#( thank you so much for taking a chance on us and i hope you have a lot of fun here !)

[miksanchismosa]

It is now almost 4 o’clock in the morning (VERY appropriate considering 🥹 in the extreme off chance you won’t know by the end of this post, Tae is my bias) and I’m feeling so many emotions I could sob. This is so beautiful and heart-wrenching (not for much longer I hope, tho the teaser for chapter 6 has me clutching my heart to make sure it’s still in one piece).

I do see from your blog that you are on hiatus, but i could not pass on telling you how much I enjoyed this story. I would love to be on the taglist once you return 🖤 (my main blog is @miksancheese but I don’t mind being tagged here as well). I’ve spent many nights up losing myself in ffs on this hellscape but I’m not sure I’ve read one that’s written Taehyung like you have. I fear just like the real Taehyung, you have made it that much harder for me to accept anything less a seemingly impossible standard. Men written by women are >>>. I am very happy I stumbled upon your blog and I cannot wait to dive further into your masterlist. Once I’m able to stop swimming in emotions from this doozy that is😵‍💫😂. The way you’re able to build tension and how you can write emotions so completely that they feel tangible is truly incredible. I think you’re incredibly talented and I hope that your hiatus is treating you well. I’ve seen a lot of content creators on this site face a lot of stress and struggle with their inspiration (and just the atmosphere of this site) and I just wanted to let you know that I feel incredibly lucky that you have chosen to share any of this with us FOR FREE to begin with. So thank you Ari 🖤

I would selfishly love to see you active again in 2025 at some point, but for now I hope you’re taking care of yourself and following inspiration where you can find it. Your love for writing is very evident from this story alone and I look forward to reading more from you in the future!

things we don’t say: masterlist (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon​

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (they’re so, SO stupid), slooooow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 54.5k (and counting)

series warnings: swearing, sexual themes, one instance of mild violence, alcohol use, infidelity, brief mentions of neglectful parents and alcoholism (additional warnings given by chapter)

a/n: the below reflects my current plan for the series, but this is subject to change as it is very likely that certain parts will be broken up!

Read on ao3 // moodboard // author masterlist

MAIN STORY

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 5.5 (interlude) (m)

Part 6 (TEASER) (coming soon!)

Part 7

Epilogue

DRABBLES: THE BEFORE

Drabble 1: in which OC has too much to drink

Drabble 2: your eyes tell

DRABBLES: THE AFTER

Drabble 1

Drabble 2

Drabble 3

Drabble 4

Drabble 5

Drabble 6

[c1nna1nmyr0ll]

Happy Accident?

Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: aphrodisiacs, nipple play, titty sucking, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, some pet names, and pulling out

a/n: one of my fav old fics teehee

Also, maybe consider signing up for the 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦!!

The special grade curse is notorious. Notorious for evading exorcism. It’s not even that strong. Its strength is more around semi-grade two, but its unique ability is considered a special grade. Its special ability is emitting a gas that causes the victim to lose their cognitive functions making the curse able to kill the sorcerer or the curse flees.

“I’m surprised that we are both tasked with this mission, Fushiguro,” you say as Ijichi drives you and Fushiguro to where the curse resides.

“I think they don’t want to take any chances,” Fushiguro responds. “That if one of us is hit with the gas, the other can cover.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you agree.

“Has Gojo fought this curse at all?” Fushiguro asks Ijichi.

“Not that I know of,” Ijichi replies.

“Figures,” Fushiguro scoffs.

“I’m sure you two will do just fine,” Ijichi says.

“Thanks, Ijichi,” you say. “We’ll try our best.”

After a few more minutes of the car ride, Ijichi finally gets you and Fushiguro at the curse’s hideout. An old abandoned house. You and Fushiguro get more of the rundown from Ijichi; after Ijichi sets up the barrier, you and Fushiguro head inside.

As expected, the house is dark, creepy, and dusty. Just clichés all around. As you’re trying to swat at a spiderweb in a doorway, Fushiguro speaks up behind you.

“Make sure to keep your guard up,” he says.

“Right, I will,” you respond.

“The curse could ambush us at any time,” Fushiguro continues.

“Right, yeah,” you say. Hearing his voice behind you certainly was a pleasant surprise.

“I’m gonna summon my demon dog to make sure the curse doesn’t ambush us,” Fushiguro says and maneuvers his hands into a dog shape.

“Good idea,” you say. His demon dog appears before you, and it’s already picked up a scent. You and Fushiguro follow the dog to the house’s attic, where a smaller curse is hiding. It’s definitely not the curse you’re looking for. The demon dog eats it as you and Fushiguro stand at the doorway leading to the stairs.

“Demon dog should have picked up the scent of the special grade,” Fushiguro explains. “So why didn’t he?”

“Maybe this curse has a much more powerful scent?” you suggest.

“That can’t be. If that were the case, then this curse would be stronger than the special grade,” Fushiguro looks to the demon dog finishing up the curse. You follow your eyes to the demon dog as well.

“Y/N! Look out!” you hear Fushiguro shout as he pushes you away and into a wall. You collide with the wall hard, and Fushiguro’s demon dog joins your side as the special grade curse appears.

“Fushiguro!” you shout, but the special grade has already begun to spray its gas on Fushiguro. So you and the demon dog take the opportunity to attack the curse while it’s busy with Fushiguro. You and the demon dog use your cursed energy to take down the curse.

You manage to injure the curse before it disappears into the floor and gets away. However, before you try to go after the curse, you look at Fushiguro, who is sitting on the floor, covering his eyes.

“Fushiguro, are you alright?” you lower yourself, so you’re face to face. “Lemme see if you’re injured.”

“I-I’m fine,” he says. “Just go after the curse. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. He backs away from you, and you don’t want to upset him, so you follow his instructions. “I’ll be right back.” You and the demon dog run down the stairs to take care of the curse leaving Fushiguro.

“Shit. I hope my cursed energy doesn’t…” Fushiguro feels how hot he’s getting. “Fuck.” The blush on his face is getting stronger as well. “So, this is what the curse’s ability is.”

You and the demon dog corner the curse and exorcise it quickly. You’re pretty shocked at how weak the curse actually was, but you’re guessing the gas Fushiguro was hit with is no joke.

You run back up the stairs as the demon dog finishes snacking on the curse. Fushiguro’s in the same position you left him.

“Oh, Fushiguro,” you start and sit beside him. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says simply. “Let’s report to Ijichi and get out of here.” You nod and follow him out. You notice he’s not acting like himself. He seems to be…slightly nervous. His hands are a little shaky, and he’s a bit quieter. What kind of gas was he hit with?

You pull out your cell phone when you’re outside and call up Ijichi.

“Hello? Ijichi speaking,” Ijichi answers.

“Hey, it’s Y/N,” you say.

“Oh, hello! Not any trouble, I hope?” he asks.

“Well, we finished off the curse, and we’re just outside waiting,” you explain.

“Oh, good,” he says.

“But Fushiguro was hit with the curse’s gas? Is he going to be okay?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah, he should be okay, but the effects last a while,” Ijichi explains. “How is he?”

“Well, he seems to be okay, not injured at least,” you tell Ijichi.

“Good,” Ijichi says. “Oh, uh, I can’t pick you guys up until tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” you ask.

“There are some sorcerers who need my help,” Ijichi explains.

“Alright, well, good luck,” you say.

“Thank you,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’ll pick you guys up first thing tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you say. Then, finally, you and Ijichi say your goodbyes, and you hang up the phone.

“So?” Fushiguro asks.

“Well, you’re going to feel the effects of the gas for a while,” you start. Fushiguro looks upset and annoyed. “And Ijichi can’t pick us up until tomorrow.” An even worse Fushiguro Megumi annoyed face.

“Great,” he says sarcastically.

“So, I guess we should go to a hotel,” you suggest.

“Whoa, wait, what?” he asks. His nervousness is very apparent now.

“Well, we need somewhere to stay for the night. It’s already getting kind of late,” you explain to him. But, seriously, what’s up with him?

You find a hotel that’s close and within walking distance, so you and Fushiguro decide you’ll stay there. You hear his breath get heavy, and his cheeks are red. Maybe the curse gave him a fever?

When you get to the hotel, the place already looks busy as hell. People are coming and going in the lobby all around. You stumble close to Fushiguro, who tenses up when he feels you touch his chest. You apologize profusely and come to the front desk of the hotel. The lady at the front desk greets you cheerfully.

“Hello, checking in?” she asks.

“Uh, yes, could we have two rooms, please?” you ask. The front desk lady checks on the hotel computer for any room openings. You see her cringe at the results. That can’t be good.

“Unfortunately, we only have one room available,” she says.

“Oh,” you mutter. “I guess it’ll be fine for one night.” She cringes again.

“It’s a one-bedroom,” she finishes. “Meaning there’s only one bed.”

“Oh,” you mutter again. “Well, since it’s the only room available, we’ll take that one.”

“Very good,” she says. “And how will you be paying?”

“With this,” you pull out the credit card that Gojo gave you for “Jujutsu Emergencies.” You hand her the credit card, and she takes it. Then, after processing the payment, she hands the card back to you.

“Enjoy your stay,” she says.

“Thanks,” you and Fushiguro both say.

When you open the room door, the front desk lady isn’t joking around; there really is only one bed.

“Well, I’m going to get some sleep,” Fushiguro says. He begins walking towards the bed, but you stop him with your hand on his wrist.

“Wait, Fushiguro,” you say. He tenses from your touch again. “I think you should try to get your fever down. Your face is still really red, and you’re all warm.” He doesn’t say anything. “Uh, maybe take a cold shower? It could bring it down.”

“Fine,” he says simply. He stalks over to the bathroom, and you hear the shower begin to run.

You figure you’ll wait for him to be done so you can make absolutely sure that his fever went down. About 10 minutes later, Fushiguro enters the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight flusters you, and you immediately look away from him. The last thing Fushiguro expected was you sitting on the bed, not sleeping already.

“So, are you feeling better?” you ask.

“Yeah, more or less,” he answers.

“Good, good,” you say, still averting your eyes from him. Finally, Fushiguro begins to put on his clothing, so you don’t have to keep averting your eyes after he’s dressed; you and he undo the covers and climb into bed.

You both face each other and notice his face is still pretty red. And just from how close he is, he’s still warm too. So you lean your forehead against his and close your eyes trying to feel his temperature.

“I don’t think that got your fever down at all, Fushiguro,” you say. Then, you open your eyes you see Fushiguro looking at you. It really flusters you.

You’re not sure why but you find yourself leaning toward him again with a different intention. Fushiguro stops you from leaning; instead, he gets on top of you. You yelp in surprise, and he smirks as he sees your surprise.

“That face looks cute on you, Y/N,” he says. “And I like it when it’s under me.”

He leans down, and he finally kisses you. God, you’ve wanted him to kiss you for so long. You clutch at his black hair as his hands are on your hips. You open your mouth to him eagerly as he traces his tongue along your lips.

Fushiguro moves his mouth to your neck and begins to suck dark marks onto it.

“Mm, Fushiguro,” you hum. He lets go of your neck with a pop to look at you.

“Call me by my first name,” he says.

“Huh?” you utter. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks at you.

“Call me Megumi,” he commands.

“Y-yes, Megumi,” you oblige. He returns to your neck and sucks harder on it as you squirm under him. His hands move to your chest as he touches your breasts while they’re still clothed. “Please touch me, Megumi.”

“Where?” he asks.

“Anywhere; I just need to feel you,” you beg.

“Alright,” he says. He slips off your shirt and bra, tossing them on the floor. He wastes no time latching his mouth and hands on your breasts. His tongue swirls around your right nipple while his hand tweaks the left one.

“Ah! Mm, Megumi,” you moan. He sucks your nipple as your back arches to meet his mouth. Then, he switches to sucking on your left nipple instead, and he gets the same reaction out of you.

After he’s satisfied, he returns to kissing you again and begins to take off your pants. He breaks the kiss as he looks down at your panties.

“You’re so wet already,” he says. Megumi removes his shirt and tosses it alongside your decarded clothing. “Want me to use my fingers?”

“Yes, god, please,” you beg. He smirks from hearing you beg for him. Then, he removes your panties and dives his fingers into your cunt. You moan out from the feeling of his fingers inside you.

Megumi scissors his fingers inside you, stretching you out. Your walls already start to clamp down around Megumi’s fingers.

“Jesus, you’re already clamping down on my fingers,” he says. “Guess I should hurry and make you cum.”

Megumi begins to thrust his fingers into you and picks a fast pace. You close your eyes and throw your head back on the pillow. His palm bumps at your clit, and your brow knit together as you feel your orgasm already building.

“Ah! M-Megumi, don’t stop!” you shout. Megumi continues his fast pace, and you hear your juices squelch as he curls his fingers inside you. You feel your cunt sucking in his fingers. After a few more finger thrusts, you cum on Megumi’s fingers.

He brings his fingers up and sees how soaked his fingers are from your essence.

“Clean them off,” Megumi commands and brings his fingers to your lips. You immediately take the digits into your mouth and swirl your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

Once you’re done, Megumi drags his fingers out of your mouth and looks down at you.

“What do you want me to do now?” he asks you.

“Please fuck me, Megumi,” you plea. He smirks once again and takes off his pants and boxers. He once again discards them to be with the other clothing.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he asks.

“I don’t care, just fuck me,” you practically shout. He obliges and grabs your thighs and forces them apart. Your cunt is all ready for him.

Megumi lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes himself in. Your breath hitches from his cock, stretching you out, and Megumi groans from the sensation. He sets a slow pace so you can get used to his length. His hands tug at your sides as he tries to contain himself. He doesn’t want to hurt you. With each of Megumi’s thrusts, you get more used to his cock.

“M-Megumi, you can go faster,” you say. He grips your hips tightly and begins fucking himself into you. You moan as he reaches your spongy spot with his thrusts. Your back arches again, but Megumi slams you back down with his hands. You thread your hands in the sheets as Megumi continues to use your pussy. Your walls clench down on his throbbing dick.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me,” Megumi mumbles. He thrusts into you harder and faster as he chases his own high.

“Ah! Me-Megumi!” you moan. “‘M cumming again!” Your abdomen coil swiftly unravels as you cum on Megumi’s cock.

“Fuck, you came on my cock, baby,” he says. “Shit, that’s hot.” He pulls out of your pussy, strokes himself, and cums all over your chest. Your chest heaves as Megumi looks at you, covered in his cum. A look he’s decided he loves. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize; I like being covered in your cum,” you admit.

═──────────◇──────────═

When you wake up, you look at the side night table and see that you have four missed calls from Ijichi and several texts from him. Oh shit, you’re dead.

You and Megumi swiftly get dressed and run to meet Ijichi, who looks worried sick. You both apologize and get into his car, ready to head back to home base.

“So, Fushiguro, how are you doing? Are you still feeling the side effects of the curse?” Ijichi asks.

“No, I took care of it,” Megumi says.

“Huh? But you still had your fever for a bit,” you say.

“Fever?” Ijichi laughs. “No, no. The curse gives off an aphrodisiac-type gas.”

“Huh? What? Really?” you ask.

“Oh, did we not tell you?” Ijichi asks.

“No, you didn’t,” you aren’t sure how to feel about this information. “But that does explain some things.”

“How did you handle the curse’s power? No one has been able to do that,” Ijichi asks Megumi. You become flustered as you realize the circumstances of Megumi’s behavior the previous night.

“I just relied on my partner, that’s all,” Megumi answers simply.

“Huh, I didn’t expect that,” Ijichi mumbles to himself.

“Uh, Megumi,” you say quietly so only he can hear. “Does that mean that last night was…”

“The aphrodisiac only made me more frustrated and, well, later confident,” he explains. “I meant all the things I said and did.”

“Me too,” you say.

“Well, it’s lucky things turned out the way they did,” Ijichi suddenly speaks up.

“Yeah, lucky,” you agree.

“That’s one way to put it, I guess,” Megumi says.

© c1nna1nmyr0ll 2024, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, use for ai, copy, translate, or repost my content on any platform. comments, reblogs, and likes are loved

[s1lu3s]

WELL-DESERVED REST, zayne.

warnings: suggestive content +18, oral (fem receiving), masturbation. pairing: zayne x y/n notes: GUYYSS OMGGG WE REACHED THE 150 NOTES WHAT THE HELL?! i also wanna thank you for all the reblogs 😭🩵 just wanted to thank you very much, this means a lot for me, bc i honestly thought that i would never reach something like this sooo in order to celebrate, i write this one about our lovely doctor, hope u enjoy it the same as the rest <3 credits for the banner of mdni to roseschoices.

Christmas was always a very bad time to visit Zayne at work. No matter what time of year it is, no one stops having incidents because of it. In spite of everything, you don't stop going there to see him so he can rest even if it's just for a few minutes.

Your poor boyfriend has to deal with all kinds of people and you just want to make his workday a little more pleasant. So you take the bag of food from his favorite restaurant, add the dessert from the best place where they make the best popsicles and leave it on the passenger seat.

Today you wanted to surprise Zayne with a nice dinner even though he told you to stay home because of the cold weather. But you can't sit still and do nothing when he's going to work day and night no matter when it's his shift.

So you park your car on a street a little further back from the hospital so he won't see it and walk over there. Since you warned Greyson about your plans, he gave you just this once a key to enter by the back door of the hospital, which can only be used by the staff. You would return it to him. Or not, if Zayne continues to work the same way as he is. 

When you finish climbing the eight flights of stairs, you end up with irregular breathing. Instead of using the elevator, you've had to use the only alternative left to avoid all chances of your boyfriend seeing you here. But it will be worth it, you assure yourself, because you plan to have this Christmas dinner even if it's not at home. 

So before knocking on his office door you finish controlling your breathing, stretch your back and tie your hair up to give it some grace and movement. You knock a couple of times and manage to hear a low “come in” before you cross the threshold of the door and close it by subtly turning the knob.

“Merry Christmas, Dr. Zayne.” Just the first of your words was enough for him to recognize you and raise his head from the pile of papers scattered on his desk. It must have been a very hard day for him to have his desk like this.

You observe without saying anything about his reaction and how he frowns when you place the bag with the food on one of the chairs in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks in his usual dry tone.

“Can't I bring dinner to my boyfriend? “You bite your lip as you approach his chair. “Besides, I also brought your favorite dessert.” You smile playfully, pointing to the bag with the popsicles.

“I expressly told you not to come.” He replies warily, not taking his disapproving gaze away as you settle in and give him a small kiss on the cheek.

“And are you going to do anything about it, Dr. Zayne?” You bring your lips to his as you start playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“For the moment, I don't know. You like being close to the edge too much, though.

“What can I say, anything to help my boyfriend unwind from work.” You chuckle.

“Hum.” He sighs, as he rests his head on your chest and moves his arms over your thighs, tightening his grip on you. He lingers a few seconds too long, breathing on your breasts and spreading his soft breath through the thin fabric of the dress you wear. You feel your nipples perky.

“Zayne?” You call out, but he ignores you. He slides his hands down your legs to your buttocks. Your breathing hitches and you feel your pulse quicken. “Don't y-you want to have dinner?”

“I don't have that kind of hunger right now.” He replies flatly, as he stands up with you in his arms, pushing the contents of the table aside, “Or you prefer not to continue?”

You know from the gaze he gives you that you are incapable of saying no to him. Not when his eyes yearn to devour you and even less when you have him like this, caressing your skin.

“It 's okay.” You answer breathlessly, especially when his hands rest on your knees and he gently spreads your legs to slip between them.

“What am I going to do with you?” He sinks his head into the crook of your neck, smelling your vanilla scent.

He moves one of his hands from your hip to your back to unzip your dress. The fabric slides gracefully down your skin, leaving you naked from the torso. He helps you finally remove the dress, which falls to the floor.

And you're left in heels with your underwear.  

“I should deny you this, because it's not the first time you've completely disregarded what I tell you.”He whispers, kissing your neck and tightening his grip on your thighs.

The only thing you are able to hear is his heavy breathing and your heartbeat, sure that he is able to hear them too.

“But in turn, I should reward you with it, because if not for you, my life would have become an absolute mess.”

He pulls the thong up, rubbing against your already wet slit. You sigh in anticipation, clinging to his shoulders.

“Zayne…”

He unties your bra and pulls it back. His mouth moves down to one of your nipples. He circles it with his tongue and bites down gently. He kisses it again before turning his gaze back to you.

“It's impossible for me to keep my hands off you. Especially if you look this... tasty.”

He wraps the edges of the thong around his fingers and pushes down slowly. Your skin bristles and you shiver from the cold. He has once again let out his Evol. 

“So... what should I do?” He stammers. His husky voice makes you even wetter if that's possible. “You don't say anything now?”

He rests his hands behind you, making you lean back slightly.

“I guess as long as you put work aside, anything's fine for me.” Is the only witty reply you can think of.

Zayne smiles slyly at your failed sarcastic comment.

“You're damn stubborn... You know that, don't you?”

You just giggle.

“You still like me though.” He looks back at you.

“You do.” He offers, before kissing your shoulder again and bending down to you. Kissing and licking your skin, Zayne crouches down before you. He holds your left leg and continues to leave a trail of wet kisses down to your knee.

You sigh, throwing your head back.

You don't even dare to move a muscle when Zayne finally slides his tongue shallowly over your needy slit. Her warm breath moistens it even more, something that makes you shudder and makes your stomach tingle slightly.

“Don't forget to breathe, darling.” He smirks condescendingly, holding your leg tighter. You blush more.

His gaze meets yours before he runs his tongue along your folds again, this time going over you thoroughly from top to bottom.

A sweet moan escapes your lips as he continues to devour you relentlessly. He thrusts his tongue as far in as possible, teasing you and turning you on more as he makes room at your entrance and plays with it. Your thighs are trembling, so he spreads your legs wider and immobilizes you so he can taste you better.

“Z-Zayne...” You babble senselessly. The heat of his mouth on you consumes you in the most exquisite way. You arch your back and press his face to you, pulling at his hair.

“I like order, but seeing the chaos in you every time you're about to come is absolutely awesome.” He looks at you with a look of adoration and devotion in his eyes that makes you tender. He kisses your inner thigh and his mouth comes back to rest on your clit, circling and caressing it. His torrid tongue finds its way into your folds and continues to lick, up and down, without pause, but either not as quickly.

You gasp again as he inserts two of his fingers and begins scissoring them. You feel yourself getting more and more on edge and along with it, Zayne's mouth keeps licking everything you give him.

“Your taste is so addictive... so sweet.” He dives back between your thighs, sucking, licking and feeling you cling tightly to his fingers.

“P-please...” You whisper. You feel your vision blur as he continues to push his fingers and rub your clit delicately.

Your consciousness becomes fuzzy as you are caressed and filled. So you feel somewhat empty as he pulls his fingers out of you, licks them and looks at you with his desire-filled eyes.

