeks with one hand. His smile was gentle, affectionate. "Welcome back."

You buried your face in his neck, fresh tears starting but different ones now. Overwhelming emotion that you couldn't name.

He hugged you back immediately, his arms wrapping around you securely. You could feel him through the bond now—his presence warm and solid and real in your mind, his concern for you, his affection, his absolute lack of regret.

"I don't regret it," he murmured into your hair, like he could feel you worrying through the bond. "I promise. I don't regret any of it."

You held onto him tighter.

Around you, other Guides were still working with their Espers. Medical teams were arriving. Someone was trying to get your attention for medical assessment, but Lilia waved them off with a look that suggested they'd lose fingers if they tried to separate you right now.

You stayed there on the concrete, holding each other, bonded now in a way that was permanent and irreversible and absolutely terrifying and perfect.

"We're going to have so much paperwork," you mumbled into his neck.

Lilia laughed. "That's what you're worried about right now?"

"I'm worried about a lot of things right now. The paperwork is just the most manageable one."

"Fair enough." He pressed a kiss to your temple. "We'll handle it together."

Lilia had lost his Guiding a long time ago.

He used to be able to Guide Malleus and the others—back when Malleus was still learning control, when Silver was a rookie stumbling through his first Gates, when Sebek was even louder and more reckless than he was now. Lilia had been good at it. One of the best.

And then someone had tried to take that from him.

An Esper. Too far gone, mind fracturing from Gate residue and desperation. Powerful enough that restraining them had been nearly impossible.

They'd grabbed Lilia during what should have been a routine Guiding session and forced a bond—ripped their way into his psyche with all the subtlety of a battering ram, trying to anchor themselves to him, to use him as a lifeline.

It hadn't worked. Forced bonds never did.

But it had ruined his powers anyway. The damage was permanent, irreversible. His ability to Guide had been burned out of him like someone had taken a torch to his nerves. He'd tried for months afterward—touching other Espers, trying to help, desperate to feel that familiar flow of energy. Nothing. Just emptiness where his powers used to be.

He'd had to retire. No Guiding meant no fieldwork. No purpose. No reason to stay.

He'd been bitter for a long time after that. Angry at the Esper who'd done it, angry at himself for not seeing it coming, angry at the universe for taking away something so fundamental to who he was.

He'd traveled for a while, trying to outrun the feeling of uselessness that followed him everywhere. Seen places he'd never had time to visit before. Picked up hobbies that didn't involve risking his life.

Eventually, he'd accepted it. The anger had faded into resignation, then into something like peace. He couldn't Guide anymore. That was just reality now.

So he'd come back to help Malleus, Silver, and Sebek in other ways—tactical support, training consultation, moral support. He couldn't go into fieldwork anymore, couldn't be the Guide he used to be, but at least he could be present. Be useful in spirit, if not in practice.

And then he met you.

He'd been taking a shortcut through an alley—old habits from his traveling days—when he'd seen you. Slumped against a wall, clearly struggling, power crackling around you in unstable bursts. An Esper on the edge of losing control, probably unregistered based on how poorly you were managing your output.

He'd walked over to help you up. Just basic decency. Maybe point you toward the Bureau so you didn't accidentally explode yourself or the block.

He'd touched your shoulder.

And for the first time in years, his powers had worked.

The shock of it had nearly made him stumble. That familiar sensation of energy flowing through him, of being able to sense your distress and smooth it out, of Guiding actually working—it was like a limb he'd thought he'd lost suddenly remembering how to function.

You'd passed out immediately after, which was inconvenient but expected given how far gone you'd been.

Lilia had sat there staring at you, unconscious and drooling slightly on his jacket, and made an impulsive decision. He'd given you his number. Told you to call if you used your powers again.

He'd expected maybe one call. A follow-up to make sure you hadn't died.

You'd texted him an hour later because you'd set your apartment on fire trying to kill a spider.

You were funny. Very scatterbrained in an endearing way, rambling about groceries and library books when you panicked. You made him laugh more than he had in years.