“Forget about the damn popsicles. You are definitely my new favorite dessert.”

[unluckilyimnot]

Okay, but bonten with like a SUPER soft gf. Like, we talk like cry on every sad movie ivies with an animal to be specific). Takes things other says to heart. Often like cry over small things and stops to pet EVERY single animal she sees.

Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel like doing this one 😭 I know it’s lowkey weird.

Bonten with a soft gf!

Characters: rindou, ran, kaku, mikey, sanzu, kokonoi

fluff / no tw / wc: 900+

Note : no way it's so cute don't ever worry !! I love it, thank you sm ! I dispatched it between all the characters. I hope it's fine.

m.list | rules

Rindou never minded more than that the fact that you cry a lot. He loves it a lot and it makes him chuckle and laugh more than anything else. He's always there to wipe your tears away when you cry when the dog dies in the movies, or when you tear up at any inconveniences. You wear your heart on your sleeve, you're sensible, the opposite of him, and he cares and loves you for that.

Yet he's the first one to draw a radical line the second you get hurt, in any way, by someone. It's silly and fun until some abuse it and use it against you or to hurt you. He will find who did this, who made you cry and will burn their house down.

Sanzu sighs a lot when you decide something was wrong when he, in fact, didn't care. Yet his heart always skips a beat when he hears you speaking louder than you usually do, mad at people treating him poorly. He listens to you for a while before he finally steps in and holds your hands when he's feeling cheesy, or your elbows when he's a bit tired or high.

"Babe, it's really nothing. Don't worry yourself like that, you'll get wrinkles." He honestly makes you laugh every time, or at least confort you that he doesn't care about anyone's opinion besides yours. And oh how much you love and care for him everyday, he can't even doubt it. He wished you'd stop hurting yourself over things like this, but recognize that your sweet nature is definitely what he loves the most about you.

Ran laughs at you when you get offended for nothing. It can be about something going your way to work to you spiking your coffee on the counter. It's his own comic relief of the day when you're stroming around, a deep frown on your face making you look like a small, angry animal but still defenseless. His laughter always makes it worse, without mentioning his venom filled remarques, to make fun of your overreacting nature. To the point you can cry and not speak to him for hours – but for sure mentioning it all to Rindou.

Ran hates it when you team up with him, because you wouldn't talk to him but Rindou would, on the other hand, mention you and everything you told him to Ran. He's always making the first step to you and apologizing with probably a hundred wroth bouquet and your favorite snacks – promising you he'll never do it again, when he will most certainly do it again.

Seeing you enjoying small things about life is the reason why Mikey kept you around at first, you reminded him of his younger self and his friends at that time. Every time you stop to pet a stranger's dog, a small smile shows on his lips, one you rarely get to see even if you're always the reason for it.

You listen to him so carefully the few times he does talk to you, it makes him feel alive again. You're doing most of the talking and you're always so sorry to take this kich when that's what he loves about you. He makes sure to tell you that he likes it from time to time, just to be sure you won't stop. Your heart is so soft and warm, welcoming him every time you see him again with new facts you learn and an unconditional love that overflows everywhere, and he gets the chance to be showered with it every time.

Kokonoi gets used to you stopping all the time the second you catch the glimpse of a stay animal. So he instinctively adds ten minutes to every trip you two have to do, even if it's only to walk to his car because there's a few stray cats in the parking lot and he's sure you're gonna stop or even wait for them to walk out from their hide spot.

But he just can't bring himself to get impatient when your eyes light up at the sight of the small cats. The way you jolt in joy when their cold nose finally touches your hand, and you look up to him with the softest smile he ever had the chance to witness. Yes, you're usually late, but he just had to snap a picture of you with the white kitten and everyone is accepting the fact that those ten minutes of your happiness are worth the delayed meetings.

Kakucho's always there to rub your back when you cry in front of a movie. He never sees why you cry particularly, but always listen thoughtfully to what you have to say about it. He brings you tissues, sometimes even wipes your nose for you and lets you dive into his arms when a character you like dies. He can't help but tell himself how sensible you are every time, but also how he loves that. You bring him back to his human nature and what it is to be emphatic about normal things, far from his rough life where his life is at risk every time he steps outside the door.

To that, he hopes he'll never be the reason for your tears, and that he'll always be there to wipe them away and shush you down.

Sorry its rather short, tell me if you want a particular hc with one or a whole os.

Let me know if you liked it !

[staytinyville]

WHAT'S THIS?

↣ Summary: You were always different from those of Christmas Town. Something was missing inside of you that you needed to find. Have you possibly gone daffy?

↣ Characters/Pairing: Ragdoll!Hongjoong x Elf!Reader

↣ Genre: Smut, fluff

↣ AU/Trope info: Nightmare Before Christmas!AU, Monster!Au, Jacob’s ladder deal with penis, 

↣ Word Count:

↣ Warnings: Soft sex, Christmas/Halloween Fluff, love at first sight

↣ A/N: To the ever great @catkyunie for Secret Santa. I had another thing planned but ultimately decided on this because I watched the movie four times in a weekend. I love the soundtrack so much man. Also I’ve had the idea to make a Nightmare Before Christmas AU for a while now but it wasn’t this story exactly. I love the movie so much so I hope it comes out as well I hope it did. 

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @cromernet , @pirateeznet , @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

Never go near the Holiday Trees. 

For as long as one could remember, the elves were told that. It was centuries ago when the rule was brought up after a very troublesome Halloween town citizen decided they wanted to take over Christmas. 

Things have changed–the children have changed. There was no better holiday compared to the rest. Each person had their favorite, and so the ones in charge didn’t bother with the other holidays for fear of being less than happy. 

But that didn’t mean those who were in charge of the holidays still couldn’t feel as though there was something missing within themselves. 

You could hear the soft crunch of your reindeer companion following behind you, bleating small sounds as it found berries and grass to eat. It happily continued to munch while you frowned deeply at the prospect of walking through a foot of snow. 

It bothered you. You could see how all the other elves were easily able to navigate themselves through the snow on light feet–not sinking down to end up buried in it. It was your fault, you figured. Not having the simple little magic everyone else had. 

You couldn’t make toys. Couldn’t bring joy to the children who you had to watch over every once in a while. You couldn’t even make cookies that somehow every elf knew how to make from scratch. You were the odd ball in the town full of ridiculously happy citizens that mocked you every chance they could. 

Well, maybe they didn’t mock you because that would be very naughty of them. But you did feel bad everytime they tried to teach you something and you just couldn’t get it. There was something missing. And year after year, it hurt to see Christmas come and go without your help. 

Your ears twitch as you trudge through the thick snow trying to find more pine cones to fill your family tree with. You were wrapped in double scarves, your ears and nose covered. The snow was thinning out the further in you went and by then your legs were so tired you were half tempted to fall over into the snow to rest for a moment. 

You sniffled, nose starting to run but you used your sleeve to brush it away. By the time you realized it, the snow had cleared completely all of a sudden which caused you to trip over your own feet and fall flat onto the forest floor. 

“Oof.” You groaned, shuffling out of the snowy area and onto the dirt. 

Pine needles stuck to your face as you shuffled yourself to stand up, coming to sit on your knees and look around the clearing. 

You felt a shiver go through your body as you stared up at the tree that had a large pumpkin door on its trunk. You glanced around for a moment more, seeing the rest of the holiday doors waiting for someone to open them. You finally got up onto your legs, the jingle bells on your feet and hat making a sound each time you moved. 

You knew exactly where you were and found it odd that you were even here. The location of these trees are only known to the Claus’s, so to be able to reach this place was something you couldn’t fathom. 

Each door was different from the last. Some brighter than others while some just seemed so plain. The pumpkin with the large grin stared back at you as you reached it last. It’s smile was dark, almost a pitch black that had you losing yourself within it. Each jagged edge looked like it would prick you if you dared to touch it. 

And yet you still found yourself reaching for the door knob nose, muscles straining just a bit as the knob seemed stuck for a moment. But it finally moved after a moment, startling you with how easy it was to pull the door open.

It was even darker inside, a gust of wind blowing through causing red and orange leaves to fall out. Your nose crinkled at the smell of black licorice. But you still stuck your head further in, trying to make out something inside the abyss of the tree. 

Suddenly you could hear a humming. A sound that went together to form some kind of lullaby that almost put you to sleep. You strained your ears to hear more of it, trying to make out the words. 

“Sometimes you gotta move forward. Just take it step by step. And then you’ll notice you’ve found your place…”

Just a bit more, you told yourself, moving closer. 

Just a bit more ended up being too much though. Before you realized it, your little jingle bells tinkled one last time before everything turned black. 

It was a whirlwind of bright lights and empty space that you felt like you were floating in. Gravity did not exist as you fell. You wanted to grab onto something but the only thing it seemed like you could do was scream into the void. 

It was a quick journey. Not even half a minute as you felt a force suddenly drag you towards a direction. Your back hit against a surface before it vanished and you fell through. You let out a loud gasp, bright colors filling your vision as you were thrown into a much warmer place.

Before you tumbled onto the floor, you quickly caught sight of the sharp edges of a christmas tree shape on the trunk of a tree. You rolled over, grunting as you landed on your back, your legs falling down quickly and your body becoming exhausted. 

You took in a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. It was a bit but you slowly allowed yourself to feel the ground around you trying to make sure you were in fact on some kind of surface. 

Turning your head from side to side, you noticed you were back in the clearing of holiday trees. Only this time there was no Halloween one. Raising slowly to sit up, you took notice of how there was no snow covering the ground or pine trees that were losing needles. 

Instead the trees were barren almost, the leaves left on the branches ranging from a yellow to brown color. Most of them seemed to be on the floor, waiting to be picked up. 

There was a sudden squirming feeling under your legs, like an animal was trying to get out from under you. You frowned, scooting back and pulling your knees up to grab at whatever it was. It wasn’t furry, nor was it that large. It wiggled around, your eyebrows pinching together as you felt multiple limbs. 

“What’s this?” You asked yourself, pulling the object out from under you. 

When you finally grasped it fully, your eyes went wide as it suddenly grabbed ahold of your hand. Pulling it out, the thing hanging from your hand was another hand. However it was severed at the wrist. 

“Oh my Kringle!” You screamed, throwing the hand away from you. 

You gasped louder as it began to wiggle and suddenly upright itself. It scurried away behind a tree, catching your attention as something seemed to bend down to grab it. Whatever it was shuffled back from view, their foot being the last to be hidden. 

Tilting your head in confusion you realized it was a person who was standing on the other side. The voice you heard earlier was suddenly starting to make sense, so you gradually became more curious. 

“I know you’re there.” You called out, crawling closer to the tree. 

You sighed when they didn’t move nor say anything. You thought to yourself for a moment, thinking back to how the person singing felt so sad. 

“The song you were singing–are you okay?”

“Of course I am.” They quickly spoke up. 

Your eyebrows shot up, smiling to yourself that you got them to speak. “It didn’t sound like you were.” You continued. “Are you going to come out?”

“You are not from Halloween Town.” He told you. 

“I’m from Christmas Town.” You shook your head, the bells jingling from the top of your hat. “A bit much isn’t it?” You giggled, wiggling your feet with the same bells. 

He scoffed playfully. “Just a bit.” 

“You have an amazing voice. I wish to hear more of it, please.” You crawled closer to the tree. “Will you please come out?” 

You could hear them shuffling around in contemplation. It took a moment but slowly they walked out one foot after the other. It was something out of a fairytale seeing him for the first time. 

You began to hum for some reason, hearing the ring of a jingle bell go off in your ear. He was deliberate in the way he walked. He was careful, but still it looked graceful. The first thing that caught your attention though, were the stitches that stretched across his mouth. 

“You’re stitches–do they hurt?” You asked quietly, coming to a stand. 

You walked closer to him, hands twitching at your side as you wanted to reach up and touch him. 

“No.” He spoke up, watching you intently. 

You raised your hands, moving them closer to his face. But you caught yourself, stopping as you realized it would be rude to just touch him. 

“May I?’ You asked quietly, waiting for his reply. 

He looked down at your raised hands, your curious eyes on his scars. “Sure.”

You lightly skimmed your fingers across his mouth. The tips of your longer fingers touched at his lips while they moved across the bumpy patches. You were scared of hurting him, so you didn’t try pressing them harder into his skin when your curiosity peaked at how the skin parted and created a hole. You wondered if they would open up, your hand passing through his cheek. 

When you looked up at his eyes, you found him staring at something near the side of your head. Your large pointed ears twitched at his stare, causing him to flinch just the tiniest bits. His hands shook at his side, almost coming up. 

“You can go ahead.” You told him, moving your head to the side to allow him the space to touch your ears. 

He tentatively reached up, fingers grazing the shell of your ear just as yours touched his stitches. He started at the bottom before smoothly gliding upwards. It wasn’t until they began to touch the tips of your ears that you suddenly felt a shiver go down your spine. 

You let out a tiny gasp, eyes fluttering shut as your lips pressed together. He suddenly pulled back from you, your own hand falling from his face. 

“Sorry.” He quickly said, waiting for your reply. 

“It’s okay.” You beamed up at him. “They’re just sensitive.”

“Hongjoong!”

Both of you suddenly turned around, hearing the call. 

The man’s eyes went wide, suddenly grabbing you and pushing you back towards the Christmas Tree. 

“You have to go.”

“What? Why?” You questioned, looking around trying to find whoever had called.

“You are not supposed to be here. We are not supposed to go to other holidays.”

He continued, opening the door and about to shove you through until you stopped yourself. 

“But–your singing.” You quietly said. “I really loved it.”

He paused, lips pressing together. His eyes twinkled almost, as if he could he would be blushing from your compliment. 

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He told you softly. 

“Joong!” 

You suddenly turned around, ready to be pushed back into the tree but you had something to ask him first. 

“You have to go now.”

“Will I see you again?” You asked, hoping he would say yes. 

He seemed stunned for a moment, looking back to where the sound of rustling leaves were heard. 

“Come tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

Your lips pulled up into a smile, feeling something warm fill your chest. Just as someone was about to enter the clearing, you felt the suction of the tree pulling you back in. 

“Goodbye.” You heard one last moment before falling. 

**

“Oh he was amazing, Mrs Claus!” You sighed, picking up the tinsel the old lady wanted to move. “He was so devastatingly pretty. Nothing could compare to him. And-And his singing! So hauntingly beautiful. It was alluring in such a way that left me breathless.”

“It sounds like you're in love, dear.” The jolly ole’ woman hummed, shaking around as she sprinkled something on some cookies. 

“You really think so?” You smiled bashfully, looking down at the gingerbread man you were decorating. 

You looked down at the cookie, eyebrows pulling up at the smirk the cookie seemed to be sporting. It have little triangles at it’s lips, the red icing popping out. Black icing covered it’s forehead in a line, stitches being show as though it had been put together. 

Looking up you noticed Mrs. Claus turning around with another batch, quickly shoving the sweet into your mouth to prevent her from seeing it. While you were too worried someone would catch on to your secret, you hadn’t even noticed that the cookie was created to perfection.

You could hear the other elves giggling at your antics.  

“Tell me, do you feel a warmth that comes from inside?” The old lady continued grinning. 

You swallowed before contemplating her question. Before long you realized she had been right, a soft smile falling on your lips as you thought about Hongjoong. 

“I've never felt so good before. This empty place inside of me is filling up.” You spoke quietly. 

“That's a good thing dear. No more worries.”

You decorated another batch of cookies, too preoccupied to even notice that you were creating some kinds of monsters along the men. But you were in the clouds, thinking about the man who you had come across. The elves only looked at you oddly, but didn’t make a comment because they could see that you were not about to answer. 

You continued on your way, out of the kitchen area. Just as you opened the door though, you flinched at the four men who were standing on the other side with wide grins on their faces. Well a wide grin on one of their faces. 

“Why are you just standing there?” You asked them. 

“We know where you went.” Wooyoung the first to always say something told you.  

You pushed them aside, continuing on your journey back to your house. “Where did I go?”

“You went through the tree.” Jongho spoke up. 

You tensed up but tried not to show it. 

“The Halloween tree.” Yeosang prattled. 

“Is he a monster?” Yunho asked. 

“Who?” You played dumb. 

“The man you're in love with.” Wooyoung giggled. 

“I'm not in love.” You shook your head, opening the door to the kitchen shop and walking out into the cold air. 

“We beg to differ. What is he?” Yunho asked. 

“He's nothing.” You spoke up without thought. 

“So there is someone.”

“No.” You stopped turning to look at them. “Drop it. There is no one.”

“You told Mrs Claus there was, though.” Yeosang said. 

“Were you eavesdropping?” You glared at all of them.

“We always do.” Jongho shrugged. “How do you think we knew Holly was secretly seeing Tinsel?”

You glared at the boys, feeling ticked with their wide grins. 

“I'm going home.” You declared, turning around. “Do not follow me!”

“Well when they say it like that I want to follow them.”

Yeosang kept his eyes on your retreating figure. More so the way you were walking through the snow without any trouble at all. They were all so used to you sinking in the snow and complaining about the cold that he was quick to notice you did none of those the moment they were outside. 

“Did you notice they didn’t sink into the snow?” Yeosang spoke up softly, watching as your feet seemed lightweight in the snow. 

“You think they’re finally getting into the Christmas spirit?” Yunho asked his friend. 

They thought about how you were talking about someone who seemed to have caught your attention. There was only one way to describe the way you had told Mrs. Claus about the person. The adjectives you had used were not ones they were used to and it was clear from where this person had come from. 

But whoever it was that had caught your attention, they started something that you were in desperate need of. 

“It’s some kind of spirit.”

**

It was a few days later when the four elves were finally able to follow you into the woods. They were pushing and shoving each other as each time they would lift a foot, their bells would jingle. But you were still none the wiser as you had something occupying your mind. 

They stilled for a moment behind a tree, almost falling onto the ground that seemed to be devoid of snow. Peaking over the other, they tried their best to see where you were going. And when you pulled open a door in one of the trees they were quick to understand. 

“They aren’t actually going there are they?” Yunho asked with wide eyes. 

You climbed the small steps, peering into the hallow tree. 

“I think they are.” Wooyoung gasped. 

Hearing their loud mouths, you turned around finding their bodies heading your way in a rushed manner. Your eyes went wide and you held your hands in front of you to keep them from pushing.

“(Y/N)!” Yeosang yelled, shoving into you. 

The world went black and you found yourself falling into the empty space you had grown used to these past few days. You could hear the boys screams and yells trying to find something to grab onto. 

With the impact on your back, you grunted when all of a sudden gravity made the four boys fall on you full force. You skid along the floor for a moment, groaning like you had the first time you came through the door. 

Once you got your baring together, you began to slap a hand on one of the boys. 

“What are you idiots doing!?” You pushed them off.

“Don’t hurt us!” Jongho raised his arms. 

“It seems we weren’t the only ones who had the idea to follow.”

You looked up, coming across four faces all looking down at you. 

“Hongjoong.” You quickly said. 

“Get off me!” You tried to shove Wooyoung off, the man shivering as he looked up at the other Halloween citizens. 

“They are monsters!” He sobbed, hiding in your stomach. 

“Who?” The one with horns asked with wide puppy looking eyes. 

“I know you are not talking about us, Darling.” Another grinned, his kanine teeth sharp as he looked at Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung whimpered again, hugging you closer once more. 

“Leave him alone, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong rolled his eyes, moving to help you up. 

“Is this your sweet?” You heard the giggle of one. 

He began playing the bell on your hat, smiling to himself as his large fluffy ears flickered from every sound they made. 

“Such a jolly little thing.” The other with sharp teeth spoke quietly, looking at you with a charming grin. 

“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong warned, pulling you closer to him. 

“You know I love knew friends, Joongie.” Seonghwa chuckled. “Especially the adorable ones.”

He spoke directly to Yeosang and Yunho who stood off huddled behind Jongho. The two blushed at the man’s words, flustered from his compliment. 

“Welcome all of you to Halloween.” The one with dog ears spoke up. “We hope you enjoy your time here.”

He had moved to pick up Wooyoung, but the moment the man took a look at the werewolf’s face he began to blush a bright red. Wooyoung squeaked, looking up from the floor before scrambling into Jongho’s hold. 

You began to giggle, feeling Hongjoong’s hand squeeze yours tightly. There was something about the way Hongjoong’s friends were so friendly that made you more then excited to meet them all. 

“My name is San.” The one with wolf ears spoke up, a smile on his face as he waited eagerly for your friends to say something. 

“I am Seonghwa.” The vampire bowed at his waist, hand along his torso.

“Mingi.” The boy with horns and wide eyes said, looking hopeful at each of your friends. 

The elves all watched them curious eyes but they didn’t say anything else.

“Don’t be rude, boys.” You immediatly said, catching their attention. 

They bowed at their waists, introducing themselves to Hongjoong’s friends. You smiled greatfully at the way they all started talking as though they had known each other forever. 

Seonghwa made another suggestive comment that had left Wooyoung flustered and hiding behind Jongho.

“Are they all like that?” You giggled. 

“Only Seonghwa.” Hongjoong snorted. “Are your friends always like that?”

“Only Wooyoung.”

**

There was a breeze that swept through the trees bringing down leaves that seemed to be never ending. You reached out for one that had fallen in front of you, twirling it around from the stem. 

“Hongjoong.” You quietly spoke out loud, turning to the man who was laying on his back with his eyes closed. 

He hummed, lips barely being pulled into a smile as he was enjoying his time. You leaned closer, laying on your stomach. You played with the leaf, dragging it along his nose. He scrunched up, trying to hold in his sneeze. 

“What is it, Jingle?” He asked you after swatting you away. 

You tilted your head to the side, glancing down his body. 

“Are you able to–you know–” You wiggled your hand down towards his thighs, gesturing to what’s between his legs. 

Hongjoong’s eyes quickly shot open, a frown on his face as he realized what you were gesturing to. He looked at you with an odd face, eyebrows raised to the sky as his stitches pulled his cheeks. 

“Why are you asking about it?” He asked you.

“The others talked about those kinds of things and you didn’t say anything.” You sat up, the bell on your hat ringing. “You just stayed quiet and listened to them go on and on.”

He sat up and shrugged. “I didn’t feel the need to.” He explained. “I’m not the kind of person who would do those kinds of things. Besides, I’m too busy to think about any of it.”

You thought about all the times that you were not able to hang out with Hongjoong. Especially when Halloween starts showing up. But you figured it was the same way with everyone else. Even the boys were sometimes too busy to hang out with you when Christmas was coming around. 

With the fact that you were not able to enjoy christmas the way everyone else was, things were different for you. You had all the time in the world to enjoy life, while others were busy. You could only imagine how much of a pain it was for Hongjoong being the head of Halloween. 

“You said you were the Pumpkin King, right?” You asked. 

He nodded his head, tilting it to the side as he wondered where you were going. 

You turned back around, scooting back so that you could fall into his arms. He happily held them open for you, allowing you to lay you back against his chest. His nosed at your cheek, feeling the warmth from your always red skin. 

“”It must be really hard to find someone.” You told him. 

He paused, stitches being pulled as a small smile fell onto his lips. “I don’t think it’s really all that hard.” He said. 

You turned to look at him, your eyes sparkling as they took in the soft way he looked at you. “So you do have someone?”

You were about to move out of his arms, causing him to giggle as he crushed you back between his arms. His head fell to your neck, giving you simple kisses that had you laughing. 

“It took years but I finally found someone who means more to me than being Pumpkin King.”

You turned around swiftly, legs moving to either side of his thighs. “More than being Pumpkin king?” You shook your head. “That’s one of the greatest honors a Halloween Town citizen can have. It’s like the Santa of Halloween.”

He laughed, smiling. He brought his forehead down to touch yours. “I was created to be the next Pumpkin King. The bones I have within me belonged to a past one and yet just like them I longed to find something that would fill an emptiness that would not go away.”

“There’s something out there, far from my home, a longing that I’ve never known.” He hummed quietly, bringing his hand up to touch your cheek. 

He leaned back down against the blanket, bringing you with him. You placed your hands on his chest, allowing him to stroke your back as you got comfortable atop him. 

“That longing could only be filled by someone like you.”

You softly placed your lips against his lips, stealing his breath as your emotions rose. Your hand moved into his hair, softly scratching at the scalp. There was a moan that fell from his lips at the stimulation, which made you pull back in fright. 

You pulled yourself up, staring down at him. He was panting, eyes drooping as he looked up at you. 

“I’m not going to stop.” He said breathlessly. 

You gasped quietly, as he pulled you closer, quickly turning over to lay over you. He reached up to rub his hand against your cheek softly, staring at you with sharp eyes that seemed to make you melt. 

You raised your own hand, thumbing at his stitches that fell directly from his eyes. “I don’t want you to.”

His next kiss was electrifying. It was harsh and demanding but even though it seemed that way, it was clear neither of you knew what to do. It was not your first kiss but it was the first time you were feeling as though summer was creeping through your bones. 

His tongue swept out to touch your bottom lip, allowing you the room to open your mouth for him. This was out of the ordinary for you, never really knowing what it was like to be with someone in this way. 

But everything Hongjoon did, you didn’t dare want to question. It made you feel an excitement–a warmth you had been longing for, for such a long time. It was exhilarating, magnificent. It was terrifying to feel such a need for Hongjoong. 

You pulled away from him breathlessly, the cooling air coming from the fall breeze did nothing to cool you. The red you always had on your skin from the biting cold was no longer your body trying to warm you up to survive. This time the flush you had was because of Hongjoong. And he wanted to see much more of it. 

His thigh nudged itself in between your own, opening your legs for his body to move in between. There was something between his legs you had never felt before and it was leaving you to burn up. Your knees were pulled up, allowing Hongjoong the space to slot himself perfectly. 

The hands you had behind his head moved, wanting to feel more of his skin so you placed them under his shirt, feeling the soft skin of his shoulders. Before you realized it, the man leaned up, quickly taking off his shirt that had you leaning on your elbows to stare at him wide eyed. 

The stitches. The discoloration of each patch of skin. His muscles. 

Nothing could ever compare to the haunting beauty someone like Kim Hongjoong had. He was someone who was created to rule–someone who demanded attention in his own way. Even if he wasn’t completely his own, the way he was put together was meant to be one of a kind. 

“What?” He smiled at you, chuckling at the look you had. 

“I’ve never seen someone like you.” You spoke softly. 

Hongjoong frowned just for a moment, about to lean back and away from you feeling like there was something wrong. You quickly caught on though, reaching back up to pull him closer to you. You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes as your lips brushed his in a soft way. 

Once again, you rubbed at his stitches, this time the ones near his mouth. Opening your eyes he watched as you looked at him with such an intense stare it made him want to cry. 

“Someone like you means that nothing will ever compare to the kind of beauty you have.” You whispered. “In all my years of living–you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Thank you.” He whispered. 

You leaned back in to give him a kiss. This time you allowed him to take off your coat, the green fabric falling behind you as you climbed into Hongjoong’s lap. He was rushing though, seeming more attached to you as he laid you down again.

His hands moved under your shirt, pushing it up as he tried to reveal your breasts. The bra you wore was plain, nothing fancy because of the standard elf uniform. You would have never thought about dressing pretty for Hongjoong, but now that he is looking at you the way he is, you wished you had. 

However he didn’t seem to mind as he quickly pushed your bra cups up and over your nipple so he could see them. You squeaked, looking up at him, shoulders scrunched up causing your arms to push your boobs together more. 

Hongjoong started to smile, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “You are so precious.”

You laughed, his body leaning over to give you a peck before he dove down to tongue at your chest. Your chuckle was cut off when his mouth encased a nipple. A sharp gasp left your lip, back arching to chase his tongue laving at you. 

You felt him snicker against your skin, so you glanced down to find him already smiling up at you devilishly as your nipple was caught between his teeth. You were getting tired of your shirt and bra being in the way so you made a rush to take them off. 

With the only thing left being your skirt and tights, Hongjoong took a moment to look at you. You wanted to feel self conscious, but the way his fingers skimmed your sides and touched you things couldn’t be going any slower. 

He took in a breath. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

You nodded your head, wanting to reach for him again. 

“I need you to answer me.” His lips wobbled, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself. 

“I love you, Hongjoong.” Was all you told him. 

His lips twitched, fingers digging into your skin for just a moment as he took in your response. “I love you too, Jingle.”

You raised your hips up, moving to pull your skirt and tights down in one go as the fall breeze finally touched your heated core. There was no need for underwear when you wore tights. And it seemed like Hongjoong appreciated it a lot because he seemed to straightened up at the sigh of you. 

“I’m going to take off my pants. Okay?” He told you, pulling at his belt. 

You sat up, confused why he was shaking as he took off his pants. You began to worry maybe he didn’t want to be one with you in that way. 

“Hongjoong you don’t have to do this.” You quickly told him, sitting up. Your hands went to stop him but he lightly shoved you away. 

“I want to.” He told you. “I just–Don’t exactly look like all the others. I don’t have the same appendage as everyone else.”

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

There wasn’t exactly anything you could compare it to. It’s not like the other elves go around telling stories of their escapades or how things worked within a relationship. You only could question him. Because as far as you could tell Hongjoong, this was going to be your first time doing anything like this. 

“It has–stitches.” He cringed at the thought, which only made you frown. 

You sat up, pulling your knees under you. Your hand went to his pants, making him freeze up, his hands clenched into fists at his side. You began to pull them down, not removing the eye contact you had with him. But he was quick to look down at where you were going. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” You told him honestly. “But I want you to know that no matter what you have you will always be someone beautiful to me.” 

He gulped, nodding his head. “You make me feel less dead inside.”

You smiled, fingers now dancing along his shaft. He moaned out quietly, and you felt it twitch up. 

“And you give me the warmth of a thousand melting snowflakes.” You pushed to touch his lips with yours. 

You felt him move to wrap your hand around his entire length, finally feeling the ridges of the stitches he was talking about along your palm. They were on the underside of his shaft, running along the entire length. You moaned from how warm he felt in your hand. 

You thumbed at the bumps, feeling against your lips how he would groan. He took off the rest of his pants, pushing and pulling to get you in his desired position. You could feel the warmth he was giving off on your core, and it made you even more heated than you cared to admit. 

“Hongjoong…”You whispered, feeling along his scarred skin. 

“I–I’m trying my best.” He told you, holding himself up with his arms. “This is my first–”

“It’s okay.” You smiled bashfully. “It’s mine too.”

Hongjoong’s lips pulled up feeling something swell in his chest that felt much deeper than anything he could have imagined. Neither of you could think of anything better than getting the chance to be with one another in this way. It was something Hongjoong could only dream of thinking that maybe he would be viewed as something out of the ordinary. 

Hongjoong took in a deep breath, looking down between your legs before moving to touch you. The gasp you let out had him flinching but when he saw your face, he found himself wanting to touch you in places that would have you gasping and out of breath. 

But he found himself losing his own breath, noticing how sensitive the tip of his cock was as his fingers grazed both your hole and his shaft. Each time you would move your hips up just to get his cock to rub against you, he found it harder to hold off from shoving in. 

He wanted to–gosh did he want to–but he wanted to enjoy the moment for a bit more. He didn’t want to rush. He didn’t want to reach the point of cumming prematurely because he wanted this to be good for you too. 

All he had to go by was off what the others would talk about. But this was much more than a simple hook up they seemed to do when they would go out into the real world. This was someone he loved with all his being. 

“Hongjoong.” You called him. 

He looked up from his stupor, pausing when he saw your glazed over look. “Tell me if it hurts.”

You didn’t have to say anything else as he was quick to start pushing in. 

Your toes curled, your legs clenched, you could feel every little bump that came with the stitches. It was something you could never describe. You had no idea how to voice to him that you wished you were able to feel it all over again for the first time. 

Hongjoong was going in slowly, choking gasps falling from his lips as every inch that he went in was covered by a pulsing warmth. He was panting, gritting his teeth together to keep from spilling too early. 

“Hongjoong.” You gasped. 

Your back arched, hands splayed against his chest. He leaned to one side, the overwhelming feeling of pleasure taking over. He pulled on your leg to wrap around his waist. Your eyes shot open at the new position, clenching around his length. 

“How–How is it this good?” He gasped out, hand messaging into your thigh. 

His breath hit the tips of your ears, the pointed flesh flicking from the tickle. All he got in response were your whimpers and soft whines. And when you began to move your hips when he bottomed out, Hongjoong couldn’t hold it in. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered out, smashing his lips to yours in a frenzied manner to keep you occupied while his hips began to move back and forth. 

Your blunt nails dug themselves into his shoulders, pulling at the skin which caused a stinging coming from the stitches he had there. The stinging only made him groan. His hips went faster. 

There was an inexplicable feeling that was beginning to build in the both of you that had you trying to chase it. Hongjoong’s movement became frantic, while you wiggle your hips closer to his. With each rub against his pelvis you felt an even better feeling. And each time you moved up you it felt like you would touch it. So you tried your best to chase the feeling. 

When something started to pull, your pants turned into whimpers and cries in Hongjoong’s ears. 

“(Y/N)...” Hongjoong panted, fingers digging into your leg. 

He didn’t stutter his hips this time, rather than a rhythmic movement, he was pounding in you slowly and trying to get you to cum. And when you did, Hongjoong swore you could almost cut off all circulation with how tight you felt. 

You felt everything when you clenched down and saw stars. You could feel your body becoming overstimulated and your legs began to shake. But you knew that Hongjoong still needed more so you let him continue as you panted and cried. 

And when he came you nearly cried from how primal it was for him. His hand smacked next to your head, clenching at the ground. His forehead laid against yours, your breaths mixing from all the sharp intake of breathing you were doing. He stilled his hips, allowing his length to twitch inside you as you felt a warmth spill from him. 

He sniffled, softly kissing your lips as you both came down from your high. You smiled, feeling the twitches each muscle gave out and the tiredness seeped into you. Your fingers still wanted to touch him so they lightly played along the skin of his chest. 

Finally, Hongjoong leaned to the side, falling over and pulling you close to his side. With his body off of you, you could feel the wind brush past your heated skin. 

For the first time in such a long while the cold didn’t bother you. 

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[jadeleechwife]

Hii!

Could I request platonic Boothill, Gallagher, Sunday and Blade with a teen reader that kind of just stuck to them because they have no parents?

(idk if I can request platonic hcs, pls lmk if not <33)

hello!! thanks for your request, I hope you like it!! <33 and it's fine really, I also enjoy platonic hcs. sorry for the bad grammar

Boothill

- When Boothill found you, you were heavily injured, bleeding. Alongside you, there were two adult figures, both lifeless.

- Boothill was in the middle of a mission that just happens to be in a place that was recently attacked by Anti-matter Legion. He couldn't help but notice your figure, somehow still alive.

- He took you with him to treat your injuries. When you woke up, you were scared, noticing to be in a place that isn't your home, your parents missing and with a cowboy cyborg man watching you.

- You asked where your parents were, but Boothill just sighed, admitting that they won't be with you so soon.

- You got the message and immediately started crying in pure despair, you were alone. Alone in this world with nobody to lend you a hand.

- Boothill could only remember his time when he lost everything, when he lost his kid and family. He felt the closest feeling to what should be an ache to his chest, and suggested that if you wanted to, you could stay with him. He knew he was being impulsive, as a teen living with him could only mean putting them in danger, but he could never let someone who desperately needs help like you to be left behind.

- You were wary about his request at first, but you didn't see any options beside accepting it, as you had nowhere to go.

- And so Boothill became your reference.

- To ensure your safety, he taught you how to handle guns, how to aim in the right spots to take your enemy down, and practiced your reflexes so you wouldn't be easily hit.

- His trainings were all strict, but it was all to keep you safe. He always tried to cheer you up with jokes and reassured you when you weren't doing well in your practices.

- Even after so many training, he still would be really protective of you, being able to beat his targets while also looking after your safety

- "Don'tcha worry kid, while you're with me, no one's gonna hurt ya." - He winked while you both were preparing yourselves to another mission.

Bonus: On your birthday, Boothill would gift you a similar hat that he is using to you, after all you were teammates now, right?

Gallagher

- Gallagher found you by pure chance while strolling the streets.

- He saw a teenager sneaking through a store and and carefully putting something in their pocket while leaving.

- He follows you and eventually corners you to ask you questions.

- You explained that you are only doing that for survival. Your parents sacrificed themselves to keep you safe from an unknown attack, making you completely alone.

- Gallagher listened carefully and couldn't help but also somehow identify himself with you in his darker times, completely lost, without a place to go.

- He told you to bare with him a bit and follow, while he has an idea.

- After a long discussion with the Bloodhound Family, they allowed Gallagher to watch over you with the condition that you don't interfere in any of their duties.

- You were truly surprised at first, as Gallagher didn't miss a beat to somehow take care of you. As much you were suspicious about second intentions, you rather try and see if that was a trap instead of refusing and choose to live only by surviving.

- He said you both will be living by an accord: he would take care of you and guarantee a better life, while you promise to never cause any sort of trouble again and also giving back the thing you stole it. For you, it was a win-win situation, so you had no complains.

- Gallagher was a mysterious man to you, full of secrets, always with a tired look. But even so, he was always ready to teach you many things and tips so you can grown up and be a wise adult.

- Also, in any case of potential danger, he was always prepared to keep you safe, hiding you in perfect spots, or keeping you behind him while he takes care of the threat. He was a silent but caring parental figure to you.

- "I didn't have much opportunities to have someone to guide me to be a better person. I don't want you to be like me, kid. I want you to be whoever you want, and better." - He said one day while sipping a drink he prepared and you also drinking a juice he made.

- You didn't get much of what he said, but you knew he was always trying to teach you only the best. He was hiding a lot and you knew it, but you believed it was for your own good.

Bonus: He teaches you the basic of mixing drinks and sometimes you both have nights where you can experiment combinations of drinks all you like! He always drinks everything you create even when the taste is questionable.

Sunday

- Sunday and the Astral Express decided to relax a bit at a nearby stop when he found you.

- You were wandering, with a hollowing look in your eyes, seeming completely lost.

- He decided to approach you, asking if you were okay and where your parents were.

- "I lost my parents. I lost everything. All it remains is.... void. Nothing. I am nothing."

- Sunday eyes widened at the realization you were just a teenager, lost and unprotected making him remind of his sister, and his deep fear of losing her and let her all alone.

- He asked you to follow him and if you wanted to stay with him and his crew for a bit. You just shrugged off, "it's not like if it matters or not", you thought.

- The Astral Express welcomed you with open arms, touched by your situation, and told you can stay as much as you like until you find somewhere you can call a home.

- Even if the others were extremely kind to you, Sunday was the one approaching you the most, including you in every situation. He couldn't help but try to make you see him as an older brother figure to make you feel safer.

- It took a while for you to open up, but as Sunday keep tolding you his and the others stories, making sure you were always comfortable, and reassuring you to take your time to adapt to the new environment, you finally felt like everything is ok.

- As you discover that Sunday would be temporarily in the Astral Express, you insisted that you want to go with him when he finally finds his promised land. Sunday was surprised, specially because you called him big brother as you stated your wish.

- With a tender smile on his face, he promised he will always be with you, and you both will be searching for this land together.

- "Don't be scared little one, the future is uncertain, but as long we stick together, we don't have to fear anything."

Bonus: Sunday writes a letter to Robin saying he wants you both to meet each other, stating that the family got bigger. He cannot wait until the moment you three can be together.

Blade

- Him and the Stellaron Hunters were traveling around following Elio's script when they found you, almost on the verge of death.

- Kafka already knew it was part of the destiny to finding you, and asked Blade to handle the situation.

- He was confused at first, not knowing much what to do, but even so he scooped your fragile body onto his arms and took you alongside to the Stellaron Hunters.

- After some weeks you finally opened your eyes and saw Blade on your side. He told you he knew you would wake up today and was checking up how you were feeling.

- You said you were lost, and still feeling pain, but you remembered a strong man carrying you to safety. "It was you, right?" you asked.

- After you were completely recovered, Kafka always made sure you were always by Blade's side, making Blade teaching you the basic of self defense, even if against his will.

- Somehow, after passing so much time with Blade, you got attached to him, seeing as some sort of big brother figure. You wanted to follow his steps, be strong and relentless as him. You admired him.

- Blade, on the other side, tried to push you away as much as possible. Firstly because he thought you were a hassle to handle, but then he realized it was because he wanted to protect you. He was a monster, and that was no lie to him, and the last thing he wanted was ending up hurting you somehow.

- He didn't know how to handle you most of the times, as he was not used to deal with teenagers, but even that, he started to enjoying your company, even if never admitting that.

- "Listen kid, one day, when my journey reaches to an end, I am going to die. Don't think that as a bad thing. It's my most deserved rest. Until that day, I am going to make you stronger. You will never be like me, but take that as a blessing. You will continue your journey on your own, but this time, you won't need to be scared. Take the obstacles of your journey as challenges to reach your highest potential. Don't waste anything, got it?" He said that to you one day.

- Even if you were scared of losing someone you cared for again, you already understood everything he said. You smiled, and promised to be the strongest warrior someone ever seen.

Bonus: On the beginning of your training, Blade was teaching you how to reach for the enemies weak spot and made you stab him on his chest. You were terrified as seeing the sword crossing his body completely, your mind going blank. Blade couldn't help but laugh as he takes off the weapon watch your reaction as his body regenerates. It was the first time you thought he was super cool.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

lowk FUCKED up, butttttttttttttt would any of the comic book yanderes lobotomize their darling? we always talkin about willingness and shit saur... ya know!! just a lil off the top if ykwim

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒…

!!! GN reader, take a wild guess (lobotomies), neurological terms used, basic delusional behaviors, unethical uses of superpowers, unethical practices in general, mentions of brain dead/vegetative/mentally handicapped reader, Hal’s part briefly describes actual lobotomy procedures, Joker jumpscare in Harvey’s, gaslighting, a small history lesson here and there, themes of forced drug abuse, Tim Drake being a good candidate for the Saw franchise.

GRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHGHHHRRR. Anon, come over here so I can give you a lil forehead smooch. I’ve always wanted to write a yan lobotomy blurb, but… I didn’t really know what direction I wanted to go. Or who to write about. The idea is was legit, “hee hee, wouldn’t it be silly if there was a yandere lobotomy fic” and that’s about it. So I guess this is my chance to get some feelings out about that, yay!!

A few of these are a bit longer than usual cuz this type of shit is my jam. I also didn’t know if you wanted me to rank them on least to most likely, so shoot me a follow up ask if that’s what you wanted. Mwah!!

Bruce Wayne: Definitely not off the table. I’m willing to bet Thomas Wayne had at least one book on lobotomies; just an antique hardback that makes for an interesting read. I can see young Bruce sitting on his father’s lap in the study, tiny hands tracing over the book’s old diagrams as Thomas lovingly describes all of the morbid things they’d do to people (you know, classic father/son bonding activities). Who knew it would actually come in handy one day? Moral repercussions be damned, my man can pull off a sick lobotomy. There are of course factors he has no control over — such as your own brain plasticity and cognitive function — but that’s not exactly his fault, now is it? What your brain decides to do post-lobotomy has nothing to do with him (jokes aside, he’d be devastated if you were totally fucked up afterwards… though he’d easily adapt).

Bucky Barnes: I think he’s had enough mind-meddling of his own to give this a hard pass. It doesn’t matter how bad you are; he’s not doing anything to your brain. You’ll learn to behave on your own accord. And thank god, cuz bro would NOT make a good brain surgeon. He’d brick you so fast. Also, fun fact, the Soviets were actually the first to ban lobotomies (if memory serves correct; Google is backing me up, so… do with that what you will). I don’t know if this carries over to the KGB and their little secret evil organization side shenanigans, but yeah. Let it be known that the chances of lobotomized Bucky went down by… like… 3%.

Clark Kent: At first, I was about to say no, but then I remembered the Justice Lords from the JL cartoon, and… you know what? Maybe. It would be a very low chance, but if it’s gotten to the point where you’re a danger to yourself, Clark would have no other choice. What else can he do? Your safety always comes first and foremost. While the two dots singed into your forehead would raise a few brows, it’s not like he lets you out much anyway. He’d spend a long time trying to cope with the guilt. He did this to save you… he just had to save you from yourself. At least his heat vision is precise enough that he wouldn’t fuck it up. Now all that’s left to do is hope that you turn out okay. He’ll consider it a job well done if you can at least still smile at him.

Dick Grayson: He really isn’t that much different from Bruce, is he? Yeah, he’d do it. Maybe with a few more reservations, but he’d still do it. I think it’s in your best interest if you don’t let him spiral this far, because he’s not against the idea of you being in a completely vegetative state. Yeah, it would suck that you aren’t as active of a participant as he’d want you to be, but having complete control over your care is good enough for him. He’ll easily let his own delusions fill that void. Honestly, a part of him might even hope you turn out with a mental capacity of a toddler. It’s the best of both worlds; while you can still respond to your environment, you also rely heavily on his care. Perfectly pliable in his hands… a dream come true! Yay!