But he'd also seen the pain in you. Even when you pretended everything was fine, even when you joked and deflected, he could tell you were alone. Isolating yourself out of fear. And it was taking a toll on you—he could see it in the way you held yourself, the careful distance you kept from everything and everyone.

So he'd taken you to a Gate. Showed you what you could have if you stopped running. Convinced you to join the Bureau, even though it meant paperwork and commitment and everything you'd been avoiding.

And then you'd begged him to join too. To be your Guide.

He'd been apprehensive. What if this was a fluke? What if his powers stopped working again after he got used to having them back? What if he bonded with you—even temporarily through regular Guiding—and lost everything again when it inevitably fell apart?

But he'd said yes anyway.

Because you had this strange magnetism that kept him coming back. This earnest, chaotic energy that made him want to be around you, to see what ridiculous thing you'd do next, to be part of whatever disaster you were stumbling into.

You were strange and funny and so full of life, even when you were trying to hide it.

You'd become friends with even Sebek, which was a feat Lilia hadn't thought possible. The boy barely tolerated most humans, but he'd grudgingly accepted you after you'd hidden behind Lilia enough times and yelled increasingly unhinged things when cornered.

You were understanding with Malleus, treating him like a person instead of the strongest Esper alive, listening to his gargoyle lectures with genuine interest. You took Silver's narcolepsy in stride, sometimes joining him for naps after particularly brutal training sessions.

You fit into their strange little family like you'd always been meant to be there.

Lilia had known he might be screwed when he found himself stepping in when other Guides tried to Guide you. Making excuses about compatibility and training consistency when really he just didn't want anyone else touching you, helping you, being the one you relied on.

At some point, without him noticing exactly when, he'd started considering you as his.

His Esper. His responsibility. His.

When you'd nervously asked him to the escape room, stumbling over your words and clearly panicking, he'd wanted you to confirm if it was a date. So he'd invited Malleus and Silver and Sebek, just to see what you'd do. To his delight, you'd taken it in stride and then asked him out properly the next time—direct and flustered and absolutely endearing.

The actual date had been lovely. Easy. Comfortable in a way Lilia hadn't felt in decades.

Until you'd mentioned bonding.

He'd felt his expression shut down, felt himself retreat into old defenses. The memories of forced bonding, of pain and violation and loss, had risen up like bile. He'd changed the subject because he didn't know how to explain it, didn't want to see your expression change from warm to pitying.

But you hadn't pushed. You hadn't asked about his past, about what had happened, about why he'd flinched. You'd just let it go. Made a joke about someone's terrible parking and held his hand tighter.

You were so kind about it. So understanding without needing explanations.

And Lilia had thought, with growing certainty, that you deserved better than him. Better than a centuries-old fae with baggage and trauma and a past he couldn't fully share.

That's why he'd asked if you were sure it was him you wanted.

You'd looked so offended. Like an angry chipmunk, all puffed up and indignant. You'd told him to shut up and kissed him, and he'd kissed you back because somewhere along the way you'd ruined everyone else for him. He couldn't imagine wanting anyone else. Couldn't imagine this working with anyone but you.

The weeks that followed had been good. Better than good. You made him laugh. You challenged him. You fit against his side like you belonged there. He'd started thinking in terms of "we" and "us" without noticing the shift.

And then that S-rank Gate had opened.

He'd felt fear for the first time in years when he'd seen you heading toward it. Real, bone-deep terror that he was going to lose you. That you'd go in and not come back out, or come back so broken he couldn't fix you.

He'd made you promise to come back. Tried to make it a joke about teaching you to park, but his voice had shaken.

When you'd stumbled out of that Gate, barely alive, eyes unfocused and power tearing you apart from the inside, Lilia hadn't hesitated.

He'd pulled you into his arms and tried to Guide you, but it wasn't enough. You were too far gone. Burning out in real-time while he watched helplessly.

The bond had been instinct. Necessity. The only way to create a connection strong enough to pull you back from the edge.

"Bond with me," he'd said, desperate and terrified.

And you'd refused.

Even dying, even barely conscious, you'd refused because you didn't want to hurt him. Because you knew what had happened to him before—or guessed enough of it—and you were trying to protect him even while your own mind was fracturing.