Hal Jordan: Nah. He’s good. Last he checked, he’s not the most qualified person in the world to quite literally poke around in someone’s brain. Hell, even the thought of it makes him sick. No drilling holes into skulls, no skewering needles through eye sockets, no thanks! He’ll leave that up to the people who can stomach the grosser shit. Now, is the thought of a quick operation that theoretically fixes your bratty behavior tempting? Sure. But Hal’s not an idiot; he knows the risks, and those risks just don’t seem worth it. There’s a reason lobotomies are unethical nowadays. Unless the topic comes up in some sort of show or movie, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind.

Harvey Dent: Neither Harvey nor Two Face are all that keen on the idea. They might’ve done some fucked up shit to you (definitely Two Face more than Harvey), but a lobotomy? That’s just a new level of fucked up. A Joker level of fucked up, even (and the thought of being compared to that piece of shit makes both sides of Dent want to light up an entire room). Besides, there’s no one on the entire planet he’d trust to pull off a procedure like that on you. While he might know a guy or two who would totally do it in this day and age, he’d sooner put a bullet in their brain than let them fuck around with yours. That being said, don’t think you’re totally out of the woods. At the end of the day, it’s all up to the coin, remember?

Jaime Reyes: Would Jaime? No. Absolutely not. It’s unethical, it’s fucked, and it’s also just gross. Anything to do with surgery makes him feel extremely squeamish, and he might actually pass out if he thinks about it too hard. But would Khaji Da? Yeah. Probably. Though it would have to be an extreme scenario, where you’re just completely beyond controlling. Khaji Da knows the risks, and while he’ll execute the technical aspects flawlessly, the results are naturally unpredictable. It would be unfortunate if the scarab lost its host’s mate. Your poor little noggin is at the mercy of Jaime’s resolve. Is he in full control? Then don’t worry, his incoherent mutterings about severing connections in your prefrontal cortex are nothing but his weird intrusive thoughts. But… if he isn’t… uh-oh.

Peter Parker: Nope. No lobotomies here. He’s quite aware of the repercussions, both morally and practically. Honestly, he doesn’t even see most of your behaviors as something in need of correcting in the first place. Maybe if you were causing yourself any sort of harm, but other than that, he can put up with a lot of your bullshit. Talking back? Name calling? Hitting and kicking? Straight-up just being abusive? As long as you don’t leave him, he’ll work with it! Peter is the exact definition of a pushover yandere. You can get away with a lot, and that includes not getting lobotomy!

Reed Richards: I can see him pulling one off. Is it the most desirable outcome? Definitely not. But there’s only so much he can put up with before he finally puts his foot down. If you’re the insubordinate type, you’ve probably given him at least 17 heart attacks by now, and it’s only natural he’d come up with a way to curb those behaviors. See, me personally, if I were to get a lobotomy from any of these men, I’m calling up Reed. He’s no neurologist, but I’m sure he can whip up something to study your brain waves and accurately predict the outcome of a lobotomy. Plus, he’d probably have the safest environment and instruments for the operation. You won’t feel a thing, trust. Now let’s hope months of collecting data and trial runs on some less-than-willing test subjects pay off!

Remy LeBeau: Yeah, no… probably not. Thanks to Sinister, he knows first hand how invasive a lobotomy is. You’d have to be really unstable for him to even consider that idea. He definitely has the means to do it — all he has to do is put a finger up to your forehead and burn through your frontal lobe — but having the resolve to do it is a different story. While he might’ve turned out semi-okay post-lobotomy, there’s no telling what would happen after yours. Way too risky. Only something to consider as a totally nuclear option. So don’t make him do something he’d rather not, okay? It’d be better for you, better for him, better for everyone.

Scott Summers: Like Gambit, he’s a victim of Sinister’s fuckery but 10 times worse. I don’t think he’d be able to stomach the thought of doing anything surgical to you no matter how disobedient you are. But… maybe we can make this a little interesting. Scott’s attracted some hella weird attention over the years… who’s to say someone like Sinister wouldn’t get his hands on you and do a little fucking around? Maybe Goblin Queen? A particularly pissed off Phoenix? While Scott himself wouldn’t dare lobotomize you, I think there’s some people out there who would. Or, hear me out: mind controlled Cyclops almost crushing your skull with an optic blast. It would be more blunt force than an actual lobotomy, but I’m willing to bet it would fuck up your cognitive function all the same. Despite the immense horror and guilt he’d feel afterwards, a small part of him can see it as a blessing in disguise (depending on how you turn out, that is).

Steve Rogers: Honestly, Cap was frozen at the funniest point in history ever. The amount of lobotomies increased exponentially from the 40s to 50s (mind you, WWII ended in 1945), and then antipsychotics were introduced as a more ethical way to treat mental illness, which Steve wouldn’t know shit about. Unfortunately for all of my fellow sickos out there, lobotomies were probably never a thing Steve liked about the 40s, but allow me to offer an alternative. Steve thinks there’s clearly something wrong with your mental health; why else would you act like you hate him? Luckily for him, this is the 21st century, where people know much more about mental illnesses and disorders. He could easily pull some strings as Captain America and get you the help you so obviously need. So, I guess the question is, how many different prescriptions of antipsychotics can one take at once? Guess you’ll find out!

Tim Drake: So… uh… y’all better pray that he doesn’t get any intrusive thoughts about this shit. And if he does, PRAY that he snaps out of his weird fit before it’s too late. DO NOT LET BRO COOK. I don’t think he’d totally fuck it up or anything, but the chances of him spiraling and performing more than one are dangerously high. You might find the out hard way just how much poking and prodding a brain can take before it shuts down. Depending on how manic he is, he might actually lobotomize you while you’re conscious. No anesthesia, no painkillers, just him pouncing on you with a hammer and pick. You will be rawdogging this lobotomy like god intended. That’s when he’d fuck your shit up. Unless you want him to brick your brain, you better fight him off and wrestle those tools out of his hands. The post-manic episode clarity would be insane. “Uh… sorry I tried to give you a lobotomy.” Cool, man. Okay.

Wally West: Wally “if you need to give someone a lobotomy, that’s honestly a skill issue” West. Who needs that shit when you’re THE master manipulator? It would take some god-tier perception (or paranoia) to see through a fraction of his act, and even so, what good will any of that do when he’s got everyone else wrapped around his finger? Fighting against him is a dangerous game. If need be, he’ll play the loving caretaker while you’re the loony one. Poor Wally… he’s trying to help you through your issues, and this is the thanks he gets? Wow. Now, for the sake of a little exploration, I think it’s important to note that Wally could theoretically go through with it (by phasing his hand through your skull and solidifying at the right angle), but that sounds way too unstable to pull off. It would probably run the risk of turning your brain into a soup, and I’m pretty sure that kills people.

[cgsf]

Fics based on a theme:

Stiles in a Contractual Relationship

••••••

—Derek/Stiles—

"Tax Evasion" (E) by standinginanicedress | 139,924 | “Here’s what I want,” Stiles starts, and Scott is already nodding along. “…I want a dude who’s going to take me out on dates. I like dinner and ice cream and all that. And I want him to meet my dad in, like, a sweater vest and khakis and shake his hand and talk about sports with the guy. And I want him to have a car and an apartment – not like, nice ones? But ones, you know? He’s got a dog, too. He drives me around and buys me stuff and is nice to my dad and my friends but then, like,” he squeezes the basketball extra hard and is sure he feels some air being let out of it, “…he ties me up sometimes, too. Is that too much to ask for? Am I reaching for the stars?”

"Don’t Take the Money" (E) by standinginanicedress | 53,469 | “Just so long as I don’t go falling in love with you, you don’t give a shit,” Derek clarifies. “Yeah. Pretty much.” “What if you go and fall in love with me?” “Ha ha,” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t do shit like that. Alphas are disposable and they’re all just alike, when you strip them down to their parts.”

"For Your Eyes Only" (E) by standinginanicedress | 113,297 | “Are you a fucking psycho? Be honest. Are you sick in the fucking head?” Stiles asks. “No,” Derek says. “I’m a rich guy who likes twinks.” “Uh huh,” he doesn’t sound convinced. “You have twenty thousand dollars just lying around waiting to be spent on having cam sex with me?” “I do,” he shrugs. “And then some.” Silence. “You’re rich?” “Yes. I have money. I have an important job. That’s not what we’re talking about. Are you in or out?”

"One life stand" (E) by Vendelin | 84,278 | Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

"Werewolf-Friendly" 🔒 (E) by badwolfbadwolf | 27,228 | Derek is a junior in college, never could get the hang of social interaction, and is, you know, a werewolf. A werewolf and a virgin. And it isn’t like anyone is banging down his door to hop on his werewolf dick, save for the few pervs who acted like he was some kind of exotic toy to be played with and experienced. So, when he sees Stiles' ad on Hot Men 4 Rent, Derek is... interested.

"Not What I Ordered" 🔒 (E) by eeyore9990 | 2,921 | Derek orders himself a bottom from a high-class escort service. What he gets is…Stiles.

"Unwind" 🔒 (E) by coffeeinallcaps | 15,047 | 'Hope you enjoy your present,' the text from Erica says. 'Payment’s taken care of. You can thank me tomorrow.'

"Disposition" (E) by Tulikettu | 56,104 | Stiles has an itch. A kinky, kinda dirty itch he needs to scratch. So why not go on the Internet and look for a complete stranger to scratch it? Derek needs a partner for his rut. What a coincidence.

"Oblivion for Two" (E) by publicdecency | 210,279 | “I’ll pay you to stop going around with other werewolves.” Stiles pushes Derek’s hand off of him, and Derek lets him. Stiles sits up. Derek sits up. They stare at one another. Stiles tries to laser through right to his dumb idiot fucking brain. “What did you just say?”

"A Mating Moon" (E) by unpossible | 37,353 | “Hey, Scott, so, I uh, there’s this amazingly hot guy and I’m uh, gonna spend the weekend with him but, you know, just to be careful, I’m sending you his picture, so if by some terrible chance my bloated corpse shows up sometime Monday, just, y’know pass this along to the authorities.” He pauses. “Uh. Kidding?” and then hangs up with a rush of air. “That is the worst voicemail in the history of voicemails,” Derek says.

"Millstone" (E) by eleanor_lavish | 31,368 | Derek waits until the door is shut behind him before he turns around. He holds out his hand, plants his ‘if you’re not weird about it, I won’t be’ smile on his face and says, “Nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m Michael. What kind of a good time are you looking for tonight?”

"Don't Worry Baby" (E) by kalpurna | 20,276 | "You know you're allowed to ask for vanilla sex, right?" he says, afterwards. "We can do whatever you want. That's kind of the point." Derek doesn't respond.

"but monsters are always hungry, darling" (E) by Rena | 7,071 | "I just...I just want someone to fuck me,” he blurts out, flailing his hands around. “I mean, like, really fuck me. Not any of this wishy-washy stuff, but someone with strength and stamina who’ll actually, honestly, fuck me, hold me down and fuck me so hard I can still feel it the next day.” “So, essentially, you want a werewolf,” Lydia deduces.

"Three Phone Calls" 🔒 (M) by pandabomb | 15,676 | Scott and Stiles live in a shitty apartment in NYC, Lydia is still queenly, and Derek is a clueless rich guy who mistakes Stiles for a hooker.

"Sell Your Body to the Night" (E) by Dira Sudis | 121,553 | "No," Derek repeated impatiently. "I'm not a cop. I'm someone who wants to exchange my money for your sexual services. I was told you were in that line of work." "I, uh, yeah, sorry," Stiles said. He glanced around again and then up--the full moon was almost directly overhead. Just one of those nights, maybe. "Yeah, I am. I do that."

"The Civilian" 🔒 (E) by bloodwrites | 15,279 | Stiles started hustling by accident. He likes the way it makes him feel too much to stop. Even the risk involved with selling himself in dark, dirty alleys doesn't stop him from doing it again and again. Not every night, sometimes not even every week, but he always goes back, looking for more of what he needs.

"A Whole Strip of Condoms" 🔒 (E) by eeyore9990 | 20,227 | Stiles feels the crushing weight of his family's debt; Derek has piles of money. Derek needs to get laid; Stiles is a willing and eager virgin. It's a match made in... well. Beacon Hills. Eesh.

—Stiles/Peter—

"gave your smile to me" (T) by Sarageek16 | 4,784 | In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

"Men of Taste" (E) by dizzzylu | 3,737 | It starts with a leather portfolio; a gift from Peter the day Derek is promoted to junior partner. He flips through the last few pages of cards, taking his time. Among them are several swanky nightclubs, a discreet gentlemen's club, a selection of the city's more opulent fetish clubs, as well as New York's most elite, and secretive, escort agency.

"Gravity's Got Nothing on You" (E) by zosofi | 83,979 | “Three weeks,” Derek says. “Still don’t want to,” Stiles says. “I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. “How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.” “My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

"one kiss (you burn)" (E) by anonymous | 1,953 | Stiles just wants to pop his cherry.

"Red Wall" (E) by veterization | 37,627 | Peter finds Stiles selling himself on the streets years after leaving Beacon Hills. He takes him in.

"A Delicate Beast" (E) by anonymous | 7,536 | Stiles flicks his eyes to Peter and has to almost instantly drag them away again in fear. This man wants to assault me.

"Loan Wolves" (E) by veterization | 117,313 | At seventeen, Stiles' mother dies, and suddenly, with bills piling up, Stiles and his father are in financial straits. Enter Peter Hale, the loan shark.

"Conduit" 🔒 (E) by DarkIsRising | 52,428 | A cool 10k to spend a weekend with some rich guy getting plowed in his familial estate during some hoity-toity engagement party for Rich Guy’s niece, with an extra 2k on offer if he can make his ex-husband visibly seethe with jealousy.

"A Spoonful of Sugar" (E) by Twisted_Mind | 31,133 | He blames Lydia. He would never have even considered this if she hadn't mentioned it like it was legit. But short of falling down the rabbit hole of student debt, he doesn't have a whole lot of options. So, whatever, he can try the sugar baby thing. No one has to know.

••••••

[emotionalhottiee]

Broken 💔

Jimmy Uso/Jonathan Fatu

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise stated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events in this fanfic are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

just a quick oneshot until i get over this writers block. Hope you enjoy.

Heart Broken…

Doesn’t even begin to explain how i feel. How could he do this to us?

Thoughts of frustration and brokenness ran rampant through my mind as hot tears poured down my face. After all i had been through with Jonathan how could he throw away everything we had. My mind ran back to walking into his condo, opening his bedroom door to be met with an image of some ig thot, bent over while the love of my life was behind her. My heart shattered had into a million pieces.

Now the tears I’ve been crying out, for the past 30 minutes have blurred my vision. Thinking about that day against my will. But seeing him tonight made the memory pop up. Even though i knew there was a slight chance he would be at our friends birthday party. Actual seeing him, just felt like another knife being jammed right into my heart.

“Kenzi, are you alright in there?” “You’ve been in this bathroom a long time” my friend Kiara screamed through the door.

I hadn’t even realized i had been in here that long, but i just couldn’t stop crying. Watching Jon strut up in this party with some new girl on his arm. As if the last year and a half meant so little to him, he could move on within days. LITERALLY 5 days ago i caught him in bed with another woman.

And now it’s saturday, and he bought a whole other woman with him. Damn, How many others were there? I thought to myself as i wiped the tears from my bloodshot red eyes. Trying to cover up the fact that i been in the bathroom of a mutal friend of ours,sobbing over this man. What did i ever do to make him be so cold & callous towards me?

I have to pull myself together! I tried to tell myself encouragingly, i am not going to let him see me, so vulnerable. For what? He doesn’t seem to care in the least bit. Too busy fake laughing at the girl with her ass hanging out of her shorts.

He’s knows her ass ain’t that funny.

As i finish up wiping my face, one last time. Before i could even get myself all the way out of the bathroom Kiara yanked my ass into a tight hug. She knew i needed this that’s why she my friend.

“Girl don’t let him make you sad. Fuck him, you deserve so much better.” She calmly stated to me rocking us back & forth. This is exactly what will make my ass start crying again. But i am so thankful for my friend, trying to keep me from being sad.

Against Kiara’s advice i decided to stay at this party. This was one of Jon & I’s mutal friend, I’m not gonna let him feel like he has won (Even though he totally has won).

I put on my bravest face to go back and chill, before our friends pull out a game of taboo. We had split up into two teams and of course i end up on a team with Jon & his whore of the week. It was almost as if God was punishing me for still wanting to be around him. But truth be told i was obsessed with him. I loved him more than the air i breathed.

And as much as i can possibly lie to myself, i know he loves me too.

*some time later*

The party winded down, Kiara & I were helping our friends clean up. Jon’s little girlfriend ended up leaving. I thought they would’ve rode together but i guess not. And I’m honestly kinda happy about that. He’s been staring at me all night. Now that he’s alone i know where this night will take us. Especially since i rode with Kiara.

Jon asked me if i needed a ride home, knowing damn well i don’t like driving at night. I tried to act like i had to go back with Kiara, she gave us a shrug letting us know she didn’t mind. She knew me too well. As much as she wanted me to stand up for myself, she knew where my heart was. And wanting to be there for me she wasn’t gonna fight me on it. I appreciated that. Giving her a hug goodnight she gave me eyes of pleading, but with a hint of be careful. I rubbed her arms up & down letting her know i’d be okay.

The ride back to Jon’s house was quiet at first nothing but low 90s R&B playing. But he eventually turned the music off. He grabbed my hand while holding the steering with his other and apologized for his actions within the last week. My eyes filled up to the brim before a tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t even respond. I just held onto his hand, he bought my hand up to his mouth still holding it kissing it ever so gently. This is the soft, caring Jon i feel in love with. For a quick second he looked at me our eyes staring into one another. Until he turned his eyes back to the road.

This is going to be a great night.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

if life is a movie, then you’re the best part

summary: small glimpses into your relationship with louis

vicious speaks: this is my first fic for louis and my first smau ever!! if it’s not good, please take it easy on me. feedback is appreciated as long as it isn’t unkind. hope you enjoy 💗

louis masterlist

requests: open

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liked by yourbff, louist91, taylorswift and 50,234 others

yourusername he’s so obsessed with me and, boy, i understand

view all comments

yourbff as he should be

liked by yourusername and louist91

taylorswift relationship goals

↳ yourusername learned from the best 🫶🏼

↳ username1 this friendship still takes me out

↳ yourusername you and me both 😭

louist91 of course i am, have you fucking seen yourself?

↳ yourusername flattery will get you everywhere 💋

username2 we all know she’s just using him

↳ username3 using him for WHAT? she’s a successful business owner, she doesn’t need his money. you’re just bitter cause you realize you never had a chance.

liked by louist91, yourbff

username4 if he doesn’t worship me like this, i don’t want him.

↳ yourusername exactly, you deserve so much more than the bare minimum 🫶🏼

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louist91 has added to their stories

replies:

yourusername best way to spend the day 🤎

↳ louist91 come back to bed, love, i miss you

↳ yourusername i’m literally in the kitchen? 😭

yourbff so glad you got her to relax, she’s been working in the studio nonstop!!

↳ louist91 it was hard to convince her but i won in the end

username1 ohhh to spend the day in bed with louis tomlinson

username you don’t have to throw this fake bs in our face

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liked by louist91, yoursibling and 78,385 others

yourusername we get fancy sometimes

view all comments

yoursibling what did you do to get him to wear something other than a t-shirt, omg?

↳ yourusername i am not at liberty to say…🤭

↳ username1 she has no class 🙄

↳ username2 it’s a joke? if you don’t like her, unfollow

liked by yourusername

louist91 the only person i’d dress up for x

↳ yourusername i love you 🥹💘

username3 we don’t thank her enough for providing us with boyfriend louis content

liked by yourusername

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yourusername added to their stories

replies:

louist91 always, darling 🏆

↳ yourusername 💞💞💞

username1 the hand placement…😵‍💫

username2 you lucky bitch 😍

↳ yourusername 😉

yourbff you’ve won in the romance department

↳ yourusername i really did 😭

username3 i want this pic tattooed on my forehead

↳ yourusername REAL

username4 posting this picture is so inappropriate

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liked by yourusername, louist91 yourfriend and 16,004 others

yourbff they make me both believe in love and feel incredibly lonely

tagged yourusername, louist91

view all comments

yourusername omg i had no idea you took this 😭

↳ yourbff you were too busy getting the princess treatment 👸🏻

louist91 i’m telling you, let me set you up with one of my mates

↳ yourbff i might have to take you up on that, dude, shit’s getting bad out here for us singles 😫

↳ username1 louis having such a good relationship with yourusername’s best friend is such a green flag

liked by yourbff and yourusername

username2 wow management even got her best friend in on this con

↳ yourbff sure grandma let’s get you to bed

liked louist91, yourusername and others

↳ username3 LMFAOO QUEEN

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liked by yourbff, louist91, yoursibling and 348,783 others

yourusername vacation mode 🔛

tagged louist91

view all comments

yourbff day 1 and it’s already so much fun ☀️

↳ yourusername so glad you’re here 🥹🫶🏼

yoursibling thanks for letting us normies tag along

↳ yourusername lmao, shut up

louist91 ☀️🌊🧡

username1 enjoy your break, you guys deserve it!!

↳ yourusername thank you, lovely <3

username2 a vacation from what, you don’t even do anything

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louist91 added to their stories

replies:

yoursibling thank you for always putting that smile on her face 🤎

↳ louist91 it’s my honor

yourusername the best surprise 🥰

↳ louist91 more where that came from 🫡♥️

username1 omg she’s so gorgeous

↳ louist91 lou read this to me and i stole his phone to say thank you 🥹 you’re gorgeous as well 💗 - y/n

username2 what does she even need a break from? she just leeches off of you

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liked by louist91, yourbff, yoursibling and 128,474 others

yourusername my job…it’s just louis’ girlfriend.

view all comments

yourbff and what a great job you do at louis’ girlfriend!

louist91 lmao, i fucking love you 🖤

↳ yourusername love you so much 🤍

username1 she had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever and she did 😭

username2 ended those miserable bitches

liked by yourusername, louist91, yourbff and others

liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 1m others

louist91 the most wonderful thing i decided to do was to share my life and heart with you. you’ve delt with some shit since we’ve been together and you’ve handle it all with such grace. i’ve never met someone as kind, beautiful and down to earth as you. you make me a better person and i can’t wait to spend forever with you 🩵

tagged: yourusername

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername i love you so much, i can’t wait to continue building a life with you 🤍

niallhoran congratulations 🍾

yourbff: you two absolutely deserve each other. i couldn’t be happier for you 🥹

↳ yourusername i love you, maid of honor 🫶🏼

↳ louist91 thank you for helping me plan everything!

zayn congrats bro!

yoursibling welcome to the family ♥️

↳ louist91 thank you for trusting me with her heart

harrystyles ❤️

taylorswift i can’t wait to sing at the wedding 🩷

[quintessenceofdust88]

hehe! 👵👵👵👵👵 (5)

VIaaa, darling, I always prepare myself with plenty of Nonna sentences for you hehe! I hope you enjoy these twenty-five sentences of our collective adorable grandmother, a direct continuation from here: -- “Ah, look, there they are!” Eddie exclaims, pointing to the far end of the gate, and indeed, there they come, Tommy towering over his petite grandmother, a smile on his face and a hand on her back as he carries their luggage with the other one. 

It’s the first time Buck’s seeing her without an apron over her clothes; she’s wearing a rather lovely summer dress, navy blue with yellow flowers, and her ever-present long braid is finished with a white ribbon. She’s walking firmly in their direction, and her lips open into a pleased smile when she spots him. 

“Evanino, bambino mio!” She exclaims, wrapping her arms around his neck, and Buck bends a little so she can press a kiss to his cheek. “How can you look more handsome every time I see you, hm?”

“Ah, thank you, Nonna. It’s because your grandson takes excellent care of me” He says cheekily, and presses a small peck to Tommy’s lips, who gives him that scrunchy smile Buck loves so much. “Welcome to LA, Nonna. Did you have a good flight?”

“Grazzie, darling. Tommaso spent half of it analyzing the flight route” She said, and Tommy shrugged unashamedly. 

“And I maintain it made no sense, I'd have gone completely different about it”

“Sure, tesoro” Nonna said, patting his cheek distractedly, and then smiling at Eddie, the same scrunchy smile from her grandson. “And this handsome boy can only be Edmundo, no?”

Eddie looks surprised, and smiles shyly at her.

“That's me, Signora. It's such a pleasure to meet you; Tommy and Buck talk about you all the time” He says, and charmer he is, kisses her hand. She smiles in delight, chuckling affectionately. 

“They talk about you too, tesoro, I almost feel like I know you already” She says, patting his cheek. “You and your Christopher, I can't wait to meet him”

Eddie offers Nonna his arm, and the two of them start walking while he tells her about Christopher. Buck takes the chance to properly greet Tommy with a long kiss.

“Hi, fiancé. I missed you” He says, and Tommy smiles at him, kissing the tip of his nose. 

“Missed you too, fiancé” Tommy tells him, and both of them look down at their matching silver bands. The wedding rings are very similar, except there’s a gold thread in the middle of the silver. They’re already safe with Chimney, who’ll be Tommy’s best man. “Three more weeks, hm?”

“Can’t wait” Buck confesses, and they intertwine their hands, walking behind Eddie and Nonna, who are still talking like old friends. “She’s going to charm everyone, won’t she?”

“Of course she will, you know how she is”, Tommy chuckles. “She already made a huge grocery lists of ingredients for us to buy so she can feed everyone”

“Lucky them” Buck marvels. --

There you go my love, and I hope you have a lovely week! 💕💕💕

(and if anyone else wants to make me write, just send me an emoji!)

[foundationhq]

ACCESS GRANTED TO SITE-φ.

Welcome, 𝐽𝑂𝑁. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚍𝚖����𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 is pleased to clear you for the role of [𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻 𝐹𝐼𝐷𝐸𝐿𝐼𝑇𝑌].

Knowing that this was your first attempt at apping to this sort of game truly floored us, as this fact was not at all apparent in your application. The masterful way in which you crafted Steve’s personality and how fully realized he is as a character was quite frankly awe-inspiring. So much was said in what was left unsaid, in the minute mannerisms of a man so proficient at manipulation that catching him in a lie is a tremendous test in itself. The way that you explained both the experiment that lead to Steve’s downfall and the steps he took, and continues to walk, to clear his name left us hooked and dying to see how much further his ambition will take him... or, perhaps, how much further he might fall. We're so excited to explore the wonders and horrors of scientific endeavor at Steve's side. We are so incredibly happy to invite you into the Foundation.

Please refer to our checklist for primary onboarding, and have your account ready in 24 hours. The flight to Site-φ leaves on the dot. And 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 doesn't like to be kept waiting.

[im2tired4usernames]

My parents should be fuckin ashamed

[byanyan]

ㅤat this point, they're beyond wasted and vibing out to music that's too loud with several substances on standby for when the buzz starts wearing off. happy new year!!

[fushitoru]

infect me with your love

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you have always existed in gojo satoru’s shadow. he is a physics prodigy, a person that everyone endlessly admires for his intelligence and charisma, and you hate him for taking the spotlight that you deserve to share with him. but it all changes one day at 5:07AM at your starbucks job when gojo barges in, ordering ridiculously sweet drinks and posing existential questions. is there more to gojo that meets the eye, and is it linked to the vigilante swinging around New York City?

warnings ⸺ college au, academic rivals to lovers, SMUT, tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, basically the holy trinity, reader works at Starbucks (BOYCOTT tho), set in NYC, both reader and gojo are physics majors, mentions of SA, attempt at SA on reader but nothing too graphic, some violence, gojo swings reader across NYC so might trigger fear of heights?. SPIDER-MAN KISS SPIDERMAN KISS, injury and mentions of blood, mentions of gun, inappropriate use of webs LOL, fingering, oral, p in v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

a/n thank you for @avaults my POOKIE for beta reading this. this has been a journey and my first longfic and i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it it's my baby:')

if u don’t wanna read the smut just skip the part after they make up, it’s not necessary to the story and is the ending scene. but just to be clear, minors dni.

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist | spiderman!gojo masterlist

fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.

of course, that depends on your local hours and where you live, but in the campus starbucks you worked at, your manager fortunately didn’t really care if you showed up to your opening shift a bit late. after all, no professor or undergrad is waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a fuckin coffee; if they really needed a pick me up, they’d go to get the free alcohol at one of the frats that was still partying. 

matter of fact, your manager didn’t really give a fuck what you did as long as you didn’t get the shop blown up or the matcha spilled (it was expensive). this meant you could leisurely wake up at 4:45am and set up the display muffins and cake pops when you arrived in the shop at 5:20am. really, the manager ought to reduce the hours because all you do is finish your readings for your gen ed history classes on the canvas app on your phone. so, really you get paid for doing your homework on your shifts—not that you’re complaining or anything.

that is, until gojo satoru.

first, let’s get the record straight about who gojo is. gojo is a physics second-year—same as you–who is the bane of your existence. up until a few months ago, you never saw gojo satoru outside of classes (where he was dozing off) unless you happened to show up at a frat party, which was only a few occurrences when you got peer pressured by your friends. clearly, he was a “work hard, party hard” type person because he frequents the frats more than the library while having the grades to make up for it because he’s a prodigy. he’s charismatic and smart as fuck; right out of middle school he was studying manifolds and abstract algebra while the rest of the high school freshmen were learning the quadratic equation and the concept of variables. he probably learned what gravity was at age of two and was doing research in quantum field theory by the time he got into college. 

take the last time you saw him outside of class, at office hours with professor yaga.

the air in professor yaga’s office is thick with the scent of old textbooks, the hum of the overhead lights adding to the familiar quiet. you’ve been waiting all week for this chance, and you’re armed with a question that’s supposed to signal i’ve done my homework. you lean forward, trying to project confidence as you ask, “i read in your last paper that you’re working on optimizing error correction in quantum computing systems. is there a reason you prioritized stabilizer codes over surface codes?”

professor yaga’s brow lifts, impressed, and you can feel the warmth of his approval starting to settle around you. “ah,” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised, “you’ve actually read it. that’s... a complicated question.” he leans back, launching into an explanation, and for a second, you think this might actually be it—the moment he notices you for your dedication, your depth of knowledge.

but then, the door creaks open behind you.

you tense, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach even before you turn around. of course, it’s gojo satoru, strolling in like he owns the place. his bag is slung over one shoulder, and he’s flashing that easy grin that never seems to falter. he spares you the briefest glance before zeroing in on professor yaga.

professor yaga’s face shifts instantly, a mixture of annoyance and resignation flashing in his eyes as he sighs, “gojo. nice of you to join us.”

“hey, i was just passing by,” gojo says casually, though he’s clearly anything but. he doesn’t pass by anywhere without making an entrance. “thought i’d check in on how everyone’s doing.”

the glint in yaga’s eyes sharpens, and he fixes gojo with a look. “when’s that last problem set coming in, satoru? i’ve had enough late assignments from you for one semester.”

at this, another professor at a nearby desk chuckles, casting an amused glance at gojo. “don’t push him too hard, yaga,” he says as if gojo’s delinquency is something charming, a shared inside joke. “kid’s already got the department’s highest scores without trying.”

oh, for god’s fucking sake. you force yourself not to roll your eyes, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag as you sink back in your chair. of course, all it takes is for him to show up and somehow you’re rendered invisible. just minutes ago, professor yaga was engaging with you, treating you as if you might actually belong in this room with your carefully constructed question. now, he’s utterly distracted, entirely absorbed by whatever pseudo-flattering insults he’s throwing at gojo. and, for the record, that stupid, balding professor is wrong. you have the same fucking scores as gojo, so you’re equals.

you’re not even sure gojo realizes he’s doing it—that he has this magnetic, obnoxious effect on everyone in a room. but that’s exactly what grates on you the most. he pulls all eyes to him, like he’s some cosmic force everyone’s compelled to admire. and you? you’re just… there. not that it’s any different than the usual experiences you’ve had as a woman in stem, always feeling like you have to prove yourself five times over. but somehow, gojo makes it worse.

and he does it all effortlessly, like physics is some sort of playground where he can breeze through research and exams, sprinkling charisma wherever he goes. he’s probably off writing his own theories on manifolds while everyone else is struggling to keep up with quantum mechanics. meanwhile, here you are, clawing for every shred of recognition, only to watch it fizzle as soon as he steps into the room.

he flashes a grin at professor yaga. “i’ll get it in,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “i’m just, you know, prioritizing. some of us have… extracurriculars.” he doesn’t wink, but he might as well.

you resist the urge to scoff, sinking deeper into your seat as the frustration bubbles up, sharp and hot. it’s not like you’re jealous. you’d rather endure anything than admit that. but watching gojo waltz in and immediately siphon off any attention you’d managed to earn feels like a slap. if he could just stop showing up, or better yet, stop pretending to be so casually brilliant, maybe—just maybe—you’d have a chance at something other than this routine invisibility.

you let out a huff, pretending to check the time, imagining you had somewhere better to be. you have brilliant, observant blue eyes following you out the door, but you’re too busy trying to keep yourself together until you reach your dorm, where you ugly cry it out.

which, of course, brings you to mornings like this one, where you actually do have to be somewhere. namely, behind the counter at the campus starbucks, opening up shop while most of the world is still asleep. you catch sight of the green mermaid logo ahead, just visible through the dim haze of a 5:07 a.m. chill.

and right beneath it, there’s a familiar head of silver hair.

your eyes have to double take on the man who seems to be looking a bit slouched, tired and leaning against the light pole while tapping his foot. the muscular yet tall stature and white hair are unmistakable; it’s the same ones you’ve dreamed about throttling. but you’re so confused as to why he’s there that you just decide to wordlessly walk towards the store and open up, ignoring his presence until his voice cuts through the morning silence.

“doesn’t this store open up at 5?” his voice sounds tired and groggy, you notice. 

“uh, yea,” you answer tentatively, shrugging. “but, um, no one comes until 7 so i show up late.”

his eyes narrow and somewhat playfully (well, as playful as he can sound at the ass crack of dawn anyways), he asks, “don’t you know time is of the essence? seems pretty irresponsible to me that you’re not showing up on time.”

you just stare at him for a bit because, after all, this is the guy you’ve been having the murderous equivalent of wet dreams about for the past year talking to you in a friendly, joking, familiar way. needless to say, you’re at a loss of words in your slightly flustered state, so all that comes out is a short “sorry” before you’re walking in, getting ready to put on your apron and setting the oven on to heat up the croissants. 

gojo follows in after you, choosing to sit at the table closest to the counter. he sets the backpack he had on his back down, rummaging through and whipping out his laptop and plugging it in. it’s a heavy old thing, and gojo’s biceps strain as he pulls it out and you almost snort when looking at it in its entirety. a gaming laptop.

 but you don’t do that, because laughing at someone who’s a stranger to you would be mean, no matter how much you hate him, so you resort to setting up the counter and getting some powders out. bending over, you get the newly shipped box of cake pops, deigning to put them out on display until you’re interrupted with a cough.

you turn, looking inquisitively at gojo until he points down to the counter, indicating that he wants to order. you mumble, “just a second!” before you continue hauling the box to put it on the top counter where you can easily unpack it and brush your hands, walking up to gojo and getting the system ready to take his order. 

and your fingers are poised on the buttons until you realize that no order is coming out of his mouth. you blink, and he blinks, keeping a stoic face that nevertheless poorly conceals an amused expression.

“…what can i get you?” 

at that, he pouts. “no good morning? no chirpy hello?”

you just stare at him for a good second. what the fuck?

“what?” gojo frowns. “shouldn’t you do that to every customer?” you realize belatedly you’ve said it out loud in your shock, but shake it off nonetheless. 

the silence lingers after gojo’s teasing comment, making you acutely aware of the odd situation: you’re standing there in your work apron, face-to-face with the man you’ve imagined taking down in your head a thousand times, and yet here he is, tired but playfully trying to chat you up. you should hate this—he’s getting under your skin, but for some reason, you just feel unsettled, disturbed that he’s so human.

you don’t trust your voice to not crack while making eye contact with him, so, instead, you focus on your screen. you settle on a simple, flat, “morning,” without a hint of cheerfulness, staring down at the register like it’s your lifeline.

gojo’s eyebrow quirks at your half-hearted greeting, but he says nothing, opting instead to study you with an amused glint. you can feel his gaze, like a weight on your skin, and it almost makes you shiver. he leans forward a little, propping his elbows on the counter, his posture loose but expectant. his playful energy is barely masking something beneath it, something harder.

gojo's grin is wide, almost boyish, and it makes your stomach churn more than it should.

“see? was that so hard?” he says, leaning forward on his elbows like he’s settling in for a chat. his tone is too friendly for someone who’s never exchanged more than a glance with you in class—someone you’ve been actively avoiding whenever possible.

you scowl, moving to the register to finally punch in his order. “what would you like?”

“hmm...” he taps his chin, dragging out the silence. he’s enjoying this, that much is obvious. “surprise me.”

you blink, fingers still poised over the buttons. “surprise you?”

“yeah,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “you work here. you know what’s good.”

you want to throttle him. really, truly throttle him. there’s no way this is real—no way the gojo satoru is sitting in front of you at 5:07 in the morning, asking you to surprise him with a starbucks order like he’s some quirky regular.

and yet, here you are.

“fine,” you mutter, punching in the order for the sweetest, most ridiculous concoction you can think of. caramel drizzle, extra whipped cream, a pump of every syrup in the back room—you’re not going easy on him. “that’ll be eight dollars.”

he doesn’t blink at the ridiculous price. of course, he doesn’t.

pulling out his phone, he taps it against the card reader and flashes you another grin. “thanks, i’m sure it’ll be great.”

you barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “uh-huh.”

as you move to make the drink, the silence between you stretches uncomfortably. you’ve spent so much time thinking about gojo, despising him, that now that he’s here, right in front of you, you don’t know how to act. and the worst part? he seems perfectly at ease, completely unfazed by the fact that you’ve spent the better part of a year dreaming of his downfall. he’s back to looking at his stupid heavy ahh gaming laptop, and as you move over to put in copious amounts of caramel pumps, you notice that he’s on cool math games playing fireboy and watergirl and almost snort out loud. he’s locked in on his game, his legs moving up and down anxiously, reminiscent of an ipad kid.

after a few minutes of assembling his monstrosity of a drink, you slide it across the counter. “here,” you say, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

gojo raises an eyebrow at the drink, the sheer volume of whipped cream threatening to spill over the lid. “wow,” he says, sounding genuinely impressed. “you really went all out.”

“you said to surprise you.”

“i did,” he admits, grabbing the cup and taking a slow, deliberate sip. his eyes widen slightly at the overly sweet taste, and for a brief moment, you think you’ve won.

but then he smiles again, that same irritatingly carefree smile, and you know you haven’t. 

“so,” gojo begins, leaning back in his chair like he’s settling in for a long conversation. “what’s a genius like you doing working the early shift at starbucks?”

your hands freeze mid-clean, and you glance at him sharply. genius?

you can’t tell if he’s being sincere or mocking you—probably the latter, considering who he is—but the word still lingers in the air between you, unsettling.

you scoff, trying to brush it off. “gotta pay the bills somehow,” you mutter, going back to wiping down the counter. but gojo’s gaze is heavy on you, and you can tell he’s not letting it go.

you glance up at him. “look, i like having time to think in the mornings. it’s quiet. besides, no one’s lining up for coffee before 7, so it’s not like i’m missing anything.”

gojo chuckles softly, but there’s something off about it. “thinking time, huh?” he repeats your words, but there’s a strange edge to them, like he’s mulling them over. in fact, you think you just realize that he’s been acting oddly this entire morning, restlessness evident in his figure. he taps his fingers on the table, his eyes flickering to the window, watching the gray morning light spill into the shop.

“doesn’t it ever feel like…” he trails off, brow furrowing slightly. “i don’t know… like you should be doing something else? like… something more?”

his question hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken, but you get the feeling he’s not talking about you. there’s something in his voice, something that sounds like he’s grappling with his own thoughts, with his own place in the world.

for a moment, you’re tempted to brush him off. to tell him he’s overthinking things, that he’s gojo satoru and he already has everything laid out for him. but something stops you. maybe it’s the way he looks—his usual confidence slightly cracked at the edges, his playful tone masking something else. something deeper.

you shrug, turning back to the counter. “i mean… it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”

there’s a pause, and you can feel the weight of your words sinking in. gojo goes quiet, really quiet, and when you glance back at him, his usual smirk is gone. he’s just… staring at you, eyes narrowed slightly like he’s trying to figure you out.

“just… showing up, huh?” he repeats softly, almost like he’s testing the words. his fingers stop tapping, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze unfocused, like he’s somewhere else entirely. somewhere in his own head.

you don’t say anything else. you’ve said your piece, and somehow, you know it hit deeper than either of you expected. there’s a strange silence between you now, not uncomfortable, but heavy with understanding.

gojo stands up after a long pause, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. he looks at you, his usual grin slipping back into place, but it’s softer now. less cocky. more real.

“maybe you’re right,” he says, and this time there’s no teasing in his voice. “sometimes it’s enough just to show up.”

and with that, he gives you a small nod, turning and heading out into the cold morning. the door swings shut behind him, and for a second, you just stand there, staring after him.

something’s shifted. you don’t know what it is, but it feels like the start of something. something bigger than just a rivalry.

you shake your head, turning back to the counter. it’s too early for this shit.

…

“you know, i didn’t get your name.”

gojo’s voice cuts through the low hum of the espresso machine as he leans against the counter, that same insufferable grin plastered across his face. he’s here again, of course, only this time it’s during your closing shift. the place is quiet, almost deserted except for the occasional customer who swings by for a quick coffee before heading back out into the cold.

you look up from the equipment you were cleaning, already annoyed. “i’m pretty sure we’ve shared at least one class every semester.”

you weren’t trying to hide the pettiness. gojo, for all his academic genius, clearly couldn’t be bothered to remember you—a recurring face in his orbit. it’s not like you were expecting him to remember you, especially among the sea of faces in lecture halls, but something about the way he strolled in, acting like this was just some cute, quirky meet-cute, got under your skin.

gojo quirks an eyebrow in confusion, his gaze drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching the recesses of his mind for your name—only to come up empty. “are you a grad student?”

you flash him an exasperated look. “just for that, i’m not telling you.”

grabbing a towel to wipe your hands, you step out from behind the barista counter, heading towards the trash can just behind him to restock the straws. as you make your way to the supply room, you can feel his eyes following your every move. to your surprise, gojo starts walking toward you, his presence looming as you dump the straws into the container.

it isn’t until you turn around that you realize he’s standing right next to you, bent comically at the waist and squinting at something on your chest. heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks as you realize his proximity and move to take a step back. 

he wasn’t ogling you (thank god), but instead, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron.

"ah," he says, straightening up with a triumphant grin. “there it is. y/n, huh?” the way his mouth rolls over your name slowly makes you feel a bit weird, because after all, this is the guy you’ve shit talked about in your diary finally acknowledging you existed, but before you can reflect on the feeling, you bristle again in annoyance. 

“really? you had to get that close just to read my name?”

gojo doesn’t seem fazed by your annoyance, in fact, it only seems to amuse him further. “hey, i was just trying to be thorough. gotta make sure i get it right, you know?” his grin widens, and you swear he’s enjoying this way too much.

“thorough. sure.” you turn away, trying to busy yourself with the straws again, but the heat still lingers on your face. his proximity had been… unexpected. and a little too close for comfort.

when you’re done with the straws, you steel the courage to turn your body so you’re facing him, making an indication with your hands for him to move out of your way. instead of him giving you space to leave the cramped corner, he leans against the counter now like he practically owns the place. in doing so, he effectively pins you against the corner of the coffee shop, leaving you no option but to fiddle with the straws while pointedly avoiding his gaze, but not before you see the pout on his face. “you’re not going to ask me for my name?”

“i know it. it’s gojo.” you immediately curse yourself for letting your lips loose.

fuck. he squints his eyes in what you perceive as suspicion. “how do you know my name?”

“i saw it on your credit card information.” you couldn’t exactly tell him how you’ve stalked him (as well as how inefficient you found a function in his 6th grade robotics code), so that would be a plausible enough reason. 

but gojo, of course, doesn’t let up. “so, y/n,” he starts. “you going to the party next week? you know, for halloweekend?”

ah, halloweekend. the ultimate weekend for getting excuses to dress slutilly, excessively drink, and get laid. at your college, it was an even bigger deal, with people partying for all three days of the week’s end as well as the weekend before and after halloween. you shook your head. “i don’t think so.” that phys 321 assignment was not going to finish itself, nor were parties really your scene.

“what?” he immediately crosses his arms across his chest, frowning and leaning closer to you to squint at you. “why?”

you sigh inwardly, awkward at the prospect of him bugging you further about your life. “i’m bu—”

you’re interrupted by the sound of the door opening and instinctively move to get behind the counter to take the new customer’s order; at first, you thank the heavens that you got a distraction from gojo, that you’re not alone anymore, but seeing who the customer was, the hope extinguishes like a candle face with wind.

you both see a man swagger in, the same guy you’ve noticed hanging around far too often lately. his eyes immediately lock onto you, and a slow, sleazy grin spreads across his face.