That had been the moment Lilia knew with absolute certainty: it would always be you.

You were dying and you were still being considerate of him. Still putting his wellbeing above your own. Still so fundamentally kind that even your survival instincts took a backseat to not causing him pain.

So he'd begged. Pleaded. Made you understand that losing you would hurt infinitely more than any bond ever could.

When you'd finally kissed him and opened yourself up to the bond, Lilia had felt it snap into place like coming home. Perfect compatibility. Perfect resonance. Like your souls had been designed to fit together.

The Guiding had flowed effortlessly after that. He'd pulled you back from the edge, stabilized you, kept you anchored while your power settled.

And then you'd started crying.

Apologizing for forcing him, for making him bond with you, for potentially hurting him. Breaking down completely while he held you.

It had broken his heart.

So he'd shown you the picture of egg Malleus—ridiculous and absurd and exactly the kind of thing that would break through your spiral. And it had worked. You'd laughed, bewildered and still crying, but laughing.

"There you are," he'd said, and meant it. There was the person he'd fallen for. Chaotic and earnest and coming back to him.

You'd buried your face in his neck and he'd held you close, feeling your presence solid and real in his mind now through the bond. Feeling your emotions—the guilt, the relief, the love that you hadn't said out loud yet but that resonated through the connection between you.

He'd promised you he didn't regret it.

He didn't.

This was different from before. That forced bond had been violation and pain and destruction. Whereas this was his choice. It is perfect compatibility that feels right in a way nothing else ever had.

He could feel you in his mind now—a constant awareness of your emotions, your wellbeing, your existence. It was intimate and terrifying and absolutely perfect.

Lilia hoped to be by your side for the rest of his life.

However long that would be—and for fae, that could be a very long time indeed—he wanted to spend it with you. Watching you grow stronger, more confident. Being there when you stumbled. Celebrating your victories. Making terrible jokes and showing you embarrassing photos of baby Malleus and teaching you to park even though you didn't have a car.

You'd changed everything for him. Given him back not just his powers, but his purpose.

He pressed another kiss to your temple, feeling you relax against him, and smiled.

Yes.

It would always be you.

For however long forever lasted, it would be you.

And Lilia had never been more certain of anything in his very long life.

You and Lilia were bonded now.

You could feel him in the back of your mind—a constant presence that was comforting instead of intrusive, like knowing someone was in the next room over.

His emotions bled through sometimes, little bursts of amusement or affection or mischief that let you know exactly what kind of trouble he was planning before he even opened his mouth.

He was as chaotic as the day you'd met him in that alley. More chaotic, even, because now he didn't have to hold back. He knew you could handle it. Knew you'd match his energy with your own brand of disaster.

You think you've never loved anything before him.

Sure, you'd loved things. Loved your family in that familial way. Loved certain foods, certain places, certain moments. But this was different.

This was waking up every morning and feeling grateful that he existed. This was looking at him across the room and feeling your chest get tight with how much you wanted to keep him. This was knowing, bone-deep, that you'd found something worth keeping.

He cooked food so scary it made you pray to gods you didn't believe in. You'd watched him create something he called "soup" that had moved on its own. He'd served it with a proud smile while you'd seriously considered whether eating it or hurting his feelings was the worse option.

You'd tried one bite and immediately understood why Sebek had looked haunted when you'd mentioned Lilia's cooking. Silver had actually woken up from a nap just to warn you not to eat it. Malleus had given you a solemn nod of respect like you were heading into battle.

You'd eaten it anyway because the smile on Lilia's face had been worth the stomach ache.

He loved teasing you. Would say something completely outrageous just to watch your face cycle through confusion, realization, and indignation. Would whisper the most absurd things during serious Bureau meetings just to watch you try not to laugh.

He loved pushing you to try harder during training. Not in the harsh way Sebek did, all yelling and criticism, but in the way that said "I know you can do better and I want to see you succeed."

He'd celebrate your victories like they were his own. Would pick you up when you failed and dust you off and make you try again.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

You were lying on the couch—well, your head was on his lap while he sat on the couch properly—watching him destroy people in some video game you didn't fully understand. His fingers moved rapidly over the controller, and you could feel his concentration through the bond, that sharp focus he got when he was in competition mode.