“hey, look who’s still here,” the man says, sauntering over to the counter like he owns the place. “my favorite barista.”

you tense, forcing a smile. “what can i get you?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his gaze sliding down your body in a way that makes your skin crawl. “i was thinking…” he drawls, leaning in closer than necessary, “you and i should hang out. you’re always here, and i’m always here, so it’s like fate or something, right?”

your stomach churns, and you take a small step back, maintaining your composure. “i’m good, thanks.”

but he doesn’t let up, leaning further across the counter. “come on, don’t be like that. just one drink. you deserve it after a long day.”

“i really can’t—”

“don’t be shy,” he interrupts, a grin spreading wider. “i’m a nice guy, i promise.”

before you can think of another polite rejection, gojo steps forward, his body language shifting entirely. the playful air around him evaporates, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. he positions himself squarely between you and the guy, effectively cutting off the man’s view of you.

“she said no,” gojo says, his voice firm, low. “so why don’t you fuck off?”

the sleazy guy blinks, clearly not expecting the sudden shift. his smile fades, and he glares at gojo, sizing him up like he’s considering pushing back. but one glance at gojo’s unwavering stare, and the guy decides it’s not worth it. with a muttered curse, he turns and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. the guy’s been bothering you routinely; part of you thinks that he’s still not going to leave you alone, but the rest of you visibly relaxes, the weight of this guy’s harassment lifting off your shoulders under gojo’s protection.

gojo turns back to you, the usual teasing smirk creeping back onto his face, though his eyes are still sharp. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you manage, though your voice is quieter than you’d like. “thanks for that.”

“don’t mention it.” he shrugs it off like it was nothing, but there’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something protective. “i know you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, but i figured i’d speed things up a bit.”

you roll your eyes, trying to shake off the tension. “you’re such a hero, gojo.”

“always,” he replies with a wink. and just like that, the moment’s lightened again, the balance between you restored, though there’s a subtle shift in the air. something unspoken between the two of you—an understanding, maybe.

you don’t acknowledge it out loud, but as you go back to restocking, you find yourself glancing at him more than before. and for the first time in… well, ever, you don’t completely mind his presence.

…

fast forward a few hours, and after a bit of conversation, gojo finally leaves the fine institution that is your campus starbucks. right now, you’re alone and finishing cleaning up. you lock up, the starbucks finally closed, finishing your last task for the night. it’s quiet—too quiet, actually, with the usual streetlights casting strange shadows across the empty sidewalk. the air feels heavy, like something unseen is lingering just out of reach, watching from the dark. you shake it off, telling yourself you’re just tired and letting your nerves get to you.

as you start your walk back to your dorm, the feeling only grows. the street’s nearly empty, and with each step, the silence presses in closer. it’s fine, you tell yourself, picking up your pace. but then you hear it: the echo of footsteps, faint but unmistakable. heart pounding, you speed up, every instinct telling you to just get back. almost there. you just have to cross the alley—

“hey there,” a voice drawls, and your stomach sinks. a hand moves to grab at your shoulder, making you turn quickly. what meets your vision is the same guy from earlier, his grin widening in a way that makes your skin crawl.

you try to move out of his grip, but he grabs you harder, cutting off any escape. “aw, don’t be like that. i just wanted some company.”

your throat’s dry, but you manage, “i said no.”

he doesn’t even pretend to listen, his gaze trailing over you with that same leering interest. “no need to be so uptight. i could make this fun for you.”

your back hits the wall of the alley. trapped. he leans in, his breath warm and sour against your face, one hand reaching out as he says something sleazy that you can barely hear over the pounding in your ears—

and then a voice cuts in from above, all easy humor. “y’know, i always thought this city’s trash problem was bad, but this is something else.”

your heart leaps in your chest at the small flicker of hope, that someone has the balls to try to rescue you. but as you—and this creep—turn, you find no evidence of another party present, only his mysterious presence. 

“who’s there?” the guy snarls, his grip tightening so much that you wince. “why don’t you get lost if you know what’s good for you—”

“dude, don’t you have any rizz?” the mysterious boy retorts.the stranger has a youthful voice, someone of your age.  “the way you have to resort to sexual harassment is just sad. you guys are always sooo predictable, you’re so gonna tell me to scram or something.”

the man scowls, hand leaving your arm in an effort to search for the stranger in the dark. “why don’t you mind your own business, punk—”

and he’s interrupted, because a shiny, silver something flings out in the darkness and lands on his face, sending his arms in a frenzy to uncover what it is. the man rips the sticky, silver webbing off his face with a growl, looking around wildly, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. his eyes dart through the dark alley, searching for the source of that cocky voice, but there’s nothing—just shadows and the faint flicker of a streetlamp somewhere down the block.

“who the hell are you?” he snaps, twisting his neck as if he could scare whoever’s hiding out there into the open. “show yourself, you bastard!”

a chuckle echoes from the darkness, bouncing off the brick walls. “wow, real tough guy, huh? but you should work on those anger issues. they’re, uh…a bit unbecoming.”

the man spins around, and another burst of webbing flies out from somewhere unseen, sticking to his shoulder this time. he yanks it off with a frustrated grunt, his head whipping from side to side as he tries to locate the stranger.

“you think this is funny?” he spits, voice raised in a mix of fear and fury.

“depends. do you?” the voice is closer now, almost like the stranger is right above you, yet no one’s there. “or is this just a big overreaction? all i did was suggest you rethink your approach. go to therapy or sum’.”

the man snarls, fists clenched, starting to look downright unhinged. “get down here and say that to my face, punk!”

“as you wish.”

with a soft thump, a figure drops from above, landing directly in front of the guy in a low crouch. in the dim light, all you see at first are the blue and black accents on the otherwise white suit, his head tilting up, illuminated just enough that his white, wide eyes glow with a certain playful menace. and then, your eyes widen as you gasp to yourself. 

you’ve seen him before.

okay, pause.

you’re a busy college student, one who stays entrenched in the bubble of upcoming exams, assignments, and problem sets that you don’t check the news often. in the off chance you do turn from your usual consumption of social media during your breaks to the news, you only have time to read the big headlines.

so you did read somewhere that in your university’s city of new york city, there was a masked menan—vigilante that had beat up a few guys near a shawarma joint or prevented some shootings at a nightclub. new york city was full of incompetent cops that were on the lookout for him (a/n acabbbbbb) since this guy was a vigilante, some kind of superhero slinging around on webs. some name—spiderman.

but before you could read more into the article, your soul almost left your body when you got a canvas notification saying your midterm was graded, so that was the end of that.

alright, pause over. back to now.

“hi!” spiderman chirps, giving him a friendly wave before ducking just as the man throws a punch. the swing goes wide, and spiderman straightens up with a disappointed sigh. “see, this is why i’m the one with the web powers. you’d hurt yourself with these moves.”

without warning, the man charges again, swinging in rapid succession, but each one misses as spiderman easily sidesteps, practically dancing around him. “oof, dude, how did you make it this far in life with reflexes like that?” he ducks another blow, slipping behind the guy to give him a light tap on the shoulder as he passes.

the man stumbles, eyes flashing with frustration, and lets out a roar, reaching down to pick up a loose brick from the alley floor. he raises it above his head, face twisted in a snarl.

“oh, so we’re improvising now?” spiderman quips, and before the man can bring the brick down, a strand of webbing shoots out, sticking to the brick and yanking it from his grasp. it flies off somewhere into the alley, landing with a dull clatter.

the guy stumbles forward, off balance, and spiderman takes the opportunity to web his feet to the ground, immobilizing him in place. the man struggles, pulling his legs, but he’s stuck fast.

“ever heard of boundaries?” spiderman asks, tilting his head with mock innocence. “or, like, self-restraint? you should look into it.”

the man glares, seething, still struggling against the webs. “you think you’re some kinda hero?” he sneers.

spiderman shrugs, glancing over at you, catching your gaze in a way that makes you feel both strangely comforted and seen. “nah, hero’s a big word. i’m just your friendly neighborhood guy with slightly above-average reflexes.”

with a frustrated yell, the man finally wrenches one arm free and makes a desperate lunge, his fist connecting with spiderman’s side. spiderman lets out a small grunt but only wobbles slightly before grinning. “okay, buddy, playtime’s over.”

before the man can even react, spiderman sends out another web, this time at his wrist, effectively pinning him to the alley wall. he struggles, face twisted in anger, but spiderman just raises a gloved hand to his lips as if hushing a child. then, in the lull that follows, you remember the thick quantum mechanics textbook in your bag. without thinking, you yank it out and, in a burst of adrenaline, swing it at the man’s head. the book lands with a solid thud, and he slumps, finally, into silence.

spiderman looks at the unconscious man, then at the textbook in your hand. he lets out a low whistle. “you know, i’ve always thought textbooks were a weapon of choice, but that’s next-level dedication.” that’s when you realize just how tall he is compared to you, and you can’t help your excitement when you realize that he’s here in the flesh.

“nice hit, by the wa—”

“it’s you!” you exclaim. 

“what?” he sputters, white eyes widening almost comically. “me? oh,” then he straightens up, “yea, yea. just your friendly neighborhood spiderman. rescuing pretty girls from creeps, kinda my thing. ” he shrugs.

you continue, excitedly, “right, you’re the one on the news—” you move your hand to point at him but quickly wince, the pain of the man’s grip catching up to you. 

he doesn’t miss the movement, eyes squinting at you. “hey, we’ll have to get you home. do you trust me?”

you look at him, clutching your arm in pain, and really take a moment to check him out. he’s saved you, he’s probably six feet tall, and his ass looks fantastic in his suit. at this point, you’re looking at him with heart eyes. but you can’t exactly tell him you want him to propose, so all you utter out is a “y-yeah. my dorm’s randall.”

he doesn't waste any time. with a quick nod, he hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he aims a webline up toward the buildings. “hold on tight, randall’s just a swing away,” he murmurs, his voice light but steady. his hand settles on your hip, and you can't stop the way your stomach flips at the contact.

before you can even process what’s happening, he launches the two of you into the air, the city blurring beneath your feet as you cling to him, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit for dear life. his arm stays solid around you, his grip somehow both gentle and strong. he lands lightly on the roof of your dorm, setting you down carefully like you’re something fragile. and he steps back, dusting his hands off in the most nonchalant way possible, like he didn’t just take you on the most exhilarating ride of your life.

“this is your stop,” he says, that signature, almost cocky smile playing in his voice.

“uh… yeah. thanks. for the rescue,” you manage, your voice a little shakier than you’d like. you don’t know if “thank you” is enough—it doesn’t even come close to covering what you feel.

but he just shrugs, taking a step back. “all in a day’s work,” he says. “or night’s work, i guess.” he pauses, giving you a quick once-over. “get some sleep, yeah?”

and just like that, he gives you a small, almost playful salute and vanishes, swinging off into the night as easily as he’d appeared, leaving you standing on the rooftop with your heart still racing.

back in your dorm room, you drop onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling as tonight’s events replay in your head: the alley, his voice cutting through the dark, that cocky smirk, the way he felt holding onto you as you soared over the city lights. a tiny part of you wonders if you imagined the whole thing—if maybe you’re just the victim of some wild, sleep-deprived hallucination.

but no, your arm still aches from where the creep grabbed you, and you can still feel the ghost of his hand on your waist, steady and reassuring. you bite your lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself.

just before sleep finally claims you, you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “the city’s vigilante, huh?” you murmur, as if he’s somehow still listening.

the thought is wild, a bit surreal—and strangely comforting.

…

“one caffe americano!” you call out, reading the label on the cup before handing it over with a small nod. the customer takes it with a quick thanks, and you return to the counter, barely holding back a yawn. the events of last night flicker through your mind—a web-slinging hero, an alley, the lingering ache in your arm—and you shake it off. there’s no room for distractions. life as a college student means the grind never stops, especially on a morning shift right before class.

when your coworker finally arrives, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, grab your bag, and step out into the brisk morning air. the chill helps wake you up as you make your way across campus, hoping to catch up with your friends before the lecture starts. just outside the building, you spot utahime, sitting on a bench, waiting with her usual tired smile.

“hey, finally off the clock?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, barely,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “i’m still running on fumes from last night. you guys save me a seat?”

“of course. nanami’s already inside,” she says, gesturing toward the building.

you sigh. “you won’t believe the things that happened last night.”

she gives you a look, in the traditional utahime protective-mother-hen type way. “what happened?”

you give her the rundown of what happened, the guy (who she bristles at, gives you a slap at your hand to tell you that you should’ve told her earlier, kento would’ve been able to beat his ass if she hadn’t gotten to it first) and how spiderman saved you. “i would give him what he’s missing,” you sigh, dreamily. 

utahime looks at you in a judgmental way. “and that’s all you got from this? for fucks sake, he’s a vigilante, you don’t know if he’s started to tail you or not. pooks, he could literally be dangerous. try to convince your boss to let someone else get your night shift.” as soon as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off immediately. “and no, i don’t give a fuck about your people pleaser tendenci—”

“we’ll revisit this conversation later.” you give her a sweet smile as you start to speed walk, door of the lecture hall of the 9am section of phys401: intro to quantum algorithms, falling in with the usual stream of students after you hear an irritated “yea, cause i’m gonna kill you otherwise.” the familiar chatter and echo of footsteps make the day feel almost normal, grounding you as you weave through the hall.

inside, you quickly spot kento’s shining, disney prince-like blonde hair, who has saved seats for the three of you near the middle of the hall, away from the ugly, smelly grad students who always crowd the front. he gives you a quick nod as you settle down beside him, flipping open your notebook. the reliable calm on his face helps ease the lingering jitters you hadn’t realized you were carrying.

“long night?” he asks, glancing at the dark circles under your eyes.

“you could say that,” you mumble, not quite ready to get into details. instead, you wave it off. “just work assignments, and getting jumped, the usual.”

nanami breaks into a series of shocked coughs, and you hurry to pat his back as he undeniably burns his tongue on the coffee he was taking a sip of. “what?”

his rather loud exclamation sets off stares from people sitting closer to you both, so you give utahime, who lets out a quiet groan as she’s settling into her seat beside you, a knowing look. “it’s a long story, i’ll tell it to you later.”

he reluctantly settles in after that, not because he has a choice but because yaga is starting to address the class by asking about the weekend and getting his usual blank stares in return until a voice you recognize as suguru geto’s is saying something to undeniably piss him off, but you don’t register quite what it is exactly because the door opens and any attention on geto is directed to the boy with white hair and blue eyes tiredly walking into class. 

he’s about ten minutes late to the lecture, which is already weird because he’s usually about 27 seconds late, not that you keep count. but also, normally gojo is the picture of confidence and cockyness, making some of the female grad students whisper things about him that you don’t think they should be for the five year gap between them and gojo. 

but today, he looks different—messy, unkempt, with shadows under his eyes and a weird angle to his torso, the way he walks, and the way his opposite hand is subconsciously hovering around his side.

your brows knit together as he heads to an empty seat rows behind you next to geto, ignoring the stares of half the room. it’s so out of character for him that you can’t help but wonder what’s going on. you shoot utahime a knowing look, and she stifles a laugh, barely managing to keep a straight face as she watches gojo slink to his seat. nanami’s usually impassive face exchanges a look with you as well before he turns his attention back to professor yaga’s opening remarks. gojo slides into the row behind you without a word, avoiding everyone’s gaze—or so you think, until you feel it.

as you attempt to listen to professor yaga, you can’t shake the sensation of eyes boring into the back of your head. you resist the urge to turn, telling yourself it’s probably nothing… except the feeling lingers, so strong that your pulse ticks up a notch.

“okay, now that we’re all here,” yaga says in a dry tone, barely able to hide his irritation as he glances pointedly in gojo’s direction, “let’s begin with today’s lecture on grover’s.”

professor yaga taps the board, and the projector switches to a set of slides titled quantum speed-up and the grover search algorithm. he launches into his explanation, voice clipped. “grover’s algorithm provides a quadratic speed-up for unstructured search problems, a notable advantage in quantum computing. but can anyone tell me why this isn’t considered an exponential improvement?”

you raise your hand, as does nanami. a subtle shift of movement in your peripheral vision draws your eye to gojo, who’s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. yaga’s attention lands on nanami first, and he gives a succinct answer about how grover’s algorithm yields only a quadratic speed-up in terms of computational complexity. as he answers, you swear you catch gojo watching you, again, through the corner of your eye.

determined not to let him get under your skin, you lean over to whisper to nanami. “what’s with him today?”

nanami, still watching yaga, raises a brow. “maybe he finally realized that he can’t get by without skipping class today.”

utahime snickers quietly. “doubtful. more like he thinks it’s funny to waltz in whenever he likes and still ace every test.”

“exactly.” you sigh, drumming your pen against your notebook. gojo’s rare absences don’t even seem to faze most professors. and despite his unpredictable attendance, he’s always managed to stay miles ahead. today, though, something’s… different about him. like he’s made a life changing decision in the past 48 hours.

“moving on,” yaga says, pointing to the board where the next slide materializes. “the heart of grover’s algorithm lies in its use of an amplitude amplification technique, where we iterate a search oracle along with an inversion process. pay attention—this concept of iterative improvement will become key when we start covering variational quantum algorithms.”

as yaga delves deeper into amplitude amplification, you manage to focus, jotting down notes on the necessary steps in grover’s search. yet each time you settle into the lecture, you feel gojo’s gaze pricking at you. the first time you turn around, there’s nothing there—just him slouched, seemingly absorbed in whatever he’s staring at on the ceiling. but then, you sense it again and, on your second glance, you catch his blue eyes meeting yours, and he quickly looks away.

what’s his problem? you give him a questioning look, but he’s adamantly not looking at you, trying to look nonchalant as he’s pulling out his laptop. he might look like a student taking latexing notes of what yaga’s yapping about, but the way he’s using his mouse more than he is his keyboard tells you that he’s probably on papa’s freezeria instead.

you decide that you’re going to waste your time wondering how gojo’s brain functioned, so you instead focus back on the lecture. after all, you didn’t understand any of the lecture notes you took notes on before and what it said about the diffuser in the circuit. 

“now,” yaga’s voice sharpens, pulling you back into the room, “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of being late.” his eyes slide back to gojo, who remains oblivious, leaning back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as the sound of his name brings him back to the lecture.

gojo doesn’t even look phased. instead, he raises a hand casually, like he’s about to ask a simple question. you can feel the anticipation ripple through the room—half the students are waiting to see if he’ll fumble, and the other half already know better.

“professor yaga,” he drawls, “don’t you think amplitude amplification is a bit of an oversimplification? the way it’s typically presented, you’d think grover’s algorithm was just… guessing with style.” he flashes an infuriatingly smug smile, drawing out the pause before continuing. “but we both know it’s more about quantum phase inversion, right? the oracle reflects about the mean state, iterating with a precision that isn’t just luck. or maybe that’s all too technical?” he leans back, feigning innocence.

the smugness in his tone makes something flare up in you, and before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots up.

“actually, gojo,” you interject, your voice louder than you intended, “calling it “guessing with style” is a very gross oversimplification. grover’s algorithm isn’t about intuition or luck. it’s about optimization. it’s not just about spotlighting a target like a rando guess, it’s more like rotating the probability in a controlled manner—with iterations—to amplify the correct solution. not just some quantum trick or guess.” you cross your arms, leaning back in your chair as you stare him down. “it’s not even that bad, compared to what we have classically.”

as soon as you spoke, it seems that the fight and mischievous look in gojo’s eyes fades, replacing it with something that shockingly looks like him being flustered as he averts your gaze, looks to the ceiling, and murmurs something like “yea, that’s basically most of quantum computing, desperately trying to prove we’re not just wasting our time” but yaga interrupts him, clearly a bit annoyed at the two know-it-alls that you and gojo were acting like. 

“now,” yaga says, shifting back to the lecture as if nothing happened (probably because he wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit), “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of missing lectures.”

you’re just left confused as to why the conversation didn’t escalate like the typical academic rivals in movies, because you’ve definitely seen gojo bully some people who didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about instead of just blushing like some schoolgirl. regardless, you can’t help but notice the thrill that you felt, having finally argued with him, having been seen as someone worth arguing. you try to temper it as yaga continues onto the rest of the lecture.

…

“i can’t believe you’re making me go.” you tug at the hem of your white corset, paired with a matching skirt, still incredulous at how utahime managed to talk you into attending one of the infamous halloween frat parties. the night air is crisp against your exposed shoulders, and despite your complaints, you shiver more at the thought of wasting the next few hours among sweaty strangers than the actual cold.

utahime, walking beside you in a devil-red version of your outfit—complete with horns perched precariously on her head—looks far too satisfied with herself. she adjusts the horns with one hand, giving you a sidelong glance that practically drips with smugness.

“stop pouting,” she chides. “i’m not going to let you waste another night holed up in your room, buried in manhwa or quantum physics. i’m pretty sure there are cobwebs growing in your—”

“utahime,” you hiss, cutting her off with a mortified glance around.

“pussy,” she finishes, completely unbothered. “i’m going to find you a guy to hook up with. i’m not saying you have to go all the way, but flirting? kissing? maybe something more? very healthy. highly encouraged.”

your mouth falls open in protest, but before you can get a word in, she fixes you with a sharp glare, her dark eyes flashing with all the authority of a disappointed parent. “don’t even think about arguing with me. i swear, if you don’t at least try to enjoy this, i’ll make it my personal mission to find someone for you.”

“i can’t believe this,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “you’re supposed to be my friend, not my pimp.”

“oh, i’m your friend. that’s why i’m doing this. you’ll thank me when you’re sixty and not crying about how boring your college life was.”

“i’m not boring,” you counter. “i’m selective.”

“sure,” utahime drawls, clearly unconvinced. “and whatever weird sexual tension you’ve got going on with gojo doesn’t count.”

you scoff, stopping in your tracks to stare at her. “what tension? we’ve literally talked once this week. and that was the first time we had a conversation.”

she doesn’t respond, already scanning the scene ahead. the street of frat houses looms just ahead, glowing with gaudy orange lights strung up across balconies. the bass from the nearest party reverberates through the pavement underfoot. it’s already crowded, hordes of people shuffling in and out, laughing, shouting, and showcasing their half-baked halloween costumes.

you follow utahime’s gaze to the nearest house, packed with enough people to make the windows fog up. just the thought of squeezing into that humidity makes your stomach churn.

“looks crowded,” you mumble. “maybe we should—”

before you can suggest retreating, utahime grabs your wrist and practically drags you toward the house. “nope. you’re coming in. no backing out now.”

the moment you step inside, the smell hits you. sweat, stale beer, and an undercurrent of what you can only describe as frat-house musk. your nose wrinkles, and you instinctively recoil, pulling your arm free from utahime’s grasp.

“god, it smells like a gym locker in here,” you say, covering your nose.

utahime doesn’t seem fazed. she’s already scanning the room, her eyes landing on a beer pong table set up in the corner, surrounded by cheering students. “this is perfect!” she says, beaming.

“for what? contracting a fungal infection?” you mutter.

but she’s no longer listening, her focus shifting as a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a makeshift cowboy hat approaches her and then stops in front of both of you, his stare fully enthralled by utahime. “hey,” he says, a bit suavely, in the way that makes you inwardly roll your eyes because you know she’s going to eat it up. she likes it when they’re a little ugly, and this guy fits the bill. 

“hey,” and she giggles, making you have to physically fight the urge to puke, “what’s up?”

 they exchange a few words, and before you know it, she’s smiling in that way that tells you she’s found her entertainment for the night.

“go ahead,” you say dryly, waving her off. “i’ll just fend for myself.”

utahime starts to protest, but you’re already beelining for the kitchen, trying to get a drink that’s not too crazy to survive the night. it’s surprisingly less chaotic in the kitchen, though the counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and some questionable punch that looks radioactive. you scan the room, your eyes landing on a cupboard that might hold something simple—like water. a series of ding! ding! ding!’s go off in your mind as you find the pack of plastic water bottles. 

standing on your toes, you reach for the handle, but it’s just out of your grasp. you huff in frustration, shifting to get better leverage when a hand way bigger than yours suddenly appears above yours, effortlessly grabbing the item you were reaching for.

“let me get that for you.”

you turn to thank the person, the words dying on your lips when you see who it is.

gojo.

he’s standing impossibly close, his signature smirk firmly in place, but there’s something almost casual in the way he looks at you, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. you swear you’re so close that you can see like the two open pores on his otherwise flawless skin, as his eyes inevitably drag themselves downwards to scan your outfit for the night—a shitty angel without wings and halo (you couldn’t be paid two shits to put in the effort; both of the top and skirt were utahime’s, anyways.) then, his eyes meet yours again, a bit of playfulness in them. 

“well, well,” he drawls, handing you the water bottle. “never thought i’d see you here.”

you take the bottle, trying to ignore the brush of his fingers against yours. “didn’t have much of a choice. utahime dragged me.”

his grin widens. “classic. let me guess—she’s off trying to find her soulmate at the beer pong table?”

“something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. twisting the cap off the bottle,  you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.

“so,” he says, tilting his head, “i heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that spider-man guy this week.”

that makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in kirkland signature natural spring water. you’ve only told like, three people outside of kento and iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. the memory of spider-man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “it was amazing. he’s—he’s incredible, honestly. the way he just swooped in and handled everything? so fast, so precise. he’s like a real-life superhero.”

you’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. he’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “sounds like you’re smitten.”

“maybe i am,” you admit, laughing. “i mean, who wouldn’t be? he’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. it’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” you also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare gojo the details. 

“untouchable, huh?” gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “don’t be ridiculous.”

“i’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. superheroes are overrated.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and what, you’re not?”

he grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “i’m better. i’m real.” he then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “i can prove that to you.”

and you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “god, you’re insufferable.”

“really?” he teases. his hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. the motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. and your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.

"yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds. 

it seems to have an effect on gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "wastin' your time on that spiderman guy."

maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "who should i spend my time on instead?"

he gives you a little smile as he stares down at you, eyes raking over your face, catching at your lips and then going back up again to meet yours. “i don’t know, someone who’s as smart as you,” he murmurs.

“yea?” you laugh out breathlessly. your faces are so close that in normal circumstances, you would worry about how you both looked so close together, one hand on your thigh and the other splayed on your waist. “and how would you know how smart i am?”

satoru starts, lips coming closer and closer. “because i—”

but he’s interrupted, because you both hear a “satoru” and pull apart, breathing heavily as you both turn to look at the offender standing in the entrance of the kitchen: suguru geto, gojo’s best friend, looking more tired than anything as his eyes catch on you, then going to gojo with a pointed look. it’s not hard to figure out what was going on based on how disheveled you both look, your skirt crooked and his shirt crumbled, and your cheeks heat. before you can say anything, however, suguru sighs and says to gojo, “there’s a burglary happening nearby.” then, he turns but not before giving you a nod. “make sure to stay safe.”

he promptly leaves, leaving you confused standing there. was this such an emergency worth noting that he interrupted his best friend?

you try to seek the answer in gojo’s face, but he has this conflicted, annoyed countenance and you suddenly feel kinda of insecure because he’s raking his hand through his hair, staring painfully at the ceiling then at you. at the same time you utter out a “uh–” he says “i have to go.”

“oh.” you blink. a why brews on top of your tongue, but you temper it, reminding yourself that you’re not close to gojo like that. needless to say, you feel a little embarrassed as you watch him jog out of the kitchen with a little wave to you. you want to overanalyze gojo’s last look to you, the one that looked a bit like disappointment and yearning, but you shake it off, staring at the 16.9 oz plastic water bottle in your hand that you forgot about.

taking a sip, you cringe as you become more aware of your surroundings and the state you’re left in because of gojo. that your panties are a bit more sticky—you reach under your skirt to adjust them so they don’t stick to your crotch so much—and you’re hot all over. 

then reality comes crashing back. what the hell did you and gojo just do right now?

you groan out loud, banging your head against the fridge, but as you reel back, in your peripheral you see  someone there. your head shoots to see the guy who’s now looking at you with a weird expression as he undeniably waits for whatever freaking out you were doing to gain access to the fridge. 

“sorry,” you blurt out, and gather yourself to beeline for the exit. god, you needed to find utahime.

…

the soft hum of a tv in the corner of satoru’s apartment provided the only sound, save for the faint rustle of suguru flipping through a textbook. the remnants of takeout—boxes of half-eaten pad thai and a pile of discarded chopsticks—littered the coffee table between them. satoru leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he hadn’t thought to ask yet. he held a small foam ball, tossing it up and catching it over and over. his mind, however, wasn’t focused on the ball but on you.

it was starting to feel like an obsession. he’d always been able to compartmentalize things—his studies, his friends, his other responsibilities. but you? you’d broken through the usual barriers in his head, wedging yourself firmly into every free thought he had.

“do you think she likes me?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

suguru glanced up from his book, his expression unreadable. “who, starbucks girl?”

satoru scoffed. “she’s not starbucks girl. she’s…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers against his knee. your name lingered on his tongue, oddly weighty in a way that felt almost unfamiliar.

suguru smirked. “oh, she’s got a name now? progress.”

“shut up.”

but he couldn’t shut his mind off, not when you kept taking up space in it. it wasn’t just that he’d noticed you now—really noticed you, for the first time. it was more than that.

satoru had always known who you were. you weren’t exactly easy to miss. in a program full of ugly guys who didn’t shower and loud personalities, you had carved out your niche by being the cold, unreachable one. the one who didn’t bother with group projects unless she had to, who barely engaged in conversations beyond what was strictly necessary. other guys in the program talked about you, of course. they always did.

“frigid,” they called you. “too serious. probably thinks she’s better than us.”

they weren’t entirely wrong. you were better than most of them, but not for the reasons they assumed. satoru had read your work—papers that brimmed with insights that most of their half-baked theories could only dream of. he could tell you put in the effort in your classes and research, while all the guys left shit-talking had to rely on their grad student mentors to be able to write a legible paper. for fucks sake, he doesn’t even thing anyone could code in qiskit or cirq like you could; he had skimmed your notes once, left them behind after a lecture, and found them meticulous and sharp before he turned them into the professor to return to you.

and yet, despite the brilliance you carried with you, you had never given him a second glance.

that day at starbucks, though.

satoru rolled his head to the side, gaze drifting toward the window. he hadn’t expected to see anyone at five in the morning, let alone you. he’d been desperate for answers then—he had spent his night staring at his hands, which had seemed to keep ejecting spider-like webs after he’d been horribly sick. he knew he shouldn’t have gone fooling around in new york’s subway tunnels at 3am with suguru and shoko, but after a seemingly-harmless spider had bit him, he had been reeling from the discovery of his newfound powers and grappling with the weight of what they meant ever since. 

and there you were, unlocking the starbucks, bleary-eyed but no less composed.

you’d handed him his coffee, not interested in him the entire time, and he remembered blurting something out—something ridiculous about fate or responsibility, his usual bravado faltering in the quiet of the moment. he had been spiraling, unsure of who he was anymore, and you’d said something.

what was it again?

“it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”

the words had stayed with him, carved deep into the corners of his mind. you didn’t know it, but they had pulled him back from the edge that day. since then, he’d started noticing you in ways he hadn’t before.

the way you brushed your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. the furrow of your brow when you argued as respectfully as you could with a professor (gojo knew you were holding back, though, and the thought always made him smile to himself because if he wasn’t an idgafer he would be incensed like you at the idiotic teacher). the smile—rare, fleeting, but utterly disarming—that occasionally lit up your face when you talked to utahime or that guy you were too friendly around, nanami.

“you’re doing that thing again,” suguru said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“what thing?” satoru asked, sitting up straighter.

“brooding. you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“no.”

suguru arched an eyebrow. “you’re a terrible liar.”

satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine. maybe i am. but it’s complicated.”

“how is it complicated?”

“she doesn’t like me,” satoru said, shrugging. “at least, not as me. she likes spider-man.”

suguru blinked, clearly unimpressed. “you’re being stupid bro.”

“i’m not being stupid,” satoru argued. “she thinks spider-man’s this amazing, selfless hero. she doesn’t know i’m just some guy who can’t even figure out how to flirt with her without making an ass of himself.”

suguru leaned back in his chair, regarding satoru with an almost pitying look. “so let me get this straight. you’re worried that she only likes spider-man, even though spider-man is you. like it’s some kind of split personality thing?”

“well, when you put it like that—”

“it sounds dumb,” suguru finished. “because it is dumb.”

satoru glared at him, but suguru only shrugged.  but how could he not think about you? even now, the memory of your voice—calm, steady, and unexpectedly warm—echoed in his head. you had this way of looking at him, like you were peeling back layers he didn’t even know he had. and that smile... he groaned inwardly. he wasn’t supposed to be so drawn to you, wasn’t supposed to imagine what it’d feel like to have you smile at him like that all the time.

“look,” suguru continued, “if you like her, shoot your shot. you’re already overthinking this, and you haven’t even done anything yet. what’s the worst that could happen? she says no?”

“or she laughs in my face,” satoru muttered.

“which would be deserved, honestly,” suguru said, smirking. “but seriously, you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.”

satoru didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the takeout boxes on the table. he wanted to believe suguru was right, but there was a small, stubborn part of him that wasn’t so sure.

because it wasn’t just about rejection, or even whether you liked him as satoru or spider-man. it was about what came after. if he let you in and something happened to you—if his double life brought danger to your doorstep—he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.

but then there was suguru’s voice in his head, steady and persistent: you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.

…

amidst a week of endless projects upon projects and other miscellaneous assignments from your research group partners (since the grad students loved to pile their work on top of you, the helpless undergrad), you find yourself nursing a hot chocolate while on top of your dormitory building’s roof. 

you find sanctuary, coming on here for time to yourself whenever you find yourself stuck in a busy week. quiet, solitary, with a view of the city lights flickering like scattered fireflies. you hugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you stepped onto the roof, your laptop tucked under one arm, a mug of tea precariously balanced in the other hand. the air was crisp, biting just enough to sting your cheeks.

setting your mug down on the ledge, you perched beside it, pulling up your knees and balancing the laptop precariously as you typed. the words on the screen blurred after a while, blending into the chaos in your mind. frustrated, you closed it with a snap and leaned your head back to gaze at the stars.

“rough night?”

you startled, spinning your head around so fast your tea nearly toppled. but you can’t find anyone, just the sound of soft footsteps landing somewhere not visible to you. 

“you scared the hell out of me,” you sighed, clutching your chest.

“sorry,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound all that apologetic. “didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“then maybe don’t sneak up on people like that,” you muttered, still trying to calm your racing heart.

he chuckled, and the sound was warmer than you’d expected. “noted. so, what’s got you out here at three in the morning? don’t tell me you’re pulling an all-nighter.”

you sighed, the initial shock fading into a dull thrum of shyness. “it’s not an all-nighter if the night isn’t over yet.” then, you squint at a random spot, pretending it’s him. “besides, why are you here? shouldn’t you be out stopping robberies or saving cats from trees?”

“done and done,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ledge. “now i’m just enjoying the view.”

you turned your gaze back to the skyline, hoping the darkness hid the faint heat creeping up your neck. “so, what’s a guy like you doing on a random rooftop at three in the morning?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he countered.

you hesitated. for some reason, admitting the truth to him felt easier than admitting it to anyone else. “just…needed a break.”

“from?”

“everything,” you said, exhaling slowly. “classes. expectations. people.” you paused, then added with a faint smile, “not you, though. you’re an exception.”

“oh?” his voice lightened, carrying a hint of playful intrigue. “should i feel honored?”

“maybe,” you said. “it’s not every day you get to meet a real hero.” then, “okay, but why do you always hide in the dark?”

his voice is smug, meant to be playful. “it adds to the mystique?”

you pout. “what if i call the police?”

“it’s not like the cops can catch me anyways, baby. their shitty coffee and donut filled asses aren’t enough to keep up with me.”

you really try not to flush when he calls you that pet name. “is success getting to you?”

“what success? most i hear is everyone debating whether or not i should be experimented on.”

“really?” you teased. “that’s not what i saw on my for you page last time. there are girls out there who want you to sign their tits after you rescued that baby.”

then, you hear the soft thud of nimble feet dropping onto the ceiling and turn your head to see him in all his glory. he has a muscular figure highlighted in his white suit, blue and black lines traveling their way across his body. casually, he stretches and then drops down to the floor, sitting cross legged from across from you as if joining you in a regular gossip sesh. he puts his elbow on his knee and rests his head on his hand. “are you one of those girls?”

you laugh sheepishly, turning away as heat creeps up your face again and your heart hammers, because you can’t exactly tell him that, yes you’re absolutely enamored with him after he saved you that day and yes, you do indeed want him to sign your tits.

“you should do that more,” he said.

“what?” you look back at him, wide eyed in confusion. 

“laugh.”

the way he said it, low and almost reverent, made your cheeks heat. you busy yourself with toying with your cardigan, scooting yourself away from the edge and closer to him. “and you should stop being such a flirt,” you said, though there was no bite in your voice.

“can’t help it,” he said, leaning closer. “it’s kind of my thing.”

“is that right?”

“mm-hmm.” he paused, then added, “you know, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“take my mask off.”

the words hit you like a gut punch, dissolving the playfulness that had filled the air seconds ago. you blinked up at him, searching his face—or at least what you could see of it—for any sign that this was some elaborate joke. but there was no hint of humor, no smirk tugging at his lips. he meant it.

your fingers hovered at your sides, hesitant. “are you sure?” the question came out soft, barely audible, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet night.

“never been more sure of anything,” he murmured, voice low and steady.

you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. slowly, almost against your better judgment, you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask. the fabric felt smooth, warm under your touch, but your nerves were anything but.

with a deep breath, you peeled it back. bit by bit, his face came into view—a shock of white hair, impossibly sharp features, and finally, those eyes. those unmistakable, infuriatingly familiar blue eyes. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.

“gojo?”

the name fell from your lips before you could stop it, unsteady and disbelieving. your mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle that had just landed in front of you.

he grinned—that grin, the one that always made you want to slap it off his face and yet somehow managed to disarm you every single time. “hey.”

“hey?” your voice cracked as you took a step back. “that’s all you have to say? hey?”

“would you prefer, ‘surprise’?” he quipped, his grin widening as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

you laughed, the sound a little hysterical but real, like you couldn’t contain the storm of emotions rushing through you. “surprised? you’ve been… you’ve been spider-man this whole time?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, like they didn’t belong in the same sentence as gojo satoru—the one you’d argued with in class, the one who had no problem making you want to tear your hair out. and yet here he was, standing in front of you, the last person you ever would have suspected to be the city’s most infamous masked hero.

gojo gave you that crooked grin, the same one he wore when he thought he had won—when he thought he had it all figured out. “i know. it’s a lot to take in.”

you stared at him, trying to make sense of it, but no amount of logic could bridge the gap between the gojo you knew—the guy who drove you up the wall in class and always had a cocky comeback—and the masked hero who had saved you and the one you had a crush on.

you didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or cry. 

you take a shaky breath in, still trying to process everything. “you... you saved me, gojo. you’ve been right there, all these times, and i had no idea it was you.”

“guess i’m just that good at keeping secrets,” he said, his tone playful, but there was something more there, something softer, that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. his eyes held a flicker of something—maybe vulnerability, maybe uncertainty.

the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between you, and for a long second, you didn’t know what to say. this revelation was like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, and you were left staring into an abyss that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

finally, you shook your head, letting out a short breath. “this is insane.”

he didn’t seem bothered by your reaction, though his eyes darkened just slightly, the smirk still there, but with something a little more honest creeping into his expression. “yeah. but you’re handling it better than i thought. kinda thought you would faint, or something.”

the world had shifted, but somehow, with gojo now sitting in front of you like this, with the mask off and the man behind the myth revealed, it felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. even if they didn’t make perfect sense yet.

and yet, something about his presence—his undeniable realness—felt oddly grounding. he wasn’t the invincible spider-man anymore. he was just gojo. the gojo who had somehow become more than just your academic rival, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than that.

something in gojo’s facial expression shifted to something a bit more hesitant, a little nervous as he stands and extend his arm out to you. softly, he asks, “do you trust me?”

“yes.” you took his hand, standing up as he flashes you a charming, yet mischievous grin, one so shit eating that you regret saying that. “why?”

“i’m taking you for a ride. consider it an apology for freaking you out earlier.”

you hesitated, looking between his outstretched hand and the city skyline just beyond your college campus. “i don’t think this is a good idea—”

“you trust me, don’t you?”

and somehow, against all logic, you realized that you did.

“fine,” you said, stepping closer to him to cling onto him. 

he pulls you closer, and as he does so, he cranes his neck down to meet your eyes, smiling giddy. “anywhere you wanna go?”

you think for a moment, but know immediately the place where you’d like to visit that’s open at this ungodly hour. “do you know that one shawarma joint—-”

before you can even finish, the wind whips around you as gojo slips his mask back on, pulls you closer to him, and uses his free hand—that is, the one that’s not clinging onto your firmly—to shoot a glistening web, one that you saw when he used it on the man who harassed you in the ally. it clings onto a nearby building, and then you’re off the ground, soaring through the air.

you let out a scream of terror against gojo’s chest, tightening your arms around him. you can feel a laugh rumble in his chest, a boyish chuckle as he peers down at you and shouts, “are you having fun?” 

“gojo,” you whine, burying your head into his chest further. despite your initial fear, exhilaration creeps its way into you as you the city blur, skyline jumping and dipping as gojo effortlessly swung you both around. 

when he finally stopped, landing gracefully on a secluded rooftop, you were breathless—not just from the ride but from the way he was looking at you.

“you good?” he laughed, panting from the exertion and tenderly using his hand to rake his hand through your  hair, which, you note out of embarrassment, must’ve been messed up from the wind passing through it.

“i hate that you made me dizzy, but yea, i’m good,” you mumble, pulling out your phone to open your camera, fixing your hair.

when you’re done, gojo looks at you with the manic buzz you can only have at 3am. “ready to get some shawarma?”

…

the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence only a city at 3am could have. just the two of you, your footsteps echoing against the pavement, the occasional glow of a streetlamp painting your path.

“okay, that shawarma was like, mid at best,” gojo walks alongside you. he’s thrown on a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants over his suit, walking alongside you on the street. your stomachs are full, and you suggested a walk to be able to digest the bigass bowl you both ate.

“nothing tastes better than something you’re eating when you’re supposed to be studying, instead,” you shot back, hiding your little smile as you cross your arms while strolling. the shift between you and gojo was so jarring that you’re still reeling at it, but what is 3am if not for big life changes?

“yea, that’s fair,” he sighs, crossing his hands behind his head as he continues strolling beside you.  “so,” he continues, “now that i’ve officially blown your mind with my secret identity and fed you some incredibly mid shawarma, what’s next? should i fly you to paris, or is that too cliché?”

you roll your eyes, but deep inside, you’re really biting back a grin. “relax, bugboy. maybe first let me recover from being swung like a human pendulum.”

gojo stopped walking, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “you’re still thinking about that, huh? admit it—you loved it.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i screamed into your chest for a solid ten seconds. does that sound like love to you?”

he tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “i dunno. there’s a fine line between terror and thrill. and judging by how tightly you were holding onto me…”

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, but your voice lacked bite.

“and yet, you’re still here.”

his words hung in the air, the playful edge softening into something quieter, more sincere. your steps faltered, and you looked up at him, the absurdity of the night fading into the background as your gaze held his.

“guess i’m curious,” you admitted.

“curious, huh?” he said, taking a step closer. “careful. curiosity killed the cat.”

without thinking, you blurted, “at least i’ve got a fifty-fifty shot, right?” the words barely left your mouth before the regret hit, your inner voice screaming at you for making a lame quantum mechanics joke at a time like this. schrödinger would be proud, you thought bitterly.

but then gojo laughed—not the teasing, obnoxious kind of laugh or the weird look you’d expect, but a genuine, boyish chuckle that reached his eyes. he smiled at you, soft and unguarded, and suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink.

the flickering streetlamp cast a warm, uneven glow over the two of you. in that moment, the sprawling city felt impossibly small, narrowed down to just him and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

gojo reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “you know,” he murmured, his voice low, “i’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”

your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest. “do what?”

“this.”

before you could respond, he closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft, yet electrifying. for a moment, time seemed to stop, the city around you fading into nothing as the warmth of his touch anchored you in the moment.

when he finally pulled back, his grin was back in full force. “so, was that better or worse than shawarma?”

you blinked at him, still trying to find your footing in the aftermath of what just happened. an immediate feeling of bashfulness crept over you because not only did you just kiss spiderman, you just kissed gojo. there are girls who would kill to be in your position, and that makes you flustered as you turn your head away from him so you don’t have to make eye contact. “i hate you,” you mumble half heartedly, cheeks burning.

gojo doesn’t let you off so easily. his thumb brushes gently along your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. his touch is warm, deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“oh my god,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “are you embarrassed? you’re so cute.”

when the warmth of his hand leaves your chin, you open your eyes, shocked as you find out that he’s nowhere to be seen. you call out a tentative, “gojo?” 

somewhere behind you, to the left, comes out a muffled shout. “i’m here!” you whip around, your brows furrowing as you follow the direction of his voice. it’s coming from an alley just off the street, dark and bathed in shadows.

“seriously?” you mutter under your breath, your annoyance half-hearted, making your way toward the sound. you find yourself at the mouth of the alley, the dim glow of a distant lamp barely illuminating his silhouette.

gojo’s perched on the side of the wall like it’s the most natural thing in the world, one leg propped up, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal that damn smirk. “you’re slow,” he teases, his tone light and infuriatingly smug.