You were doomscrolling on your phone, looking at nothing in particular, just existing in his presence. Some article about Gate statistics. A video of a cat. A meme about Espers that was only funny if you actually were one. The comfortable silence of doing nothing together.

"GET WRECKED, YOU ABSOLUTE NOOB!" Lilia shouted at the screen, and you felt his glee through the bond. "YOUR AIM IS SO BAD I'M EMBARRASSED FOR YOU! DID YOU LEARN TO PLAY WITH YOUR FEET?!"

You snorted. "You're going to get reported for toxicity."

"They can report me all they want. I'm speaking truth." He landed another kill and cackled. "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR CAMPING, YOU COWARD!"

He glanced down at you, his expression softening immediately from competitive gremlin to something tender, and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"Your game wife is asking where you are," you say, stretching a little while looking at the screen. "She says you abandoned her at the altar. She's very upset."

"LISTEN JENNIFER, I TOLD YOU THIS WAS JUST FOR THE GUILD BENEFITS! I'M A LONE WOLF! I CAN'T BE TAMED!"

You could hear the other player's tinny voice through his headset, saying something angry.

"THAT'S VERY RUDE!" Lilia said, sounding delighted. "I'M REPORTING YOU FOR HARASSMENT! Yes, I know I killed you seven times! That's called SKILL, Jennifer!"

You laughed, feeling the vibration of his own laughter through his body. You could feel his joy through the bond—pure, chaotic delight at annoying strangers on the internet.

This was your life now. Bonded to a centuries-old fae who played video games like a toxic twelve-year-old and cooked food that violated the Geneva Convention and looked at you like you'd hung the stars.

You think there was no other place you'd rather be.

"I love you," you said, not looking up from your phone.

His hand stilled in your hair for a moment. Then through the bond, you felt it—a surge of warmth and affection so strong it almost made your chest hurt.

"I love you too," he said softly. Then, louder: "JENNIFER, I'M HAVING A MOMENT! CAN YOU STOP SHOOTING AT ME FOR FIVE SECONDS?! ...NO, I'M NOT GOING TO STOP CAPTURING THE ENEMY! THAT'S THE POINT OF THE GAME!"

You smiled and went back to your doomscrolling.

Yeah.

There was nowhere else you'd rather be.

Part 1

You shrug, brushing past him, attempting to put distance between you. “It worked. The patient’s stable. Nobody else batted an eye.”

“Yeah, because nobody else has a spine, apparently.” He grabs your arm before you can pass, spinning you back toward him. The intensity of his gaze is scorching. “I’m benching you.”

“What?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“You heard me. Triage for the rest of the day. You’re banned from doing anything remotely dangerous.”

His words ignite a surge of disbelief that quickly curdles into something more poisonous as the anger you’ve tried to suppress for days now boils up your throat. “Fuck you.”

His jaw hardens, and the quiet rage in his demeanour sharpens. “Don’t make me regret leaving in a week. I’ll bench you for the entire time I’m gone if I can't trust you to work without a babysitter.”

You glare at him, and for a moment, all the hurt and frustration—the unfinished tension between you, the words left unsaid, the way you broke things off to protect yourself—collides into an unbearable silence. The hallway feels too small for all of it. Questions that plague your restless nights resurface: Does he regret his decision to leave? Does he regret forcing your hand? Or does he regret what the two of you had in the first place? Because why else would he hide his plans if he wasn’t trying to distance himself from you?

He just chose the coward's way out—forced you to become the villain instead of him.

“Fine,” you snap, ripping your arm free from his grip. One week, and then he’s gone. You can survive that. Then you’ll pick up the pieces of your broken heart. “Triage, then. Happy?”

His gaze lingers on you, sharp and unyielding, but beneath the anger, there’s something that looks suspiciously like fear—not for himself, but for you. He’s worried you’re not thinking straight right now. But you can compartmentalise: you can keep your anger, hurt and disappointment in a locked compartment of your mind that you'll only open at home. It's himself he has to worry about.

Robby doesn't answer, but he lets you push past him this time.