“what are you doing?” you ask, crossing your arms.

he gestures toward himself. “you came looking for me, didn’t you?”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “what, did you think i’d just leave you lurking in some alley like a creepy insect?”

“well,” he says, shooting a web to stick on the bottom of some stairs of one of the buildings to hang upside down, “you could’ve left, but i had a feeling you wouldn’t.”

before you could retort, he shoots his web closer to something on top of you, now dangling upside down yet again but his proximity even closer, stealing the air from your lungs. his fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just long enough to make your knees feel unsteady.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “are we doing this again, or are you gonna keep pretending you hate me?”

your heart stutters, but before you can overthink it, you pull his mask down even further to uncover more of his lips, and you join them together—this time, softer, slower, as if savoring the moment. you grab at his chin to pull him closer to you, you both sighing into the kiss, and then smiling giddily each time you pull back, only to come back in.

and just like that, you start to fall into…something with not only the vigilante that’s swinging around new york, but also gojo satoru, your long-time rival.

…

when satoru swings by your dorm next, he doesn’t expect his heart to lurch so much at the view of you so cozy.

it’s undeniable; you and satoru have been dancing around each other. you’re not exactly a hook-up to each other—you two haven’t had sex—but you’re not exactly girlfriend and boyfriend. and it’s not something casual, either. he doesn’t reveal that he’s spiderman just to get into girls’ pants. 

you’ve both developed a sort of rapport, he supposes. it’s been stolen glances during phys401 and late nights spent talking or, occasionally, making out. you’ve even started to nurse his wounds, if he ever shows up with bruises and blood matting his suit. one of the perks of you having a single. 

he’s even fallen asleep overnight, especially on friday nights when he doesn’t have lecture in the morning. some of his things, like some spare equipment and suits, have even found their way into your closet. 

you’re both on a dangerous roller coaster, and satoru is closing his eyes on the fall down. 

but right now, he’s perched outside your window like a creep. you’re sitting on your bed, cross-legged and squinting at something on your laptop, and satoru smiles to himself as he sees your tank top and shorts and just how homey you look. you probably know satoru is coming, but you’re so comfortable around him that it makes his heart ache. he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop.

satoru lightly taps on your window, his knuckle brushing against the glass softly, not wanting to startle you. you glance up, catching sight of him, and there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

you get up, and satoru follows the movement of your bare legs with his eyes as you slide the window open. “you know, most people knock on doors like normal humans,” you say.

“i like to keep things interesting,” he shoots back, climbing in effortlessly. the faint chill from the night clings to him, and his hair is slightly disheveled from the wind.

he glances around your room, catching sight of your scattered notes and the distinct look of frustration etched across your face. “what’s got you looking so miserable?”

“phys401,” you reply with a resigned sigh, flopping back onto your bed. “this problem set is impossible.”

satoru smirks, peeling off his gloves and mask and plopping down beside you. “let me see.”

acquiescing, you hand over your notebook, watching as he scans your work with intent, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to understand the statement to prove. he makes a few thoughtful noises, before grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. “here,” he says after a moment, “you’re overcomplicating this step. instead of doing the tensor product you did, you could just make this zero by taking an inner product, since they’re orthogonal states. the rest will fall into place.”

you squint at his messy, rushed handwriting, and sure enough, the proof seems to come together. “how are you so good at this?” 

“physics prodigy, remember?” he teases, leaning back on his hands as he lays down on your bed.

“thanks for the help,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him a beat too long. he’s kind of dreamy, you think. the moonlight filters across your window, giving his platinum hair a sheen as his cerulean eyes look into yours with kindness. 

his smirk fades, replaced by something softer, something unspoken. “anytime.” he then makes a show of stretching out his limbs, purposely bumping into you with one eye open smugly to observe your reaction, to which you glare at him. he spots your notebook, picks it up, and flips through it. “you know, for someone who complains so much about phys401, you’re not half bad at it,” he teases, scribbling something in the margin of your notes by grabbing a stray pen next to him.  

you roll your eyes, shifting so you’re cross-legged on the bed, facing him. “not all of us are physics prodigies, satoru. some of us actually have to work hard.”  

he chuckles, handing the notebook back to you. “hard work is overrated when you can just charm your way through everything.”  

you snort and joke, “if charm was all it took, i’d have aced the midterm.”  

there’s a beat of silence as you glance down at his notes. he’s corrected a mistake you hadn’t even noticed, and his scrawled proof flows so effortlessly it makes you a little envious. “how do you do that?” you ask, more to yourself than him.  

“do what?”  

“make it look so… easy,” you say, frowning slightly. “everything. physics, life, swinging through the city.”  

satoru leans back on his palms, his smirk softening. “trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks.”  

you glance up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “what do you mean?”  

he shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze flickers away from yours. “i mean, everyone sees the guy with the jokes and the perfect test scores, but no one sees the late nights or the bruises.” he gestures vaguely to his chest, where you know the bruises from his spider-man escapades hide. “guess i’m just good at pretending.”  

you sit with his words, the weight of them settling between you. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say softly.  

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask—the real one—drops. “i know,” he says, just as softly.  

the air between you feels heavier, like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, the faint smell of the night clinging to him, the way his knee brushes against yours.  

“thanks,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “for letting me be here. for…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up.  

your breath catches. “satoru…”  

“yeah?” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice lower now.  

“i…” you trail off, not even sure what you were going to say.  

he leans closer, and it feels like everything around you stills. his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “can i?” he asks, his voice barely audible.  

you nod, and then his lips are on yours.  

the kiss starts tentative, almost shy, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building for weeks—months, maybe—finally snaps, leaving nothing but heat and want in its wake.  

his weight presses you back into the bed, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pins you to the bed, now on top of you. his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and as his thumb traces shapes into your circle and closer to more sensitive areas, a sigh escapes you.  

that’s when he freezes.  

he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide and filled with something like fear. “we can’t,” he says, his voice hoarse.  

your heart drops into your chest.

“why not?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.  

“because,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair and he’s heaving. “because i’m spider-man, and you—” he breaks off, looking anywhere but at you. “you deserve better than this. better than me.”  

you sit up, pulling your shirt back into place and looking at him, hurt. “that’s not your call to make, satoru.”  

“i’m trying to protect you!” he says, his voice rising in agitation. he sits back onto his heels, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at the ceiling, as if in pain.

you can’t believe him. his self-righteousness irritates you to no end, especially after you’ve bared your soul, and now your body to him, something you considered intimate. you feel conflicted—whatever you had, it didn’t have a label. but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want that to be true. badly.

“and who asked you to?” you snap back. “i’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving.”  

“i know that,” he says, his tone softening. “but if something happened to you because of me…” he shakes his head. “i couldn’t live with that.”  

the anger bubbling in your chest boils over, and you snap. “so what? you’re just going to walk away? after everything?”  

he stands, his expression pained. “i’m sorry,” he says, heading for the window.  

“don’t you dare apologize,” you say, your voice trembling as you stand by the foot of your bed, hating how your eyes brim with tears. “if you leave, don’t bother coming back.”  

he pauses, his hand on the window frame, before glancing back at you. “i’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, before slipping out into the night.  

the window clicks shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence, the ache in your chest threatening to swallow you whole. 

…

the whir of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of background music fill the mostly empty starbucks, the occasional customer wandering in like clockwork. it’s a quiet shift, the kind you’d usually relish—except today, the quiet only makes the knot in your chest tighten.

you’re stationed behind the counter, staring blankly at the milk steamer as it hisses, lost in your thoughts. that is, until utahime’s voice breaks through.

“alright, spill,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you.

you glance at her, eyebrows raised. “spill what?”

utahime rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “oh, please. you look like someone stole your favorite pen and broke it in half. what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you lie, turning back to the steamer. “i’m fine.”

utahime’s skeptical gaze bores into you. “you’re a terrible liar. nanami, back me up.”

from his spot at a nearby table, nanami looks up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto you. “it’s boy trouble,” he says flatly, like he’s solving an equation.

your head snaps toward him, a glare already forming. “excuse me?”

“it’s obvious,” he says, setting his book down and regarding you with his usual piercing gaze. “you’re distracted, you look upset—it’s boy trouble.”

utahime perks up, leaning closer. “wait, is he right? is this about a guy?”

you let out a groan, leaning your elbows on the counter. “can you two not gang up on me right now?”

“so it is a guy,” utahime says, her tone turning smug.

“i didn’t say that,” you retort, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection. “you might as well just tell us. it’s not like we’re going to let it go.”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “fine. it’s… someone i liked. someone i thought liked me too. but he freaked out and said it was too…dangerous to keep going.”

utahime frowns, her curiosity replaced by concern while kento snorts. “dangerous? what does that even mean?”

“that’s what i’d like to know,” you say bitterly, the frustration bubbling up as you speak. “he acts like he cares, but the second things get serious, he bolts. like i’m some fragile thing that can’t handle it.”

nanami leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “he might not be scared of you. he could be scared of what it means for him. of responsibility and commitment. some people run when they feel too much.”

utahime nods, her hand resting gently on your arm. “whatever his problem is, it’s not fair to you. if he can’t get it together, that’s on him, not you.”

you glance between them, the weight of their words settling in your chest. “i know that,” you say quietly. “it just… sucks.”

“of course it does,” utahime says, her voice soft but firm. “but you’re not the problem here. don’t let him make you think you are.”

nanami picks up his book again but pauses before opening it. “and don’t let him live rent-free in your head. if he can’t see what he’s giving up, that’s his loss.”

their support feels grounding, like a steady hand in the middle of a storm. you manage a small smile, nodding. “thanks, guys.”

“anytime,” utahime says, flashing you a reassuring grin. nanami simply nods, returning to his book but keeping an eye on you like always. for the first time all week since gojo left your room, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.

…

the knock at your window is faint, almost timid, but it jolts you out of your daze. you sit up in bed, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the window. it’s late—so late it’s early—and for a moment, you think you imagined it. you hate to admit it, but because of your boy troubles you haven’t been able to sleep all week. you’re also no stranger to imagining ants crawling up your body or phantom noises, so you adjust in your bed, trying to go back to sleep.

then it comes again, a little louder this time.

you throw off the blanket and pad over, the chill of the floor biting at your bare feet. when you pull the curtain aside, your breath catches.

satoru.

he’s crouched outside, his suit torn in places and soaked with blood. his head lolls slightly, like he’s barely holding himself up, and when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, it’s tired and pleading.

you don’t think—there’s no time for that. you unlatch the window and shove it open, reaching out to help him inside. “satoru, oh my god,” you breathe, your voice shaking.

“hey,” he mutters, his grin weak but still so unmistakably him. “sorry for the mess.”

“shut up,” you snap, guiding him onto your bed and setting him down with gentle hands, ones that contrast your tone with him. “what the hell happened?”

“nothing i couldn’t handle,” he says, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter and flashes you a sheepish smile. “you should see the other guy.”

“you’re bleeding everywhere, satoru. you clearly didn’t handle it.” you grab your first aid kit from under the bed and yank it open, your hands trembling.

“i’ve had worse,” he murmurs, but his bravado is thin, cracking at the edges.

“stop talking,” you say, your voice trembling and cracking. “just—just stop.”

for once, you thank the gods that he listens.

you work quickly, cutting away the shredded fabric of his suit and cleaning the worst of the wounds. it’s not pretty—his torso is littered with bruises and gashes, the kind that make your stomach turn—but you keep your focus.

when you press a disinfectant-soaked pad to a particularly deep cut, he hisses, his hand flying to grab your wrist.

“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him with a tender look in your eyes. his expression matches yours, and your faces are so close to each other that you can’t bear it anymore, going back to your work.

his fingers loosen but don’t let go, his grip warm and grounding. “you’re good at this,” he says softly, his voice rough.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. “you’ve given me plenty of practice.”

the silence stretches as you finish bandaging him up. when you’re done, you sit back, your hands still trembling as you place them in your lap. “you’re an idiot,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

he laughs, soft and hoarse. “yeah. i get that a lot from this girl i know.”

you look up at him, and the weight of everything—his injuries, his secret, the distance he tried to put between you—crashes over you. “you can’t keep doing this, satoru. you can’t keep pushing me away just to show up like this.”

his smile fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know, but…”

“but what?” you demand, your voice cracking. “you’re spider-man? you think that’s an excuse to keep shutting me out?”

“it’s not an excuse,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair, matted with even more blood. his or someone else’s, you’re not sure. “it’s a reason. i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“you think i’m not already hurting?” you snap, the anger bubbling to the surface yet again. “you think it doesn’t kill me to see you like this and know i can’t do anything to stop it?”

his eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost and unsure. it is then that it hits you that he’s just twenty. a college student, not someone who’s wanted by the cia or someone who’s battled terrorists. for fucks sake, he can’t even legally drink. 

and your heart can’t help but melt as he says, “i just… i don’t want to lose you.”

“then stop trying to,” you say, your voice softer now. “stop pretending like you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length. let me in, satoru.”

he stares at you, his breath hitching like he’s holding back a thousand words. then, in a rush, he closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead to yours.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.”

you exhale shakily, your hands finding their way to his wrists. “just stop being an idiot, okay? stop trying to do this alone.”

he nods, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “i promise,” he says, and for the first time, you believe him.

…

a cramp gripping satoru’s entire leg is what wakes him up. 

he winces in memory of the injury; one of those stupid terrorists had too good of an aim, grazing his leg while he was mid-air. it hurts like a bitch now, and he moves to lay on his back, until something stops him. roses.

he looks, bleary eyed, to you. the floral scent coming from you, making him dizzy. his body cocooning yours. 

you both unconsciously moved in your sleep so that you were spooning, your fragrant hair, soft from shampooing, tickling his throat with your ass in his crotch.

nestled right against his morning wood.

good fucking lord, he groans to himself, then starts to panic because if you wake up and realize he had a raging hard-on while you were sleeping, you would definitely think he was a creep. he’s already on thin fucking ice. so naturally, he starts to recite the star spangled banner while trying to will his boner away.

oh, say can you see—

to no avail, because you huff softly in your sleep, soft and warm body unconsciously leaning back to grind your ass against his lap, turning his dick to steel.

“oh, fuck,” he curses out loud, using his hand to cover the lower half of his face and clench his eyes shut. you feel so sweet, innocently adjusting while he can’t even control his lust for you.

but once the grind seems to continue for a bit too long, more than what can be chalked up as adjusting in your sleep, he peers down at you. you’re awake. 

and because satoru’s selfish, his hands creep up your tank top, settling on your bare stomach, where he knew you were ticklish. as a result, you wiggle, and he uses this opportunity to pull you even closer to him, right up against him. 

“baby,” he says, making his voice all deep and sighs on purpose, just to be unfair to you. “is this okay?”

you whine, and he settles his face in your hair, the strands of it tickling his skin as he inhales in the scent of you. “i thought it was a dream.”

he smiles into your hair. you make him feel like sunshine incarnate, and the rush he’s getting right now is akin to the one he gets jumping off the empire state building. “no, this is very real.”

“hm,” and you continue to drag your ass into him, murmuring in a soft voice that makes him want to take you right there and then, “it still feels like a dream. like you’re not real, right now.”

oh, what he would do to make you say his name in that same voice; he wants to whisper all the things he wants to do to you right now. “i know, baby. you feel like a dream.” his hands continue to slide up and up your torso, groaning at your sharp intake as he gently fondles the softness of your breasts. 

you overwhelm his senses, teasing him, and when you let out a whine of his name, satoru snaps.

“i’m going to make you feel good right now. tell me if it’s a fucking dream,” he grits out, ignoring whatever cramps that were screaming at him to get on top of you. 

you gasp out a “satoru,” wriggling in his grasp, and he can’t take it anymore. he brings up one of his hands. shoots a web that lands right on your left hand. then your right hand.

satoru just tied you up using his webs.

you look at him in whatever version of shock you can muster in your tired state. “satoru, what the—” but you’re muffled, because he’s kissing you, hard, roving his hands up and down your body and grabbing whatever he can as if he’s devouring you while making out with you.

“do you know,” and his eyes flash dangerously while looking down at yours, “how you’ve teased me with these shorts?” his hands trails down to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing, pulling it to make it snap against your skin. you jump, looking at satoru desperately, who’s left you bare at his mercy, subject to his super human strength as he grabs your shorts with both his hands again. “every fucking time i’ve sneaked up in to your room, it’s been so hard to not fuck you senseless in these flimsy things. it’s only fair you pay the price, right baby?”

it’s not like you have anything to answer him with, having lost all brain cells being fucked out like this. he pulls them down, and if he had laser vision, he would have stared through your panties long ago, eyes fixated on the crotch that was nearly translucent with the amount of slick going through it. burying his face right in between your thighs, he noses at your cunt before groaning. then, he uses his teeth to grab onto the middle and pull. until your pussy is bare to him.

“oh, fuck you’re so pretty,” he curses, lapping at your sweetness. his tongue roves up and down your folds, and if your hands could, they would be pulling at his hair solely because you were so sensitive. but you were trapped, thighs gripped in his strong hands and your arms trapped by his ultra-strong webs. “my good girl.”

then, you feel pressure at your opening. “sato—” you squeal but are immediately interrupted by your own moan as he curls his long, thick fingers, eyes observing your every movement as you squirm, electric shocks running up and down your body as he hits your spot dead-on.

and he notices, because the motherfucker chuckles. “oh, so that’s the spot, huh?” he purrs, visibly pleased as he memorizes it and abuses it, hitting it with every stroke. you barely notice him add one finger, add two fingers as he starts to suck on your clit. overwhelmed with pleasure, you’re only brought back to reality when he rips all contact away from you.

“what—” you mumble mindlessly, until you see what he’s doing. he pulls his sweatpants down. and he’s not wearing boxers, so you drool when his cock springs out, leaking copiously and hard. without taking his eyes off you, he pumps it to its fullest length, and you’re just staring in awe at its sheer length.

“what��re you looking at, baby?” he teases, using his hand to wiggle his cock in front of your face to mock you. “want it so bad, isn’t that right?”

you glare at him half-heartedly, but whine regardless. “just put it in, gojo.”

“oh,” and he flashes you a smile that makes a big danger sign in red flash across your mind. “it’s gojo, now is it?”

 “satoru,” there are tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, the ones that make satoru even more aroused at your want, “please. i need it.”

a boyish grin and a forehead kiss that has you reeling at his duality. “anything for my woman in stem.” with that, he pushes in, both of your eyes rolling back as his cock is engulfed by your gummy walls. soon after, he starts thrusting, desperation fueling both of you as you cross your legs behind gojo’s back, the deeper angle making his thighs shake while fucking into you. 

he grabs your face, gives you a tender kiss. “fuck, i love this pussy. so sweet for me.” 

you give him a wanton moan in return as he continues to thrust deep, tender strokes into you. “satoru, ‘m not gonna last long.” with the amount of foreplay he’s done alongside how sensitive you are, you’re steadily reaching your orgasm already, and with the way satoru’s now tightly gripping the sheets beside you while thrusting inside you, he is too.

wet squelching noises echoes across the room, and you know the neighbors can hear the obscene plap! plap! plap! coming from skin meeting skin, your hips against his. he buries his face into your neck, panting at your ear until he uses his hand to wrench your face towards his.

“i love you,” he groans, forcing your eyes to meet his. “i love you forever and will do so. so you can’t break my heart,” and he’s desperately thrusting again, “and you can’t leave me. please.”

at his confession, you break, back arching as you also squeal out a iloveyou while gasping loudly, hips rolling to rise against his as he fucks you through your orgasm. quickly, his thrusts veer into overstimulation and you whine. “toru.” he takes one look at your state—face impossibly flushed, hands tied, and pussy absolutely engulfing his cock, and his orgasm hits him like a truck, making him gasp and bend and break as he goes to heaven and back with the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy clench around him so beautifully. his cum enters you in hot spurts, making you exhale sharply at the feeling as he comes down from his orgasm, collapsing next to you.

for a few minutes, heavy breathing fills the room, both of you catching your breaths. until satoru breaks the silence. “so, what’s it like to fuck a superhero?”

you take one look at him—all smug and propped up on his elbow—and spidey sense be damned as you try grab a pillow. key word is try because you’re then wrenched back with a reminder that you’re still bound. “satoru,” and you give him a sickly sweet smile, the one that he knows means he’s in trouble, “when are these going to dissolve?”

and satoru pretends to be deep in thought, but you can see him trying to inch off the bed slowly, as if to escape your wrath after his answer. “uhm…maybe five hours?”

if it weren’t for the damn spidey sense that he had, he wouldn’t have been able to escape the swing of your legs as you looked at him murderously. “satoru gojo you will unhand me from these webs this instant—-“

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, shit eating grin in his face. “you look kinda sexy in bed like this. mad at me.” but when your eyes flash with anger, he hiccups nervously, telltale of the fact he won’t mess with you.

“i hate you,” you groan out, pouting like a petulant child while you glare at the ceiling.

 satoru comes close to you to bend at his waist and give you a forehead kiss. “no, you don’t.” 

you give him a pointed glare, telling him not to be testy. “clean me up. now.”

at your expression, his eyes widen in fear and he salutes. “anything for you, ma’am.”

at his retreating form, you giggle and sigh to yourself. you never would’ve known that spider-man would be the one fetching a clean up rag for you after fucking the shit out of you, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

when satoru comes back, he cleans you up, tenderly, as if he is afraid that you will break. you’re a little drowsy when he returns to you, but he doesn’t dare try to wake you up when he hears little breaths from your nose indicating you’ve fallen asleep. after he finishes his job, he admires your features.

satoru lingers for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. the weight of his responsibilities presses on him, as it always does, but tonight, it feels heavier—like a tether pulling him between the life he’s chosen and the life he craves.

you, so peaceful in sleep, represent something fragile, something precious. and that terrifies him. because what if he fails? what if the cost of being spider-man is losing the one thing that feels real?

still, he knows he can’t walk away—not from this city, not from you. with a deep breath, he leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, a silent promise lingering in his chest.

“i’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs, barely audible. “no matter what.”

instead of leaving, satoru settles down beside you, careful not to disturb your rest. the city can wait, just for a little while. for now, he wraps an arm around you, grounding himself in the warmth of your presence. as your breathing evens out against him, he lets his own eyes drift shut, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting. today, he chooses to stay.

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist | spiderman!gojo masterlist

a/n ok if you're ever curious what being fucked in the ass with a wooden dildo no lube is like, just try to write this fic or any longfic. it's 4am, this a/n is short and unintelligble just like most of this fic but it's been a journey, im very sentimental because of this fic and i hope you guys like it. ok im going to pass out so pls ignore all typos xoxo but please flood my inbox im excited to see yalls reactions when i wake up

plspls pls comment and reblog!!!

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits @ramonathinks

@creamflix

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.